Element Wisdom Poison
Earth equality pride
Water mirror-like hatred
Fire discriminating desire
Air all-accomplishing envy
Space all-accommodating ignorance
A fuller account of these associated qualities, particularly as they relate to swordsmanship, is given in appendix II.
Earth is the foundation for the other elements, and although Earth techniques are rarely applicable in kumitachi, facility in them is necessary to master techniques of succeeding levels. Even if a student has fiery qualities such as explosive body movement and sharp discernment of detail, unless Earth and Water are fully present, these strengths will be flawed and unreliable. Lacking Earth, their explosive movements will be unstable; lacking Water, the actions of the limbs will be uneven, resulting in misjudgment and injury. On the level of observation, they will be quick to snatch at isolated signals from the opponent and react to them. In this way they are driven by the affliction of desire. The Mikkyo approach to these afflictions is to recognize them as inappropriately expressed energies and devise strategies to trigger the latent qualities that will balance them.
Systematic Training with the Elements
The most important part of renma takes place not during one’s own practice but while watching the training of others. As a calligrapher reveals himself on the page through his brushwork, so the sword moving in space magnifies the qualities and defects of the swordsman. A teacher’s duty in this regard is to demonstrate techniques in a number of ways so as to highlight the presence or absence of elemental qualities. Even the most obtuse observer will begin to awaken to what they are missing when they see the stark difference, for example, between a kata performed with excess of Earth and then with excess of Water. Once this realization begins, watching the excesses and deficiencies of one’s peers will also be beneficial.
An experienced eye can judge the level of ki-ken-tai-ichi from the relationship between the sword and the body in movement. At the Earth level, the body stabilizes and then projects the sword; at the Water level, the sword moves and the body follows fluently, staying close to the ground. At the Fire level, the sword and body move explosively and simultaneously in bursts of action from the center. At the Air level, the body and sword move effortlessly and instantaneously in three dimensions wherever the mind directs. Actions of the Space level are as hard to recognize as they are to achieve, since they are spontaneous and originate from the core of being, beyond the scope of the conscious mind.
Although this fifth level cannot be taught, the first four elements are clearly present in many traditional kata, and their qualities can be elucidated by a skillful teacher. However, specific kata derived from each of the first four levels are the most powerful teaching tool. I was fortunate to begin my training with a syllabus ordered according to the hierarchy of the elements and to train for many years in another discipline that shares this elemental approach. Training in this way, one begins to recognize the dominance of one element through the appearance of the mindset, movement quality, rhythm, posture, or energetic pattern characteristic of that element.
Each element predominates in a different part of the body (see appendix II) and also governs certain functions throughout the body by means of the energetic system. In chapter 3 we noted the subtle adjustments required to make tanren effective. During the slow movements and static positions of tanren, the cultivated mind begins to recognize the sensations of different currents or “winds” at work in the body. When this sensitivity is gained, tanren is the most effective way to break through long-standing blockages and overcome chronic injuries.
Complementary Training
Musashi concludes the Earth chapter of Gorin no Sho with ten principles, including the following:
Become familiar with all the arts.
Know the Ways of all professions.
This may seem like an unnecessary if not impossible task for the swordsman, considering the already considerable demands of mastering the art of the sword. The point here is that the study of other arts will deepen and broaden one’s understanding of one’s own art (as one begins to penetrate the elements common to all). Sometimes it is easier to see what is cut off in one’s own art through participation in a different activity in which one has not yet formed fixed habits.
Bushi, the elite samurai, were exposed to many crafts and arts in everyday life. They developed a sophisticated appreciation of the aesthetic and functional qualities of their weapons, armor, and clothing as well as the carefully constructed environments of house and garden. Their sensitivity to the natural world was heightened by spending much of their time outdoors and by their exposure to literature that evoked seasonal rhythms and natural beauty. The samurai was also expected to maintain and repair his equipment himself. Similar duties formed a large part of my early training in Japan; I carved bokken and tanrenbo, ground and filed vajras and kabutowari, made training clothes, and constructed various pieces of equipment for training or mountain camping. When specialist skills were called for, I was introduced to the appropriate craftsmen and worked with them to design what was needed.
Noting a lack of enthusiasm in practical matters (compared to my appetite for physical training or scholarship), my teacher devised a singular method of training for me. This would begin on the ground floor of a department store in the city. We would slowly work our way up through all the departments while I was bombarded with a continuous stream of questions about items we came across—their origin, method of construction, aesthetic qualities, appropriateness to the different seasons, and utility. This would go on relentlessly for hours until I experienced a fatigue (bodily and mental) unlike anything I had experienced before. Over time these days grew more intimidating than the hardest mountain training. Eventually I realized that this “department-store training” engendered such exhausting resistance because it confronted my disdain for the mundane and anything I did not consider “spiritual.”
One day I recognized that same fatigue during one of the regular kumitachi sessions in which my teacher would repeatedly change weapons and ask me to select an appropriate weapon from the loaded racks to counter his choice. He made it clear that my inability to choose or adapt to the use of this succession of weapons arose from the rigidity of my mind.
It was continually drummed into me that martial disciplines and shugendo were only kept alive so long as such testing was maintained as an integral part of their practices. In the age of dojoyaburi, when wandering swordsmen would challenge the masters of other schools, all styles were subject to continuous testing and adaptation. He lamented that after generations without such testing, many schools had been reduced to skeletons or empty shells.
Study of Texts
A little theoretical knowledge is a dangerous thing, and a lot can be ruinous if it is not integrated with other activities. As their name suggests, the bushi (cultured warriors) sought that integration and gave it an importance enshrined in the samurai motto “bunbu ichi”—“literary and martial are one” (an interesting contrast with the English adage “the pen is mightier than the sword”). For similar reasons the elite samurai were also referred to as bugeisha, the practitioners of bugei (martial ways and the arts).
The samurai’s literary cultivation was in part the natural outcome of studying the Japanese language. The writing of kanji demands a draftsman’s eye and dexterity. To brush the strokes well the body must be centered, the hand relaxed and supple, and one must combine a keen appreciation for detail with an awareness of overall balance.3
Many kanji have a wealth of possible meanings as well as a unique shape or group of shapes, often with their own associations. These kanji can therefore be easily assembled to form words of subtlety and rich ambiguity. The precision and fluidity of mind this language develops is well suited to the composition of poetry and the expression of philosophical insight. This profundity is clear in the Confucian classics, including the divinatory Book of Changes, and
the core texts that set out a philosophy of spiritual discipline, duty, and social harmony; these texts were considered essential reading for the samurai. Given this rich education, it is not surprising that many bushi took an interest in Taoist and Buddhist teachings, including Mikkyo.
The insight and wisdom engendered by this culture, when combined with a shugyo in kenjutsu, is revealed in the writings of swordsmen like Miyamoto Musashi, Yagyu Munenori, and Yamaoka Tesshu. Although one can obtain good translations of works by these men as well as spiritual masters like Takuan or Kukai (the Shingon patriarch), the modern mind is ill-equipped to make use of the knowledge they contain. Discriminative powers are essential, and yet these writings are designed to take the mind to a place the analytical mind cannot follow. Only by penetrating the meaning of such texts through careful reading and rereading, together with continued efforts to test one’s understanding in a practical art, can this knowledge be of any use. One should concentrate on one or two primary sources and memorize important terms and key passages so that they become part of one’s own vocabulary.
Perfection of Vision and Action
The ideal of complete and perfect vision in Japan is personified in the bodhisattva Kannon (see color insert this page), sometimes described as the bodhisattva of compassion. (Kan refers to a deep seeing into the “heart of things”; on refers to the cries of suffering beings.) This deity plays a central role in the Taizokai mandala. Like Fudo Myo O, Kannon also has a particular significance for both practitioners of shugendo and bugei. (Tesshu had a particular devotion to her, and Musashi dedicates his Gorin no Sho to her.) In one of her best-known forms Kannon is depicted with a thousand eyes and a thousand arms. The many eyes allow her to discern the unique suffering of all beings, and the arms, each holding a different ritual object, represent her ability to assist each in a unique and appropriate way. These attributes indicate her infinite capacity to see and to act.
The Heart Sutra, the most commonly chanted sutra in Japan, begins by describing the wisdom that Kannon has found in deep meditation and uses the name Kanjizai Bosatsu—the bodhisattva who freely sees. As we have seen in the depiction of the five wisdoms, freedom to see is the outcome of freedom from attachment to any one element and leads to the freedom to act. Freedom from attachment does not come from withdrawing from the world but from opening oneself up to its totality through one’s chosen sphere. Paradoxically, the very process of training in satsujinken (the killing sword) leads inescapably to katsujinken, the life-giving sword, if the crucial goal of attaining complete knowledge of the opponent is followed to its end. The devotion to Kannon is no sentimental affectation but the recognition that she embodies the state of ultimate awareness that is the heart of seigan kamae.
Figure 18. Seigan kamae
1. In the Nakamura Ryu kumitachi kata, when uchidachi changes from chudan to jodan kamae or hasso kamae, shidachi tilts the sword and slightly extends the tip forward and upward to point directly at the opponent’s left eye (see figure 18).
2. The Godai played an important part in many religions, philosophies, and practical systems in India and Ancient Greece. They should not be confused with and cannot be usefully integrated with the Gogyo—the cycle of changes. The Gogyo is a cornerstone of Chinese philosophy and is a model of energetic cycles that has also been utilized in many Chinese and Japanese martial arts systems.
3. Not only do the same principles apply to swordsmanship, but the eight basic brush strokes exactly mirror the eight basic sword cuts. Recognition of this parallel inspired Nakamura Taisaburo Sensei to create the happo giri system of Nakamura Ryu. In China as well as in Japan it was assumed that sword masters would be skilled calligraphers.
Sanmitsu Yuga—Three Secrets Integration
8
The last dragon wakes.
Clouds are clearing
on the edge of mind.
san: three
mittsu: secrets
yuga: yoga, integration
Intensive training sustained over a long period of time brings one in contact with powerful forces. As the journey gathers momentum, the capacity of the mind to create delusions grows and mistakes have increasingly serious consequences. It is easy to confuse irresponsibility with a carefree spirit and fantasy with creativity. This confusion leads to unsteadiness in the face of setbacks and an inability to overcome self-inflation. To avoid these pitfalls, one must learn to withdraw from external activities and observe the workings of the mind itself. Only then can the nature of one’s actions and the direction in which they are leading be clearly seen. This clarification is the function of misogi (purification ritual).
Misogi practices involve prolonged periods of chanting or regulated breathing which free the mind from the forms of regular training. Misogi (where it is still practiced in martial arts schools) is usually carried out at the New Year to purge the vestiges of the old year and prepare for the new. These ceremonies are largely symbolic, their effects emotionally based and short-lived. To be effective, the process of withdrawal and clarification must be incorporated into regular training.
When carried out prematurely, intensive chanting or meditation may contaminate both mind and practice. Instead of increasing the benefits of training, it infects the mind with depression, obsession, or fantasy; the mind can neither observe clearly nor respond appropriately. Instead, misogi should consist of two short periods of sitting, one at the beginning and one at the end of practice. The first is used to clear the mind of thoughts of the day’s activities and to turn the mind toward the practice. During this time one should assess the three realms of body, mind, and energy, as Musashi advocated (see chapter 2). During the second period of sitting at the end of practice, one learns to observe the effects of training. This should be preceded by a final phase of training that slows down breathing and releases muscular contractions. The results of the day’s practice can then be more readily assessed. Until the art is mastered, different kinds of training will have different effects—both positive and negative—on mind, energy, and body. Kata brings poise but hardens the mind. Tameshigiri brings sharpness but leaves the mind greedy and narrowly focused. Kumitachi and uchikomi bring the whole body alive but excite the emotions. The slower rhythm of tanren awakens dormant energies on one level but easily results in mental stupor on another. With clarity and practice, all negative emotions and misplaced energies can be turned to one’s advantage.
Over time the mind begins to identify the presence of an inner steadiness (almost a “substance”) that accumulates as a result of successful training. This indicates that the peripheral channels have opened sufficiently for the energy of the central channel to begin to manifest. At the end of practice one should sit and remain focused on this presence until it dissipates. This allows the benefits of practice to be properly absorbed and attunes the mind to the world opening within.
This process is entirely separate from the will and cannot be forced. In part it results from the spontaneous changes that occur as one moves toward the last life stage (in the fifth decade). This phase is governed by the fifth element space and is the appropriate time to cultivate this substance in a systematic manner.
Sanmitsu Yuga
Unlike Zen, which focuses on the contemplation of breath or insight training through the koan, Mikkyo utilizes techniques close to the training processes of the sword arts. This affinity allowed the shugenja, the ninja, and some sword schools to adapt Mikkyo practices in order to deepen training and prepare for combat. All sought a state of concentration that would neutralize the debilitating effects of fear and that could be achieved in the shortest time possible. The techniques that evolved are based on Sanmitsu Yuga.
Sanmitsu Yuga (three secrets unification or yoga) is the core of Shingon practice and involves the combined use of three secrets or mysteries (triguhya in Sanskrit). These three are mandara (mandala), inkei (mudra) and dharani (mantra). They are applied simultaneously to mind, body, and speech, respectively. Together they act like a magneti
c field that entraps the consciousness so that all projections cease. This brings a complete and immediate unification of being.
Kujigiri and Kujiin
The two simplified forms used in this way are the kujigiri (the nine cuts) and the kujiin (the nine mudras). In kujigiri, the practitioner draws the outlines of the Kongokai mandala (the mandala of the diamond world) in the air while wielding either a short sword or a vajra, or with the hand shaped in the cutting mudra. Each cutting action is accompanied by a specific kiai. The function of this sequence is to purge the mind of all distractions and establish absolute clarity in nine seconds. This is usually followed by the invocation of a desired attribute or chosen deity by drawing the appropriate kanji or bonji in the air.
Kujiin is a complementary practice and involves the performance of nine inkei (hand seals or mudras). Each hand shape is accompanied by a short dharani or mantra. The nine mudras of the kujiin enact a systematic gathering of internal power and the union of that power with the pure observer.
These techniques cannot be mastered simply through the acquisition of theoretical information, although many assume the term “secrets” indicates this. Unfortunately, there will never be a shortage of people willing to encourage such misapprehensions and profit from them. The efficacy of these forms depends entirely on practical mastery—a practical mastery closely related to that which is described in the earlier chapters of this book. (In many ways swordsmen were better equipped to utilize these techniques than the monks who specialized in them.)
John Maki Evans Page 9