Seishinkan Kyudojo

AUTHOR'S NOTE
T he following essay is a statement of my personal kyudo philosophy, intended primarily for my own students. As such, it presupposes a certain amount of familiarity with kyudo on the part of the reader. I have decided to make it generally available since one of my students suggested that it might be of some interest to others in the kyudo community. It is nothing more than my personal reflections, so it contains no instructional information on kyudo technique, ceremony, or practice methods. For authoritative information on kyudo, I refer the reader to Volume I of the Kyudo Manual published by the All Nippon Kyudo Federation (ANKF) and to Kyudo, The Essence And Practice Of Japanese Archery, by Onuma Hideharu Hanshi and Dan and Jackie DeProspero. These are the best English-language source books available for kyudo as it is most widely practiced in Japan today. I hope that nothing I say in the following pages can be taken to contradict anything to be found in either of these two volumes.

In writing this essay, I have made use of some Japanese language information that is not, to my knowledge, available in English. I take full responsibility for any mistakes I may have made in the translation of this material.

Since there is broad agreement within the kyudo community on most of the fundamentals of kyudo, much of what I say in the following pages may be familiar to those with kyudo experience. I have tried to be as original as possible in my presentation, and I hope that I have not inadvertently copied anyone else’s work, or used sources without proper attribution. If I have, I apologize in advance and ask only that it be remembered that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This work is dedicated to all of my teachers, but most especially to:

Kitayama Mitsuhide Hanshi, who taught me
Murakami Hisashi Hanshi, who trained me
Uchiyama Tozo Hanshi, who took care of me

I would also like to thank the All Nippon Kyudo Federation, Urakami Hiroko Hanshi (the daughter in law of the late Urakami Sakae Hanshi), and Nakajima Sakae Hanshi for giving me permission to quote from their work in the preparation of this manuscript. Thanks must also go to Mr. Dan DeProspero, who has offered me much good advice over the years, and whose book is a source of constant encouragement.

FOREWORD
In March of this year I received the dojo name "Seishinkan" from my teacher and benefactor, Uchiyama Tozo, Hanshi 8th dan. In view of this, I thought that it would be a good time to try to explain the philosophy that guides my kyudo practice. The essential ideas and concepts that make up this philosophy are not in any way original or unique, and they can be easily found in one form or another in the Kyudo Manual or other published sources. Naturally, my teachers taught these concepts to me in their own way and I then understood them through my own experience. I have tried to present them here in my own words to the best of my ability. In any event, I believe that what I say in the following pages is a faithful interpretation of the teaching that I have received, explained in the light of what I have learned through my personal practice. I hope that it does not shame my teachers and will help, in some small way, to shed some light on kyudo.

Everyone practices kyudo in their own way for their own reasons. Since the experience of kyudo is such a personal thing, each archer will have his or her own interpretation of kyudo. Because of this, no single interpretation can encompass all of kyudo, and the multitude of possible interpretations only reflects the multifaceted nature of kyudo itself.

This does not mean that anything can be called kyudo, however. There are certain fundamental elements about which there is no room for dispute, and living tradition defines the boundaries within which kyudo exists. Within that set of boundaries, however, all archers will naturally have their own personal vision of what they believe to be true kyudo and will express it in their own way. Everyone has such a personal philosophy, whether or not they articulate it, and so I have decided to try to explain mine.

Many Westerners are initially attracted to kyudo because of its beauty and its seemingly exotic and mysterious nature. Until recently, much of the available literature tended to describe kyudo in a romantic and mystical manner, presenting it as something arcane, otherworldly, or even impractical. Traditional Japanese teaching methods, relying as they do on intuition and unspoken communication, only deepen the mystique which surrounds kyudo.

Kyudo is indeed profound, but it is not magic. The profundity of kyudo lies precisely in its essential simplicity. The basic act of shooting consists of only eight steps, and kyudo has little or nothing in the way of secret or hidden techniques that only the initiated adept is privileged to know. Kyudo rests on a few essential fundamentals, and correct shooting requires, primarily, that you learn to relax, do away with all strain and tension in your body and mind, purify your spirit, and fill yourself with vitality and courage. When you can do this, your body will come to life, your mind and spirit will naturally deepen, and your kyudo practice will deepen in response. As easy as this may sound, anyone who has practiced kyudo for any length of time knows how truly difficult it is, and it is the very difficulty of doing something that is seemingly so simple which gives kyudo its depth and subtlety. Because the human spirit is infinitely protean, kyudo is infinitely protean. Like snowflakes, no two shots are ever exactly alike, so you can always learn something new, no matter how experienced you may believe yourself to be.

True kyudo comes from within your own heart and soul, and it is through practice that you discover it. I believe, therefore, that anyone who has the intestinal fortitude to persist in the practice of kyudo will come to understand what kyudo has to teach, regardless of the level of shooting skill they may eventually attain.

Kyudo attempts to train your mind and spirit through training your body in the art of archery. Kyudo philosophy holds that the mind and the body are two intimately related parts of one integrated whole and so your mind and spirit can be seen in how you shoot. Shooting the bow correctly requires proper technique guided by a proper mind and spirit, so you attempt to gain the proper mind and spirit by doing the technique properly, and vice versa. Viewed strictly in the context of shooting, this pure mind and spirit is therefore a very practical need, since it is precisely that which allows you to shoot well. All of kyudo practice is structured to help you achieve this mind and spirit and give you the medium through which to express and refine it.

This is why I have chosen the dojo name "Seishinkan". The "Sei" of Seishinkan is written with the character "kiyoi", meaning pure, clear, or unpolluted. (This is also related to "sumashi" or a clear mental state.) The "Shin" is written with the character for "kokoro", meaning mind, soul, spirit, or heart. "Kan" means hall and refers to the shooting hall. Thus, Seishinkan can mean "Hall Of Pure Mind" or, perhaps more poetically, "Place Where The Mind Is Purified". This purity of mind is, I believe, the most important quality to strive for in the practice of kyudo, since success or failure depends upon it.

The ultimate aim of kyudo is higher than just success in target shooting, however. Kyudo philosophy holds that the true kyudo spirit must be evident not only in your shooting but also in how you live your life. Judging the character of others is a very delicate matter since everyone has differing views on what constitutes a good human being, so I will confine my remarks to what I believe is the proper way of practicing kyudo itself and leave a discussion of virtue and morality to others. Suffice it to say that if your shooting is honest and forthright you will also be honest and forthright in your dealings with other people, and the strength of character you gain through the practice of kyudo should help you treat others with compassion and humility. In this way, kyudo attempts to train you so that you can influence society at large for the good, thus helping to foster peace and harmony between people. This is the virtue of kyudo.

As is only natural, my ideal of kyudo is still evolving, as it must if my practice is to remain vital. Although the thoughts expressed in the following pages are an attempt, however incomplete, to explain that ideal, I do not claim to have succeeded in living up to it. Nevertheless, it seems to me that the value of kyudo lies in striving for the attainment of a noble goal and that this striving improves those who strive. I offer these words in that spirit.

Earl Hartman
September, 1995