Kendo: The Way Of Gentleness -- Part II
BY ALAN WATTS
Aside from judo, Zen has perhaps had more influence on the Japanese art
of fencing called
kendo. "Ken" means the sword, "Do", the "Way". Together, they create
"The Way of the
sword." This suprises many people because they think, "How can the
pacifistic philosophy
of Buddhism be connected with anything so ferocious as the art of
fighting?" But it was.
Shortly after Zen Buddhism was introduced into Japan it became the
favorite way of life of
the Samurai, those feudal Japanese warriors who were for many centuries
there involved
in perptual civil war between the various feudal lords. And as they
lived in constant
danger, constant insecurity, they took up Zen as a way of peace in the
midst of fighting.
But what about the ethics of this? It seems a simple problem. Either
we're going to have
fighting in a war or we're not. Now if we've made up our minds that it
will be necessary to
fight, that there must be soldiers, then, surely, there is not
alternative but to do it well. In
other words, if you're going to chop somebody's head off, chop it with a
complete decision,
because a half-hearted chop is very agonizing for the victim. So in the
same way, as
somebody said, "If you're going to tell a lie, make it a good one!" No
shilly-shallying about
these things. And this is the attitude of Zen. If you're going to do any
evil deed, really do
it; if you're going to make a mistake, make it a good one. And so the
whole philosophy of
the sword is deeply imbued with Zen.
Let's take a good look at one of these Japanes swords. They venerate
things. You should
see how beautifully the are wrapped in their silk case with brocade on
it. Lovely things.
This one has a blade, oh, probably about 400 years old, and it was lent
to me by Mr. Shibata.
It's a terrifying instrument, just a big, heavy, two-handed razor. Look
at this... worn at the
side, you don't draw it then go into action -- you can draw it and go
into action at any
moment. And it's principle of balance is such that the right hand pulls
it at its
convienient center of balance, while the left hand can simply control
the movement very
rapidly with a good principle of leverage. So practically all the
defense of blows from either
side is simply accomplished by slight movements of the blade from side
to side giving
great economy of movement.
There is sometimes only one rather startling and dramastic looking form
of defense -- the
wrist cut -- and only one thrust -- straight at the throat. And then the
blow to the head.
You've probably heard the shout (in Japanese the "Kiai") in the Japanese
[Samurai] films,
and you wonder, perhaps, what that is. That comes from Zen.
There was an old Chinese Zen master called Rinzai. Ane when people asked
him, "What is
the meaning of Buddhism?" he'd let go with a kiai -- "Ho!" They were
profoundly
disconcerted One simply, if you're a philosophical gentleman, does not
answer questions
like that. But that again, is a trap to see if the questioner can be
phased and thrown off
center. And so, in the same way, the Samurai in attack uses the same
terrifying shout, as
it were, to startle his opponent into losing his balance and thinking
for a moment. And if
he thinks, and hesitates, he has lost.
Now, of course, the practise of this of this is carried out with bamboo
swords and we can
watch a young Japanese fencing student putting on his bamboo armor, as
he gets ready for
a bout. They wear this helmet which is somewhat like the old-style steel
helmets worn by
the Samurai in medieval times. And they wear breats plates of laquer and
heavily padded
gauntlets. And then, in the fencing room, they salute one another -- and
then they start in.
And then you can see this two-handed sword in use. As in judo, one must
move without
stopping. So, in fencing, there is to be no interval between attack and
defense. In watching
good fencers, they seem to "dance" together and to, as it were, be going
through the
motions as one body -- and then there's that one critical moment where
one man loses his
gaurd and he's done for. So the attitude is called, in Chinese, mo chur
chu , which means
going straight ahead. A Zen poem says:
Under the sword lifted high
Is hell making YOU tremble;
But go straight ahead
And there is the land of bliss.
No stopping. Complete response to the moment. And this is particularly
true, for example,
if a single man is surrounded by several opponets. He can't hesitate and
wonder "What is
this fellow going to do to next?" Because when he is defending himself
he, as it were, his
mind is stuck on an opponet here -- he could be caught unawares from an
opponent other
there. So what he has is what is called an "unstuck mind;" an ability to
be alert to the
whole situation around you, so that if your mind gets fastened at any
particular point,
you're caught by that point. And so this "unstuck" mind is the
fundamental requirement,
not only for the artist in fencing, but also for the practitioner of
Buddhism.
Now, in the hands of a man who is really both adept in Zen and adept in
fencing, the sword
of destrucion can in a curious way become a symbol of mercy. For the
highest school of
Japenese fencing is called "The No Sword School." To be able never to
use the sword.
A good story about this is that there was a great Samuri traveling on a
ferry boat. And just
as they were putting off, another drunken, rowdy Samurai stepped on and
started bragging
about his powers. And he turned to the first Samurai and said "Well,
what's your school of
swordmanship?" And the first Samurai politely answered, "Mine is the
"No-Sword school."
"Ha-ha!" he said, "I'd like to see your "No-Sword school!" and
immediately he challanged him
to a fight and pulled out his sword. The first Samurai said, "Excuse me,
but if we fight on
this boat we may hurt innocent bystanders. Why don't we go and fight on
that island over
there?" So they got the boatman to move over to the island and, as they
arrived, the
ruffian jumped off onto the island all ready to begin the fight. And at
that moment, the
other Samurai grabbed the oar from the boatman and pushed the boat away
into the island
and left the rowdy stranded. "There," he said, "is my "No-Sword School!"
This applies, too, even in the actual making of the sword by the
swordsmiths whose craft
in Japan is something of a ritual. And as an example of "No-Sword" in
the work of a very
skilled swordsmith, let me tell this story:
There were two swordsmiths in old Japan. One who was considered the
greatest, and the
other just a little inferior. And they had a test one day as to which of
them made the best
blade. And they first took the blade of the second-best swordsmith and
put it in a stream
like this, and set a piece of paper floating down towards it -- and the
sword simply slit
through the piece of paper and the paper then joined together on the
other side of it and
went on down the stream. How could that be improved? They then put in
the sword made
by the greatest swordsmith and wondered, "How can this be better than
the one we've just
seen?" Well what happened was that the piece of paper came down the
stream toward the
sword but then, rather then being slit in two, it simply floated around
it -- thus avoiding
the sword - and went on.