The explanation on the “Doctrine of the Mean” was Oda Sensei’s specialty. He had unique views on this doctrine from the physical experience of Zen and Judo. For example, about one’s center of being, he said, “The center under the hara5 is the dead center. The living center is not located in one specific place; it is the balance between you and your opponent. When you are grappling with your opponent in a natural position, the living center is probably below your hara. But when you are attacked or you attack, the center can be in your toes or in your finger tips. There are two centers: one is the two dimensional center (in stillness), and the other is the three dimensional center (in movement).” It was well-worth listening to this viewpoint.6
Oda Sensei on far right, Omori Roshi second to right, and Oda Sensei’s son on the far left at a ceremony affirming the brotherhood between Omori Roshi and Oda Sensei’s son, 1931.
Yamada Jirokichi
Besides training under Maeno and Oda Sensei, Omori Roshi continued to commute to Yushinkan to practice Kendo. From the time he started training at Yushinkan, Omori Roshi had always intended to live the life of a master of Kendo. But when he was about 20, he began to seriously question Kendo training that was solely concerned with winning or losing. He wondered, “Is what I am doing enough? Going through life fighting with others, will I feel satisfied when I am about to die? Will I feel that my life was worthwhile?” So questioning, Omori Roshi thought of abandoning Kendo but found new inspiration in Yamada Jirokichi.
Yamada Sensei’s Kendo was not the Kendo that most of us know which involves striking the men (head), kote (wrist), and do (body) to score points. It was a Way, and according to Omori Roshi “by under-standing this Way, one can learn the Great Way of the Universe, and one’s character can become complete.” Omori Roshi tells of his training with Yamada Sensei below.
Quite by chance I came across an article in a copy of the magazine Chuo Ko-ron entitled, “An Evening Talk on Kendo,” by Yamada Jirokichi, which said “Kendo is not just hitting and thrusting. By understanding this Way, man can learn the Great Way of the universe; one’s character can become complete.” By contacting the magazine publisher, I found out where Yamada Sensei lived and went to see him.
That was in 1924. Yamada Sensei was living in a small house. When I met him, I said, “I was very impressed by your article in the magazine. May I become your student?” But he said, “Look, I have no dojo at my home. I can’t teach you without a dojo,” and he dismissed me. From that day on, I visited him everyday for one week. One week became ten days. Finally he said, “You are a very persistent fellow. Well, then, come to the dojo at Hitotsubashi University.” That is how I became a student of Yamada Sensei and began to learn real Kendo.
Though Yamada Sensei was the fifteenth generation master of the Jikishin Kage School and was carrying on the Sakakibara Dojo, this dojo burned down in the Great Kanto Earthquake (September, 1923), so his only dojo was at the university. Yamada Sensei was also an intellectual who has left behind many of his own writings. The primary ones are The Principles of Kendo Schools—Volumes I and II, History of Japanese Kendo, Kashima Shinden Jikishin Kage Ryu, and The Doctrines of Ancient Health Practices.
Yamada Sensei’s Kendo was entirely different from what I had studied before. For about half a year all I did was practice how to walk straight while breathing deeply. “Aaaaah (inhaling), Ummmmmm (exhaling), Aaaaah, Ummmmmm.” Usually, when my right foot went forward, my belly button moved to the left. It should have been facing forward. Next when my left foot went forward, my belly button faced right. I had to move my koshi (lower back and hips) so that my belly button would face straight forward. This is called shinpo (correct walking) and was a very basic practice in keeping the body straight. At that time, I already had a black belt ranking, but I was not permitted to hold either a bamboo sword or a wooden sword.
The chronicles of the Jikishin Kage School state this as the essence of the school: Korai shutai no yokei o nozoki, honrai seimei no gotai ni fuku suru ni ari (Cut all habits you have acquired since the day you were born and return to your Original Nature). With this in mind, I have practiced Kendo until now.
Very often Yamada Sensei would stand in the entrance of the dojo with a bamboo sword in hand. When a student casually entered the dojo, he would hit his shin sharply with the bamboo sword and say, “Kendo does not start after you enter the dojo and put on your equipment. It starts from the morning. No, it started from the time you were born,” I didn’t understand why Kendo began at the time of birth and was often hit!
Later I understood that man is continually in relation with other things. For example, in the morning when we get up, we wash our face. We confront the mirror; we confront water; we confront the toothbrush. When we wash our face with water, we feel that the water is cold and think, “It’s so cold. How unpleasant!” The water says, “men!” (a successful strike to the head in Kendo). It has hit us and taken a point on us.
As a man leaves his house for work, it is raining. If he thinks, “I wish I could have a day off on a day like this,” the weather gets a point. In this way, we are in opposition with things and others. All day long we are doing Kendo.
That is why if we truly understand the correct way to communicate between person and person, we can complete the Way of humanity. That is what Yamada Sensei taught and how I have developed my view of Kendo.7
During this time that Omori Roshi was immersed in Kendo and zazen, he became so skillful that he could kill flies with a sword, and his body was so strong that the man who measured Roshi’s chest during his medical examination for conscription in 1924 asked, “Are you a stonecutter?” As a result of his severe training, Roshi, who was only five feet two inches, had a chest that measured 40 inches. During this time Omori Roshi also had a run in with the police.
There are no known photographs of Omori Roshi at age 20 but this picture, taken at age 41, shows how well he maintained his condition.
I guess I was around 20. I was living with a few young men in a rented house in Sugamo (in Tokyo). Near the house was Somei Cemetery. Every evening, I would go for a walk there, and one time, I wondered, “If I push those stone lanterns that are lined up, would they fall down? I’m going to try.” I was training in Kendo everyday and was very proud of my brute strength, but still I couldn’t move a lantern. It bothered me so much that I went there every night. Eventually, my repeated efforts were rewarded, and I was able to push a lantern over. If I did it correctly, the stone that was on the very top and the bamboo hat shaped rock that was right beneath it would fall, roll, hit each other, and break. When I saw the broken pieces, I got very excited. It became an obsession, and I went out every night to overturn a lantern. In the end, I overturned all the stone lanterns in the cemetery. I was reported to the police and arrested.
When I was taken to the police station, I was wearing my montsuki (formal kimono with the family crest). I was told that such clothing was impertinent by the police officer in charge. I said, “Why is this impertinent? This is Japanese formal attire.” A policeman suddenly hit me. I hit back with all my might. We got into a fight that became a wrestling match. From another room seven or eight detectives came flying in and tried to hold me down. Since I was so violent, they grabbed my hair, pushed me down, and beat me with a wooden sword. There were a lot of them so I was beaten terribly. At that time, I thought that if only they had not been able to make me fall, I would not have lost. That’s why I decided to study Judo.
I was in jail for twenty-nine days. There I met Matsuda Hidegoro who had been put in jail for fighting. He was only three years older than me and was a third degree black belt Kodokan Judo student. Since I had become interested in Judo, he was a good person to talk with.
When I was finally sent to the public prosecutor’s office, I was found not guilty. In jail the pickpockets and robbers had told me to tell the prosecutor that I knew nothing about the incident, and that, as a result of being tortured, I had been forced to sign the statement. Before
my arrest, I used to do sumo with my friends. We threw each other into the walls over and over again so I had wounds all over my body. I showed my scars to the prosecutor and said, “As you see, my body is covered with wounds as the result of being tortured.”
When I was freed, I immediately went to Kodokan and began Judo training. Matsuda, who had been freed before me, had become a fourth ranked Judo student and was very arrogant. In prison he was my junior, however, so when I said, “Matsuda,” he replied, “Oh, you came.” From then on, we became good friends. For ten years, I practiced both Judo and Kendo.8
Hojo
In his training with Yamada Sensei, Omori Roshi eventually advanced from shinpo (walking practice) to the Hojo. The Hojo is a sword form originated by Matsumoto Bizen no kami Naokatsu in the middle of the Muromachi period (1333-1573). He received the teachings of the Hojo in a dream. The Hojo consists of four parts, each representing one of the four seasons: Hasso Happa (blasting from the position with the sword held above the head) is like the spirit of the rising sun which breaks forth in spring; Itto Ryodan (one sword split in two) is like the blazing summer sun that scorches; Uden Saden (right turn/left turn, changes, transformation) is like autumn leaves falling from a tree; Chotan Itchi Mi (long/short in oneness) is like the ki (energy) of the grass and trees that returns to their roots in winter. Ten minutes of intense concentration are required to perform the exacting movements of the Hojo.
In 1929 Omori Roshi underwent the grueling practice of doing the Hojo a hundred times a day for seven days. He recounts his experience below.
Onishi Hidetaka, who was captain of the Kendo Club of Hitotsubashi University, and I were told by Yamada Sensei, “In our style, after completing the hyappon keiko (one hundred time practice) one is able to receive the final certificate.” It was decided that at the end of July, we would be confined to a mountain temple in Yamanashi prefecture. After 20 days of preparation we began the hyappon keiko.
We got up at 4:00 in the morning, went down the mountain, and bathed in a river. Before breakfast we did the Hojo 15 times. After that we rested awhile then practiced 30 more times. After lunch we rested and did the Hojo 55 more times until dusk. We did zazen in the evenings.
By the third day I could shout more loudly and powerfully during practice, but my voice was so hoarse I could not speak at all. At night my body was so hot that I couldn’t sleep. Food would not go down my throat; I had only water and raw eggs. My urine was the color of blood. The arms that held the wooden sword could not be raised. We were resigned to death. I couldn’t go before Yamada Sensei and say, “I failed.” Onishi and I got out our notes and letters and burned them all as we prepared to die.
On the fourth day, a strange thing happened. The same arms that had difficulty in even holding the wooden sword went up smoothly over my head. As my arms went down, I felt a strength that was not physical coming out of both arms. It felt as if this downward cut extended to the other end of the world.
For seven days, we practiced the Hojo a hundred times daily in this manner. We finally finished at the beginning of September. Later Yamada Sensei praised me saying, “That is the Muso (No-thought) Style.” I was able to cultivate mental strength entirely because of this Hojo.9
Toyama Mitsuru and Toyama Ryusuke
Toyama Mitsuru (1855–1944) emerged from a background of poverty and samurai idealism in the streets of Fukuoka to create a new patriotic, social order which linked political rightists and the underworld of the yakuza (Japanese organized crime). He founded the Dark Ocean and Black Dragon Societies and had deep ties in the government of Japan in the 1920’s and 30’s. He and his son Toyama Ryusuke profoundly influenced Omori Roshi’s character. Omori Roshi recalls his association with them below.
Toyama Mitsuru lost his Akasaka home in the major Kanto earthquake (1923) and lived in his son Ryusuke’s home for awhile. Nearby lived Mr. Shindo, a close friend. One day when I went to visit Mr. Shindo, the two of them were playing go (Japanese chess). For a while I watched them from the corridor. After the game ended as Mr. Toyama left, I went around to the entrance of the house to say good-bye. He looked toward me and nodded. One hand held a cane, and one hand was on his chest. Although he was well into his sixties, he looked like a golden haired lion majestically leaving his lair. I felt a great degree of power and authority emanate from him.
Mr. Shindo said, “Mr. Toyama underwent a complete change after he became 50. Before 50, he was the kind of man who could step on a man’s head with his tall geta (Japanese wooden slippers) and think nothing of it. But after fifty, he became a changed man. People’s happiness became his happiness; people’s sadness became his sadness.” Once when Mr. Toyama was on a walk, a dog bit him. He took the dog to his kitchen and said, “This dog bit me. He looks very hungry. Give him something to eat.”
Another time, someone told Mr. Toyama of another person’s faults. Mr. Toyama responded, “Among ten things that man must have at least one good point. Associate with that one good point.” He didn’t bother with the bad points but worked with the good points. He could see the good in a person. I tried to do the same thing but the bad points of people seemed to stick out. It was most depressing.
Toyama Mitsuru, seated in the front row center?, at a gathering of regional right-wing leaders (c. 1935).
In another incident, Yokoyama Sensei (Omori Roshi’s calligraphy teacher) saw a scroll by Saigo Takamori (the general who led the forces of the Meiji Restoration) hanging on the second floor of the Toyama home. He told me, “Omori, that is a fake. For a man like Mr. Toyama to have an imitation hanging in his home is a disgrace. You go and tell him.” Because he told me this, I asked Mr. Toyama, “Is this Saigo calligraphy authentic?”
He answered calmly, “Yes, it is from the time when he was studying the O-ie style.”
I asked, “Did Saigo practice the O-ie style?”
“Ho, ho, ho,” he laughed in his unique way.
I thought, “Darn it!” and asked again, “Don’t you think that this is an imitation?”
He told me, “I am not hanging a scroll by Saigo Takamori. This was given to me by Sugiyama. I am hanging Sugiyama’s kokoro (heart, mind, feelings).”
Since Yokoyama Sensei told me to tell Mr. Toyama about the scroll, I did. But I made a fool of myself! In consideration for the giver, Mr. Toyama had hung the scroll; he didn’t care if it was an imitation or not.10
As much as Omori Roshi admired Toyama Mitsuru, his son Ryusuke inspired him even more deeply. Omori Roshi always repeated, “I feel very thankful to have been able to meet this kind of man (Ryusuke) during my lifetime.”
My calligraphy teacher, Yokoyama Sensei had a very sharp eye for art. In evaluating Ryusuke Sensei’s calligraphy, he said, “Because of his age, Mr. Toyama has more depth and Ryusuke Sensei is still behind his father. But in greatness of character he will probably surpass his father. Judging from his calligraphy, he is, by nature, a great man, one man out of several hundred.”
All the people that I have spoken about so far may not have been famous, but each was on the highest level in his field. I don’t think that Toyama Ryusuke was a specialist in any field, but even if you put all of the other men together, they could not come close to the greatness of this man. I met him in the summer of 1925. One day Mr. Shindo asked me, “How about going to meet Toyama Ryusuke?” I had previously heard that Toyama Mitsuru’s eldest son was an idiot, but that he was very good in go. I went to see him. Toyama Ryusuke had a lung disease and had to rest quietly, but when I went to see him, he was wearing a kimono (Japanese robe), sitting very erect. He was alone; he had a book on go in one hand and was calmly moving the go pieces.
He didn’t look like a person who was ill. His figure was thin but he was like a mountain. Here was no idiot but a truly great man of the type one can only meet once in a lifetime.
When he entered Dobun Shoin College, Ryusuke was very quiet and didn’t stand out. It so happened, however, that Sasaki Moko-o, a well-known politician gave a speech at
Dobun Shoin. People say that there was some kind of falsehood in his speech. Ryusuke Sensei silently stood up, and began to walk calmly toward the platform. He took hold of Moko-o’s wrist and pulled him down from the platform. Everyone sat stupefied. Even Moko-o could not utter a single word. Ryusuke Sensei must have had considerable inner force.
During his university days, Ryusuke would go to lectures in very formal clothing wearing a haori (formal Japanese jacket with the family crest) and hakama (formal Japanese skirt worn by men and women). He would nod at every word the professor uttered saying, “Umm, Umm,” while taking notes with a brush in characters that were one square inch large. Before a test his friends would teach him for two or three hours, feeling that if they had taught him that much it should be all right. When they asked, “Well, did you understand?” He would reply, “I don’t understand at all.” Everyone was so amazed and disgusted that they were speechless. It is said that even his mother criticized him, saying, “He is like a long spring day added to a long autumn night.” He was indeed a very slow moving person, but he was also very patient. He was a warm and quiet man of few words. But when angered, he had tremendous force like a fierce lion. One of his roars would make most people cower.
He rarely got angry, but I experienced his anger once during the time of the Manchurian Incident. My sempai (senior), was with the Asahi Newspaper and was a friend of the prime minister of that time, Konoe Fumimaro. I was asked by my sempai to see if Ryusuke’s father would go to Chung-king as Konoe’s representative. I took this request too lightly and accepted it. When I asked him, Mr. Toyama would not give me an answer, so I spoke to Ryusuke to speak to his father. Since it was such an important matter, I thought that he would agree.
Omori Sogen Page 2