Seishinkan Kyudojo Principles of Training

Kyudo must be a balance between "Sha" (shooting) and "Rei" (courtesy, mutual respect and propriety).

For kyudo practice to lead you on the true path, it must be properly balanced between Sha and Rei. Although shooting technique is vitally important, if you concentrate only on technique, you will, without knowing it, become greedy, lose your composure of mind, and shoot hurriedly and without proper attention to all of the necessary elements. Your shooting will become ugly and impure as you bend all of your will towards the external target. On the other hand, if you concentrate on formal ritual and ceremony to the exclusion of technique, your shooting will degenerate into an empty dance, pretty to look at but robbed of all of its vitality and energy.

Rei is the generic term for the norms of living that are needed to maintain the order of society. It is said that Rei begins when a person learns to curb the desire for instant gratification. In human society, this drive for the instant gratification of selfish desires, regardless of how other people are affected, is the root of conflict. Therefore, all societies have developed certain codes of conduct that allow people to interact peacefully and harmoniously. In its broadest sense, Rei can thus be taken to mean common courtesy and moral and sincere behavior. While this basic concept holds true in all human societies, Japanese tradition and social convention require that these concepts be displayed in certain ways of behaving. Rei thus includes such things as paying proper respect; showing gratitude, mutual consideration, compromise, and forbearance; observing the proper forms of etiquette, propriety, and decorum; and even, in a sense, the social graces. Simply put, the most important thing in Rei is to be sincere and courteous. Without this, Rei is robbed of its inner meaning and becomes a pointless and pompous exercise in empty formality and posturing. In kyudo, the concept of Rei is given tangible shape through the ceremonial forms within which the shooting is performed. In this way, kyudo manners are the formalized expression of the ideal way in which people should behave towards each other as well as the vehicle through which to teach people that ideal behavior.

In discussing the balance in kyudo between Sha and Rei, I must refer back to the discussion of Sanmi Ittai. The unity of kyudo expressed in Sanmi Ittai lies in the balance of physical technique with mind and spirit. Through the perfect expression of the ideal shot, kyudo attempts to give physical form to the concept of the harmonious unity between humans and nature and between person and person. Sanmi Ittai is thus the concrete expression of the kyudo ideal of harmonious beauty, where everything is in balance. Without the spiritual calmness that comes from being in harmony with yourself and others, your shooting will never be balanced.

Therefore, practicing kyudo does not mean just practicing shooting technique alone. It means striving to achieve balance. When the ideal inner balance is achieved, both the formal ceremony and the shooting form of kyudo become beautiful as opposed to just pretty because they come to life and so become the natural outer expression of inner harmony. Since it is an expression of natural principles, harmony is naturally beautiful. Since the shooting is in harmony with natural principles, the arrow naturally pierces the target. It is this dynamic balance between form and function that makes kyudo truly beautiful and saves it from being just an exercise in aesthetics. The practice of Rei is a vital part of teaching you how to achieve this balance.

Shooting must be conducted with proper attention to Rei for a number of reasons. For you as an individual, practicing the formal shooting ritual prevents you from hurrying and forces you to concentrate on settling your mind and maintaining the proper posture and bearing. This naturally calms your mind and allows you to truly concentrate on your shooting. When you are shooting as part of a group, the insistence on Rei requires that you consider the other people with whom you are shooting, thereby causing you to develop proper consideration for others. Finally, the proper Rei of kyudo is defined by tradition, and so cannot be ignored. Since the shooting is a Way for training the body, mind, and spirit, it must be treated with the respect such an undertaking deserves. Because of this, Rei also includes the idea of gratitude, both to the shooting itself as well as your fellow archers, since through participating in shooting, you are given the opportunity to train yourself. Thanks should be given for that. Therefore, you must bow before you shoot, expressing the feeling of "please give me the chance to train myself", and bow after you shoot, expressing the feeling of "thank you for training me".

This does not necessarily mean, however, that every shot must be done with all of the formal ceremony of a sharei. There is a time and a place for formal ceremony and a time and place for a somewhat more relaxed approach. The degree of formality and ritual to be used in any situation depends on the circumstances. However, you must always shoot with an attitude of respect towards the shooting that allows you to understand and express the proper flow of the shooting. The diligent practice of Rei, expressed through formal ceremonial ritual, is one method of training your mind to understand this. It is, therefore, no less important than technique. At the same time, it is not more important than technique.

Growth in kyudo has a natural progression. Instruction and practice must be in accord with this natural progression.

Growth in kyudo, as in anything, follows a natural progression from beginning to intermediate to advanced. While some may progress faster than others, the order of this process cannot be changed and everyone will inevitably follow it regardless of how much they may want to quickly achieve success. In kyudo this is expressed in the phrase "Shin Gyo So.

Shin Gyo So can be defined as follows:

• Shin means following the truth. It means that the fundamentals of shooting should be diligently and scrupulously followed.
• Gyo means carrying out the truth. It means that the shooting should obey true principles.
• So means form as nature. It means that the shooting should be natural and in harmony with all things.

This refers to a natural evolution where Shin, Gyo, and So follow seamlessly upon each other when the time is ripe.*

Shin refers to the beginner. In the beginning, you copy the forms and movements with little or no understanding of their application, significance or meaning. Everything is a mass of incomprehensible details, and the slightest distraction or unexpected event will throw you into confusion. In this stage, you must practice very diligently and carefully, consciously drilling yourself so that you learn to do everything exactly according to the correct fundamentals.

Then, as you become more familiar with the shooting over time, your movements will gradually become more and more confident and assured. Your breathing will become ordered and calm, your movements will take on vigor and decisiveness, and your shooting will become smooth and dynamic. At some point along this continuum, you pass naturally from Shin into Gyo, where you are now really training. You have assimilated the correct shooting fundamentals and are now working on refining them and making the shooting part of yourself.

Finally, as the years pass and you train more and more diligently, at some point the shooting will become second nature and you and the shooting will finally become integrated into a harmonious whole. You have passed naturally into So.

I think that there are many ways to look at this progression. Murakami Hanshi speaks of three levels of spirit, roughly analogous to Shin Gyo So, through which the archer advances. First there is "haru ki", or a stretched or taut spirit, then "sumu ki", or a settled spirit, and finally "saeru ki", or a clear spirit.** In his book, Onuma Hanshi speaks of three levels of shooting expertise: "toteki", or mechanical accuracy, "kanteki", or the forceful piercing of the target with the arrow, and "zaiteki", the stage where the shooting is so perfect the arrow, as it were, exists in the target before it is even shot.*** I think that the following rough analogy can be made that expresses the progression of the archer's spirit and technique. I believe that this is a natural progression, and that all archers inevitably pass through it:

Shin = Haru ki = Toteki
Gyo = Sumu ki = Kanteki
So = Saeru ki = Zaiteki

In Shin, you will practice with what Murakami Hanshi calls "haru ki", a stretched or taut spirit. This is the spirit of youth that relies on raw energy, enthusiasm, and drive. It is dynamic, but as unstable as water. To quote Murakami Hanshi: "Haru ki ... can also be called "kihaku", or spiritual intensity. A taut spirit has about it a feeling of youthfulness, brightness, open-heartedness, and excitability. However, ... under the influence of emotion, a taut spirit can exhibit its opposite side and reveal aspects of shrinking, hastiness, slackness, rashness, excessive fixation, or agitation."**** This spirit can be compared to that of a rambunctious puppy. Much as the mood of a puppy can swing wildly between happiness and fear depending on how it is treated by its master, when your shooting is spiritually immature you are always bouncing back and forth between elation and despair based upon external results. Because of this, once you learn the rudiments of shooting, you will, almost inevitably, judge the value of your shooting solely by whether you hit or miss the target. Thus, hitting the target takes on a vital significance and all of your efforts are directed towards discovering those tricks of technique that will allow you to hit the target regularly. Once learned, you will cling to them and reject any changes that you think may hinder your accuracy.

This is the stage that Onuma Hanshi calls "toteki", just hitting the target with the arrow. Toteki shooting can be fairly accurate, but it is limited as well as erratic. If you are having a good day, you can shoot fairly well. However, the smallest variation can throw your shooting off completely, so your accuracy can vary greatly from one day to the next. Since you do not really understand your art, you are often unaware of the changes in your shooting, and even if you are aware, you usually don't understand why the changes have occurred, and so you have no idea how to correct yourself. In addition, since toteki archers don't understand their bows very well, they have a tendency to mistreat them by unwittingly shooting with too much stiffness and unnecessary force. This sort of shooting is not only ugly, it "kills" a bow: it cannot display its full potential and the abuse it suffers can cause it to break.

However, the toteki stage is not necessarily an evil thing in a beginner. Beginners, by definition, don't know anything, and, having no experience of their own and thus no basis for making a judgment, cannot understand the deeper aspects of kyudo. In a way, their attitude is very logical and pure: they can plainly see if the arrow hits the target or misses it and they will naturally use this to judge success or failure. There is nothing strange in this; it goes without saying that, all things being equal, a hit is preferable to a miss. Only a kyudo master of supreme development can shoot so perfectly that he is truly unconcerned about where his arrows fly.

While this may sound like a contradiction, it is not. Of course you must strive to free yourself of the greed and selfish attachments that spoil your shooting, but pretending to be free of these attachments and actually being free of them are two different things.

Some archers feign a lack of interest in whether or not they hit the target, thinking that somehow this puts them on a higher spiritual plane, but this is usually just a pose. Archers like this shun situations that objectively test their true abilities, such as competitions or rank examinations, pretending that these things are not important to them. In reality, though, they avoid these situations because they fear failure: deep down, they value victories in competition and advancement in rank as much as anyone but are afraid that in being tested they may be found wanting. This kind of dishonesty is foolish, counterproductive, and only impedes development. You cannot free yourself of your greed for the target unless you admit to yourself that you have it. The toteki stage is a natural stage, and everyone goes through it to one degree or another. You should also bear in mind that kihaku, or spiritual intensity, drive, and energy, are vital elements in the practice of kyudo. Without drive and determination, you cannot succeed. The issue is how to harness and refine this intensity.

However, if you cannot pass beyond the toteki stage, real, lasting development in kyudo is impossible. Passing through this stage depends on your maturity of character. Eventually, as you gain experience, you must mature to the point where you can clearly see that toteki is a dead end road and that kyudo holds something deeper that you must seek. Until this realization comes, you will always be mired in the toteki stage whether you realize it or not. When the realization comes, however, the change in your attitude is significant, and your practice will become refined, dignified, and intense. Your kihaku becomes inwardly, rather than outwardly, directed. You have learned to sacrifice immediate gratification to the goal of real inner development, since you now see clearly that it is only by developing your spirit that you can progress further. You have passed into Gyo, the stage of real training, where you concentrate on training your mind and spirit, knowing that this is the way to true skill.

Thus, as you train yourself ever more diligently you learn to rise above the petty concerns, such as advancement in rank or victory in tournaments, that trouble the immature archer and at some point, to quote Murakami Hanshi again, "begin to display the aspect of "sumu ki" (a "settled" spirit). When you reach this level, your mind ceases to be restless, the shadow of worldly desires such as fame or gain hides itself, your mind is unconcerned and serene, and, like a mirror, both mind and technique are firm and steady".***** You have achieved the stage of "kanteki" shooting, where your arrows fly straight and true, and consistently pierce the target with decisiveness and power.

The kanteki stage can, perhaps, be considered the pinnacle of achievement in kyujutsu, or bow art. Yet, kyudo strives for something higher. This is the stage of So, where you pass beyond the conscious exercise of technique and are able to shoot perfectly, seemingly without premeditation of any kind. So long as the conscious mind directs the shooting, there is always the possibility of "suki", or weaknesses and unguarded moments, in your mind. These come upon you suddenly and without warning, showing you that your shooting is not yet perfect, that somewhere, deep within your mind, you still harbor doubts and fears. So you continue to strive and at some point you will break through the final barriers and achieve "saeru ki" (a "clear" spirit), where there is no gap between your mind and your shooting. You have achieved Sanmi Ittai, the unification of your mind and spirit, your body, and your art. You, the bow, and the target all exist as a harmonious whole without differentiation or separation. At this point, the shooting is so flawless that it can be said that the arrow exists in the target before it is shot, so certain it is that the shooting will succeed. This is "zaiteki".

Of this spirit, Murakami Hanshi says: "Saeru ki is that spiritual state where sumu ki has been further refined and polished and has ripened into maturity. " This is the realm of what is called the master. The master swordsman Miyamoto Musashi has expressed this serene and clear state of mind in the following poem:

"Kanryu taigetsu Saeru mizu no gotoshi"

"Cold flow, still moon Like clear water"******

In this poem, Musashi speaks of the clarity, or sae, of pure water, evoking the purity of an unblemished mind. If water contains any impurities, it becomes muddy and unclear when it is disturbed as all the debris it contains rises to the surface. This agitated, impure water can be compared to haru ki. As the water becomes calm, the debris settles and the water becomes clear. This is sumu ki. Saeru ki is when all of the debris is gone. When there is nothing left to cloud the water, it will always be clear no matter what happens, because it is just water, with nothing else in it.

This, perhaps, is what Onuma Hanshi is alluding to when he says that when the shooting is perfect "nothing comes between the thought and the action and nothing is left over."******* Perfect shooting contains nothing extra, either good or bad, to disturb its purity: it is just what it is, no more and no less. When you are shooting, everything needed is always instantly available in perfect measure, and when the shot is over, it is over: nothing is left behind, either pride at success or sorrow over failure. Like Michelangelo, who removed everything unnecessary to reveal the statue hidden within the marble, you must remove all of the unnecessary outer layers of pride, ego, and attachment to reveal the true, essential shot hidden within you. Since true shooting is stripped of everything but its purest essence, it is completely unfettered and spontaneous, free and self sufficient. Therefore, it cannot fail. When you can shoot like this, you are said to have achieved the art of "a thousand hits without shooting".

In a way, the Shin Gyo So process can be compared to learning how to play a musical instrument. You start understanding the essentials of how to play the instrument by learning basic technique, practicing scales, and memorizing simple progressions of notes. This is Shin, drilling in the fundamentals. Once you have understood the basics, you then go on to learn more complex techniques and pieces of music, training yourself to the point where you can play the music without any mistakes. In this way, you slowly master all of the complexities of the instrument and the music. This is Gyo. At some point, after all technique and notes have been learned, you can pass beyond them and allow your spirit and soul to roam free. Now you can play the most difficult piece of music flawlessly, with a feeling and soul that no one will be able to imitate. This is So. Charlie Parker, the famous saxophonist, said "Learn your horn inside out, and then throw it all away and just play." In kyudo, it is the same: you must learn your bow inside out and then throw it away and just shoot.

However, you cannot forget something that you have never learned. In order to forget your bow you must first learn it, inside and out. You must master it so completely that there is nothing about it that you don't know. Since mastering the bow and mastering yourself are one and the same, there is no shortcut through this process. It takes years and years of practice. When you succeed, however, your shooting will be utterly unique, needing no models and allowing no imitation. It will be yours and yours alone. Only at this point can it be said that you have truly mastered your art.

Since all archers are somewhere along the Shin Gyo So continuum, their training will reflect that. A beginner cannot leap from Shin to So without passing through Gyo. The instructor must direct the students so that they can learn to find their own way along the road, introducing new elements when they are ready. Thus, the emphasis on one element or another will vary based on the level of the students' progress. Beginners start at the beginning, and more advanced students can study more advanced aspects, such as the sharei, when they are ready. What is appropriate at one level is not necessarily appropriate at another. Also, since every archer's progress is unique and individual, not all can develop or be trained at the same pace.

* Kyudo Manual, Vol. I, p. 29
** Kyudo Manual, Vol. IV, p. 182-183
*** Kyudo, The Essence And Practice Of Japanese Archery, pp. 2-3
**** Kyudo Manual, Vol. IV, p. 182, translation by the author
***** Kyudo Manual, Vol. IV, p. 183, translation by the author
****** Kyudo Manual, Vol. IV, P. 183, translation by the author
******* Kyudo, The Essence And Practice Of Japanese Archery, p. 22

Kyudo tradition is the living legacy of past masters and the guide for future development. Therefore, practice must always follow tradition and the structure it imposes.

It is natural for people to be impatient and want to hurry, or to change things to suit their tastes. In the modern world, this is usually welcomed as progress, since it makes life easier. However, this must be avoided in kyudo. Kyudo practice has been designed by the great past masters to lead you on a certain path. Therefore, it is of the utmost importance for you to realize that you must follow the guide of tradition and adapt yourself to kyudo rather than trying to adapt kyudo to your preconceived ideas. Only then will your mind become calm enough for you to be able to understand the inner meaning of kyudo.

People almost always want to be freed from the discipline that structure imposes. However, the structure of kyudo is precisely that which gives the practice direction and coherence. If it were not for this structure, everyone would do whatever they wanted and kyudo would lose its value as a Way of training. Simply put, kyudo training is supposed to be difficult. It is this difficulty and how you face it that give kyudo its value as training.

It is human nature to view things in a utilitarian way, where we judge the value of a thing only by how well it suits our immediate, selfish needs. Consequently, people are always trying to remake things in their own image and use them for their own purposes. However, kyudo demands the opposite: you must remake yourself in the image of kyudo. You must believe that there really does exist that thing known as the perfect, true shot and that its perfection and trueness are not due to any practical use it may have but are intrinsic to it and therefore have a value that transcends considerations of utility.

This is what raises kyudo to the level of art and separates it from mere craft or technique. A true shot is like any other true artistic endeavor. Regardless of the mode of expression, all real art shares something that moves the human heart: a tangible spirit of sincerity, directness, purity, and naturalness that touches the soul immediately on a deep, subconscious level. It may not be possible to rationally explain exactly what this quality is or why it affects us as it does, but it is real nonetheless and it is the difference between a true shot and one that is only the result of skillful technique. Skill is important, and mastering the technique and craft of shooting is the first prerequisite, but it is only one part of kyudo. True kyudo demands that your skill be animated by a true and honest spirit.

In kyudo, this spirit is expressed in the phrase "the true bow does not lie". A part of what this means is that your shooting always shows who you really are and your true level of skill. It also means that true kyudo brooks no dishonesty in body or mind and so shooting must be done with complete sincerity. Regardless of the results, when you do your absolute best out of nothing but a pure desire to achieve the best shot possible, your shooting is truly beautiful because you are putting everything you have into what you are doing, holding nothing back. In kyudo, this is what is meant by sincerity. Therefore, the real value of a true shot does not lie in the uses to which it can be put or in the results to be gained by it. It lies, rather, in the shot itself and the way in which the pursuit of it trains your spirit.

This attitude is of fundamental importance, and all of kyudo tradition serves to reinforce it. That is why you must accept that the past masters of kyudo understood their art and passed it on in the way that they did for a good reason. You must subordinate yourself to kyudo and believe that through practice, you will come to understand it.

It is impossible to ever be perfect in kyudo; however, you must never stop training. It is the devotion to constant training that gives meaning to kyudo as a Way of life.

There are many ways to evaluate success in kyudo. Some people achieve great skill and dignity and become "Hanshi", or living examples of the essence of kyudo. Some achieve great success in tournaments and competition. Some cultivate and maintain a healthy and balanced lifestyle through kyudo. Some develop lasting friendships through kyudo and enjoy kyudo as one aspect of a rich and cultured life. Some enjoy kyudo as a leisure activity, sport, or hobby. These are all aspects of kyudo as it practiced today, and all have their own place in modern kyudo, so long as they are balanced in relation to each other. Not everyone who practices kyudo can expect to reach the greatest heights, which are reserved for the few who really have the inborn ability, the courage and determination, the willingness to accept correction and failure, and the access to teaching required to become great.

Modern kyudo is no longer the privilege of the warrior or aristocratic classes of Japan, reserved for the chosen few. It is available to everyone now, and everyone can benefit from it. Regardless of what aspect of kyudo each of you may emphasize, from what angle or state of mind you may approach your practice, and what your level of skill, there is a common thread in kyudo that applies to and can benefit everyone who practices it.

This is the ability of kyudo to act as a vehicle for seishin tanren, or the forging of the spirit. The meaning of seishin tanren may have changed over the years, but all of kyudo tradition makes it clear that the aim of kyudo is to refine the spirit and instill virtue in the practitioner.

What is it in kyudo that gives it this ability? Yamada Jirokichi, 15th Headmaster of the Jikishin Kage Ryu of swordsmanship said: "Be satisfied with your accomplishments only at death".* This is an admonition to never stop training and seeking to improve yourself. The truth of this statement is not limited to swordsmanship; it applies to everything in life, and kyudo in particular. It is held by most masters of any art that it is not possible to ever be completely perfect in one's art or one's life, yet you must never give up the effort, since it is this effort itself which trains you. Therefore, it is not the result of training but rather the act of training itself that is important. Kyudo is a Way in that it seeks to use the art of the bow primarily as a medium for training your mind and spirit. This training will lead to great proficiency in the art of shooting if you are sincere and diligent, but this is not the sole objective. The development of character through training is the real goal.

However, kyudo is like anything else in life: it will give back to you exactly what you put into it. If you treat it as a sport, it will be a sport. If you treat it as a diversion, it will be a diversion. If you treat it as a Way, it will be a Way. Therefore, it is up to you yourself to imbue kyudo with meaning through your own efforts.

This is why honest and sincere effort is so valued in the practice of kyudo. If you can become skillful in kyudo and win tournaments with little or no effort, how does this benefit your life? How does it train your spirit? Something that comes easily is usually held to be of little worth. That is why the best test of success in kyudo is whether or not you keep practicing and never give up. If you never give up, no matter what the difficulties, it can be said that you have achieved success in kyudo, no matter what your level of shooting skill.

It is my firm belief that it is precisely this honest dedication that will lead you on the true path. To quote Murakami Hanshi again, "The strict discipline of learning self-control nurtures the spirit of fidelity, self-denial, decorum, humility, self-reflection, and harmony, and so is beneficial for cultivating the character, thus leading to a richer and fuller life. I firmly believe that the saying of the sages, "shooting is life and shooting is living", must come alive, word for word, in your daily life."**

This can only come through constant training. In this sense, it really is true that "it doesn't matter whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game". This is not a sop to soothe the feelings of those who are not as skillful as they would like to be. It goes to the heart of whether or not a person has the guts to keep training in spite of constant setbacks. It is this determination that gives meaning to the Way of kyudo and makes it possible to achieve success. Without this spirit nothing is possible, but with it everything is possible.

Part of the reason kyudo is called a Way is because it is a road to travel throughout life. On that road, every arrow that you shoot is a new arrow and gives you the chance to start out on the Way all over again. Along this Way, you will always have those days when nothing works, no matter how hard you try; on other days, everything will be so crystal clear, and the shooting will be so perfect and effortless, that you will be astounded that you couldn't see what was so obvious. The next day, it will all have vanished like a mist, "captured in the morning and lost in the evening." This is reality of kyudo practice, and you must learn from all of your ups and downs and use them as steps on your journey along the Way.

On this journey, always remember the old saying, symbolized by the Daruma doll that, no matter how many times it is knocked over, always comes back to an upright position: "Fall down seven times, get up eight times." Never give up, and you will certainly succeed.

* Modern Bujutsu and Budo, Donn F. Draeger, Weatherhill, p 104
** Kyudo Manual, Vol. IV, p. 178, translation by the author