The AKR has requested seminar stories and reports to share with those who could not attend the 2010 IKYF tournament and seminar in Japan. Here is the report of Kevin Lo, Nidan, Northen California Kyudo Renmei.
Kevin Lo, Seishinkan, NCKF, AKR
On a chilly late April week this year, I participated in the sho-dan group at the second international kyudo seminar. Held in the Chuo dojo at the historic Meiji Jingu at Shibuya, it brought together a diverse crowd from all over the world for the practice and to receive instruction from the many Japanese sensei and fellow practitioners. While I have been to Japan and Tokyo many times, it was the first time I set foot into the hallowed grounds of Meiji Jingu. As we were the sho-dan group, there were a wide range of skillset and experience, and the sensei ensure that we all progressed at a similar pace and getting the basic foundations. Our group consisted of mostly French and English speakers, and we received great consecutive interpretation in English from Yoshiko sensei as well as in French. For those who may not be conversant in the three languages spoken and used, unlike say a cross-border corporate negotiation a large part of kyudo is still demonstrative, so a lot of what was said was understood. For me personally what fascinates me is the seeming paradox of accumulated knowledge of a skill over a long period of time, and the oft-repeated axiom that kyudo is a process of continued learning. The fact that while all four instructions have had years of experience, while at the same time offer different variations of a specific point, embodied this "new" and "old" aspects of kyudo.
In the progressively cold week, where winds and precipitation howled in to the shajo, we persevered through numb fingers and runny noses. Thankfully the sensei allowed us to wear jackets and scarves when not shooting. And while we did our best to remember our sanjujumonji, or when arctic blasts purposefully blew during our kai, I imagined what former kyudoka must have gone through, perhaps sitting for hours in seiza, or going through the proverbial 100-shot day with a much stronger bow, or being reprimanded by much stricter sensei, our misery seemed all relative then.
Then the day came. Our almost week long training of accelerated muscle memory, Japanese instruction that were given in English and French, remembering what not to do because the sensei told you more times than not, distilled into eight minutes inside our usual practice arena, which was also one of the most hallowed places in kyudo. From the moment I stepped in to the moment I stepped out, it felt like sped up time but with drawn out hassetsu; each moment reached an uncanny clarity, but with a distorted sense of progression. As many kyudoka can relate, the wait of the moment was certainly more anxiety-inducing than the moment itself, and by then I for one was relieved that I didn't make any egregious mistakes, than passing the exam itself. The written portion followed shortly, and though memories of SAT II were none too fond, it was a gradual realization that our training, at least this round, was complete.
The result of the test itself was positive, but the knowledge of the end of the training was bittersweet. After expressing my gratitude to the many teachers who participated in the seminar, seeing so many people from all over the world reminded me of the nascent global nature of the sport, and we are in some ways partaking in a vanguard movement of a ancient martial art, in a world very different from that conceived by the founders of the renmei. The international kyudo movement is taking shape before our eyes, yet we are certainly fortunate to be bestowed the combined knowledge and hard work of those that came before us.