when a cut becomes more than an incicion

A bit of information to help to understand this post: Next to being a painter and a writer, I am a (very) enthusiastic athlete with some years of experience in several martial art and bodybuilding. And when I am interested in a subject, as it is with martial art, I sure know how to philosophy my general approach to it. Self-indulgence so to speak. But, besides self-indulgence, it brought me some genuine experiences that helped me to understand my life and life in general.

This article is about one of those experiences. It is worth mentioning that, in all the years that I have been practicing martial art, iaido became the most significant and satisfying ‘road’ I’ve walked and…this became clear only after I stopped practicing iaido…gave me valuable information on the martial arts in general. What I mean is, that the approach can (sometimes) only become clear once you take a step away from it. When you’re fully anticipated in a process, you might lose the ability to see what it really is all about. Especially when you are practicing martial art according to your own created fantasy…as if you’re trying to achieve the same feeling you get while watching a martial art movie.
The experience I will try to write about here, is one of the things that made martial art matter to me. It was this, these moments in which life itself became intwined with the martial art, that I was looking for. This was giving meaning to the whole journey and practice. These were the moments where the difficulties in life started to reflect themselves in the martial art. I hope it will become clear with what I’m about to write…

In January 2015 I attended the Ishido cup, which is an open tournament for iaido and jodo. Several high-grade sensei (teachers) were present to share their wisdom with all who were able to listen :)…
During this tournament, I was supposed to take my sandan exam (fourth dan) and participate in the competition which were held before the exam.
While I thought that the day started normal and nothing out of the ordinary was taking place, all of the sudden something happened and everything took a different turn. During the first taikai (competition), while performing “ganmen ate” (kata number eight of the first twelve seitei kata), I cut myself in my left hand. It was in the motion of turning around to prepare for a thrust with the sword.
The first thing I noticed was that the koiguchi (the opening of the scabbard) cracked from my saya (scabbard) and flew into the air and landed in front of a waiting iaidoka (someone who practice iaido). Only after finishing the kata, I realized there was a wetness on my hand and after a quick glance I discovered I had cut myself. I immediately put my hands up in the air and waited till the referee would take notice of what happened. I didn’t have to wait very long. I had to stop the competition and went to the hospital to get two stitches. No exams for me……

Now, the fact that I cut myself due to an incomplete “sayabiki” (pulling the scabbard back so the sword can be drawn out of the scabbard more easily) and bad awareness is one part of the story. I was actually more surprised than being bothered by this and I knew this was just a technical matter that could be altered easily. Also, losing the chance to do the sandan exam was easily accepted although it was a disappointment.
What became more important to me, was the question that almost immediately arose: Why did I cut myself?
This question was stuck in my head for two weeks until, during and after my weekly training, I got an answer.
But, before I get tell you about this answer, there is something I need to write about first.
In December 2013, I wrote a small article for Zanshin (national magazine for iaido and kendo) about coming across ones ‘demons’ while practicing iaido. This article came to life as a response to an article written by one of the leading sensei here in the Netherlands.
When I read this particular article, I immediately recognized the dilemma on how to describe what iaido exactly is. How do you explain to an outsider what iaido is? And more specifically, what it means for you personally. And because the article described something that is hard to put in words, I became even more motivated to write down what it means to and for me. Because, maybe some of you who practice iaido will recognize this at some point, the practice of iaido will become a more and more personal journey once you reach a certain point in your practice. This journey is not easy to describe to others because the experiences you have are most of the time so subtle, so serene even, that already the effort of trying to put this into words would demolish the actual experience. And yet, I wanted to give it a try. Also, but this might be an established fact already, to acknowledge that iaido is indeed (much) more than someone taking out a sword, making a few swings before putting it back.

Ever since the moment I started my training at Kendo Kai Higashi in Arnhem, I haven’t had a single training in which I wasn’t challenged. Already after just a few weeks, training as a beginner, I experienced a strong Deja-vu in which I literally lost my balance. I took it as an understanding that I was in the right place.
Since then, I would have mixed feelings every time I entered the dojo. It felt like coming home mixed with having fear to enter. Coming home because it became obvious that iaido made me feel at home. Coming home because I found some sort of peace in the “iai” (drawing the sword with full awareness). Fear because every time I was confronted with my inner ‘demons’ which were standing between me and the “iai”, or…to describe it better, perhaps…’demons’ because it would withhold me from being fully ‘aware’ in the moment of drawing the sword.

It is important to understand the concept of ‘fear’ within this article. Fear itself is, in a way, something that can be called ‘a demon’. The word ‘demon’, the way it is used in this article, reveres to something that is withholding you from being without fear, or to be able to see, or feel, things clearly, not clouded by negativity. Those ‘demons’ will always, consciously or unconsciously, manifest themselves through your thought-system. As you might understand, once a ‘demon’ is discovered, it becomes acknowledged, and, from there on out, will start to be a burden.
But this fear can actually be an excellent instrument to improve one’s iai and it can serve you as a stimulator. But on the other hand, it can just as well manifest itself in a negative way. And when this was happening to me, my performance became aggressive and very tense. Also, I would find myself doing battle with myself just to find a way to get rid of the tens and aggressiveness and have a good training. I’m pretty sure that most probably several teachers must have wondered why I gave such a stubborn impression. If so, I would like to apologize. Never was it the words spoken to me that caused my stubbornness but it was my inability to handle my demons…

Now, after more than ten years of practicing, I had the luck that some of those demons became known to me and I learned to see that the actual practice of iaido can have a significant impact on how to deal with those ‘demons’.
Every moment I spent in the dojo, or better said, every moment I practice iaido, gave me the ability to look some of the demons in the eye to such a way that it stopped being an obstacle: “saya no uchi” (victory without drawing the sword).
Still, each time, while I was putting on my hakama and gi, preparing myself mentally and physically for the training, I realized that while I would enter the dojo, I would enter a gentle battle with myself.

But what made this insight interesting was that I started to literally imagine that it was me who standing in front of me…it was me who was becoming my opponent. I started to do this purposely, to create a clear image…clear sense…of the fact that the victory that I might enjoy will be just as quickly erased due to my own presence. This sense became stronger and stronger till the point that I felt that as long as ‘I’ was present within this action, within this battle, I would never be able to stand up with full sincerity after a kata was finished.
This brought me to a whole new approach in practicing iaido. Several times, when I intended to start a kata (whether this was sitting on the floor in seiza or standing), I would have to convince myself to continue the kata. This meant that I could sit in seiza just ‘waiting’ for the right moment to put my hands on the sword.
For this reason, I have experimented with the time you can permit yourself before you actually have to draw your sword. This resulted that during my individual practice I sometimes was sitting for more than ten minutes in seiza just ‘waiting’ for the right moment to get into action. The challenge here was to find out for how long I could hold my grip on being present without losing the awareness, the iai. In other words, I was trying to find out when one of my demons would claim victory over me. The drawing of the sword could then only take place when the grip on being present with full awareness wasn’t lost.
When described in this way, it almost sounds like a paradox to draw the sword al together, because…losing your awareness is, in the end, inevitable.

You could say that the simple fact of drawing one’s sword becomes an act of slicing your inner demon into pieces. And it is this paradox that made iaido so interesting and beautiful for me.
Being, or to be fully present and aware, within iaido, is something you might refer to as an unchangeable line that shapes itself through all that has shape as well what is shapeless. This ‘being’…what is called ‘iai’…is the actual ingredient that you practice when performing a kata, when practicing iaido. Eventually it is the attention to the ‘demon’ that keeps you from being fully aware. Being fully aware, having a strong ‘iai’, is kind off stepping out of one’s self. So, in other words, you could say that the demon will manifest itself through the practice of a kata.
That said, it is not altogether wrong to say that every impurity…every demon that is manifesting itself…in your performance will be a disturbance in that line.

Several years ago, I attended the National championship for iaido. After the second pool I was out. This was a considerable disappointment for me. Especially since the year before, I managed to enter the knock outs. After the championship I asked the leading sensei what he could see in my performance. Or actually, I wanted to know what he didn’t see, what he missed in my performance. He told me that before my iai was stronger.
This got me thinking. And after some pondering it became clear to me that our daily life is, at every point, being exhibited in performing iaido. Ever since that moment, I learned that nothing is separate from anything else and that we are not just viewers to a private show but that we are part of everything.

Everything is being displayed in what we do and how we do it. Especially when this ‘doing’ is anticipating so strongly on your ability to be aware. And, of course, even more when this ‘doing’ is fully focused on performing one single action.
It was great to discover that iaido has such a rich history which can be explored and experience through the practice of the ‘Shoden’, ‘Chuden’ and ‘Okuden’ koryu kata. These are the more elaborate and older kata within the practice of iaido. I honestly can say that, after being able to learn these kata, my understanding of iaido in general, increased dramatically. But perhaps the real richness I found, lies in the moment when I found the ability to find myself in a moment in which my demons became nothing more than my private dancing partners instead of oppositions.

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But let’s go back to where this story was setting of…
During the training two weeks after the injury occurred, I set my mind to re-evaluating my iai. I wanted to fully focus on every detail, every movement in every kata. I than realized that through the years I neglected several parts within each kata and was now able to improve these points. While performing the kata, already during this training, I noticed that my performance instantly became better, more relaxed and bigger. This felt as a big bonus but it still didn’t quite answer the question why I cut myself.
On the evening after the training I was doing the dishes and suddenly I just figured it out. There it was…I had a wonderful training and that I knew why I cut myself during the Ishido cup.
It was a way for me to accept a fearful demon. And…trust me…no high-flying spiritual enlightenment stuff here. What happened was, that on that particular moment I realized that a very prominent ‘demon’ was ready to be ‘cut’.
Let me explain: through the years of practicing iai(do), and other budo before that, one thing was always in my way: the need for confirmation and acknowledgement of being good at something…in this case iaido. It is something I knew very well but made sure to tuck it away in one of those beautiful gilded boxes that you hide somewhere were you think no-one will find them although they are standing in plane side. I always felt it was something bad, something to be ashamed of, because you shouldn’t want to ‘ask’ for confirmation from anybody for anything. I had no idea how to deal with it so I just ignored it. But, with all things that you ignore, it will find a way to come knocking on your door and for most of the times it is at a very inconvenient moment and in a very uncontrollable and forced manner. My eagerness for the acknowledgement that I was good became an obstacle in having and keeping an open mind. Although my performance wasn’t bad, it was on this crucial moment completely overshadowed by this ‘demon’.
It all unfolded itself in an interesting cut while performing “ganmen ate” during the Ishido cup.