“The new bow is as good as mine,” he whispered to his friend. His friend smiled back and nodded.
“Very good,” said the stranger looking over the cliff. “This will do nicely.”
“All right,” said Saito, pulling an arrow from his quiver and setting it on his string. He was about to pull it back when the stranger put a hand on his shoulder.
“Wait,” he said. “Remember, I get to choose where you stand.” Saito returned the arrow to his quiver.
The stranger walked along the edge of the cliff, obviously looking for something. A small, flat boulder caught his attention. He nudged it with his foot. It rocked slightly. He stepped up onto it. It shifted and slipped. Saito caught his breath, fearing it would topple over the edge. It held, but barely. The stranger stepped down.
“This is the place I choose,” he said, point to the boulder. “Shoot from here, atop the rock.”
Saito’s smile faded. He walked to the edge cliff and looked down. His toe caught some loose gravel. It clattered over the edge and bounced down the cliff. The tree looked suddenly smaller. “But if I fell,” Saito said, “I might be killed.”
“Oh, yes,” the stranger said. “I’d say you would certainly be killed.” Saito stared at the rock. He tested it with his hand. It rocked, its front edge dipping down over the precipice. He shot a glance at his friends. They stood motionless, their eyes wide. A look of resolution came over Saito’s face.
“I’ll do it,” he said. Slowly, deliberately he approached the rock, drawing the arrow from his quiver again. He stepped his first foot onto the rock. The wind caught the tip of his bow and tugged at it gently. The boulder shifted slightly under his weight. Saito froze.
“There’s the whip of the string to think about,” he said, his foot still gingerly resting atop the boulder. “Let me think for a moment here.”
“Yes,” said the stranger. “There is the whip to consider. But it would be no different from the shot you took from on top of the rock down there.” Saito’s eyes again went to the meadow. It seemed to swim below him.
Carefully he edged his second foot into place. Slowly he drew his bow. The wind gusted. Saito scrambled back to safety.
“It was a silly bet in the first place,” he muttered putting the arrow back in his quiver.
“Yes, it was, wasn’t it?” the stranger replied. “But that doesn’t really matter given that we both gave our word.” Saito looked into his eyes. He was serious.
“Yes,” Saito said. “I gave my word. I will come to your house each afternoon for a year to work for you. It beats falling over this cliff.”
The stranger smiled. “I suppose it does. Now before we go down, may I ask a favor?” he said. “May I borrow your bow and an arrow?”
Saito nodded and handed him his bow and the arrow he had just put back into his quiver. The stranger bowed deeply as he received it. He turned, walked to the edge of the cliff, and climbed atop the rock. Carefully, he drew the bow, then paused and waited. Almost imperceptibly, the string released itself. It whipped against the upper part of the bow with a crisp, clear sound. The arrow flew.
Saito and his friends stepped to the edge of the cliff and cautiously peered down. There was the arrow protruding out of the exact center of the tree trunk.
“All this time you have been shooting to improve your aim,” said the stranger backing away from the cliff. “Come to my house tomorrow when the sun is low on the horizon. I’ll introduce you to my other kyudo students. Then you can begin shooting to improve yourself.”
Fifty Thousand High Blocks” is a modern story. It is based, however, on an ancient practice—a test of the student’s patience. Some teachers made students wait weeks or even years before they would take them on as students. Other teachers would ask students to do chores for several weeks or months before teaching them martial arts. Other teachers would ask students to repeat a single technique over and over before giving them a new technique. These tests were not as cruel as they may seem at first glance. They were, rather, the teachers’ way of seeing whether the new student had the patience and selfcontrol to begin learning the martial arts. They knew that the martial arts, like many new skills, require years of patient repetition to master. They knew that to learn to fight meant first to learn perseverance.
Fifty Thousand High Blocks
A young woman who wanted to learn to defend herself sought a martial arts teacher to teach her. She rode her bicycle to a nearby kung fu school, and asked the teacher for lessons.
“Are you willing to practice?” the teacher asked. “Of course,” said the young woman.
“Good,” said the teacher. “Your first task is to learn to punch. Do it like this.” He showed the young woman the first basic punch. He worked with her until her technique was correct. Then he stepped off the training floor. “What I want you to do is practice the punch fifty thousand times. When you have finished, let me know.”
The young woman watched the teacher leave. Fifty thousand times! That would take her days. When the teacher was out of sight, she snuck out the door, got on her bike, and rode down the street.
After a short ride, she saw a tae kwon do school. She parked her bike, went inside, and asked the teacher to teach her.
“Are you willing to practice?” the teacher asked. “Of course,” said the young woman.
“Good,” said the teacher. “Your first task is to learn to kick. Do it like this.” She showed the young woman a basic front kick. She worked with her until her technique was correct. Then she stepped off the training floor. “What I want you to do is practice this kick fifty thousand times. When you have finished, let me know.”
This time the young woman thought perhaps she might try to do the kick fifty thousand times. She counted ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred. After the hundredth kick, she decided she would never be able to do a thousand kicks much less fifty thousand. She snuck off the training floor and went out to her bike.
After a short ride, she came upon a karate school. Maybe this teacher could teach her to fight without so much repetition. She parked her bike, went inside, and asked the teacher to teach her.
“Are you willing to practice?” the teacher asked. “Of course,” said the young woman.
“Good,” said the teacher. “Your first task is to learn to block. Do it like this.” He showed the young woman a basic high block. He worked with her until her technique was correct. Then he stepped off the training floor. “What I want you to do is practice this block fifty thousand times. When you have finished, let me know.”
The young woman was disappointed. This teacher was just like the others. But she really wanted to learn to defend herself, so she began to practice the block. She counted a hundred, two hundred, three hundred. At four hundred blocks she was positive that she understood the technique. She went to the teacher.
“Teacher,” she said. “I’m ready to learn something new.”
“Good,” said the teacher. “Have you done the high block fifty thousand times?”
“Yes,” the young woman lied.
“Fine,” said the teacher. “Come with me.” She brought the young woman to a beautifully made weapon rack. The young woman looked at the handcrafted tonfa, nunchaku, and eiku. This is more like it, the young woman thought to herself. I would love to learn to handle one of these fine weapons.
“Reach up to the shelf on top of the rack,” her teacher said. “On the shelf you will find a bo, a long staff. We’ll need it for your next lesson.” The young woman reached up to the shelf. It was far above her head. Standing on tiptoe, she felt around until she felt the bo with the very tips of her fingers. She rolled it forward carefully, but as it rolled over the front lip of the shelf, it slipped through her fingers and dropped. She scrambled to catch it, but it fell, hitting her squarely on the top of her head.
“That’s stran
ge,” the teacher said. “Most people after fifty thousand high blocks would have blocked that bo automatically.”
The young woman felt her ears grow red with embarrassment. “I didn’t exactly finish the fifty thousand,” she said.
“I didn’t think so,” said the teacher. He picked up the bo from the floor, replaced it on the shelf, and walked off the training floor. The young woman rubbed the growing knot on her head, and began doing high blocks.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Susan Lynn Peterson is a professional writer and Gold Medallion Book Award finalist. She holds a third-degree black belt in Okinawan Shuriryu karate and is a USA Karate Federation national champion. She has studied karate, kubudo, Shaolin Chuan Fa, and Tai Chi Chuan, and has taught karate and kobudo at KoSho Karate San in Tucson, Arizona. She is also the author of Starting and Running Your Own Martial Arts School, and her magazine articles have appeared in Black Belt, New Body, and FightingWoman News.
Legends of the Martial Arts Masters Page 10