I arrived 15 minutes late to the dojo on Wednesday. It was half-purposeful. Oh hell, it was intentional. Not only had I read the bit in the handbook where it says 'lateness is a sign of disrespect and will not be tolerated', but I wanted to see if they meant it. And I was up to the boss level fight in EarthLurker with my strange creatures in Jade Cocoon 2 and I just had to get up to the 3rd level of the earth world ['Groundwork'] before I left. Which I started at five-to-seven and still got there within 20 minutes. And beat the beast. Ha!
It was back to mostly novices again tonight. And they were well into the warm-up routine. Those crazy Japanese. They really do have a thing for ritual. So I bowed, shuffled and joined the circle mid-way through the calf rises. And they're still making themselves known my calves, now, two days later.
Again it was mostly practicing our single men cuts. 30 at a time, over and over again, with the prowling instructors ready to slide their shinai between your ankles if they're getting too close together, or to prevent you from swinging back further than the mandated 45° behind the head. The first time they do that, holding their shinai up to stop your shinai in its tracks, I tell you, it gives you qute a fright. Because you can't see them and you're certainly not expecting to hit something. And they do it silently. I think I must've jumped a good foot in the air the first time I got pulled up.
A lot more footwork, a lot more men. And then something new. Like an unexpected gift, and I don't count syphillis and its ilk in this analogy, we were bidden face an opponent. Of the same height. So of course, when I turn, I happen to be opposite the smallest girl in the whole class, a sweet little chinadoll with big eyes and a cheeky smile. Then again, there is only one other bloke in the class who is over six foot. As the number of attendees was uneven I get saddled with of the experienced fellows in blue. Actually, by the end of the session, I'd faced off against three of them. And, not wanting to be too much of a suck (which is damn-near impossible as a 'mature-age student', even in an all-ages class), I'm glad I did. It meant that I got a bit o' special attention. And someone to say "you're coming along quite well there" at the end. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
So we're facing each other. Me and the encouraging middle-aged bloke who started "in the May class two years ago". And we're in kamae. With our swords crossed. With our eyes focussed on one another. Now that's a concept that's hard to get used to. It's kinda like a staring competition, where you can't laugh or smile or break eye contact, and you're all 'how soon till I get an excuse to look away?' It's all so serious. Then again, the point of holding their gaze is that it gives you an excellent level of peripheral vision.
And this time we're to maintain kamae, maintain distance and, no, you'll never guess what else. Hands up those who said 'practice our footwork'! You got it. This time though, the main instructor was calling 'forwards' or 'backwards' in Japanese for each step, and we had to react and move as a pair. I must have gotten a little cocky, because my partner in blue told me 'don't anticipate which way he'll call'. But then he kept doing it himself, so I could rightfully smirk . Kendo suck.
Once that was out of the way, more stroke practice was in order. This time facing a partner—the first time we've actually had a chance to swing the shinai in the general direction of an opponent. Yay! So our opponent holds his (or her) shinai horizontally above their head, about 2 fists out from the forehead, and we get to whack it. The general idea here is to teach us to master the finish of the stroke; that is, to teach us where the stroke should end—in other words, embedded an inch or so in our opponent's forehead. Again, eyes locked on one another's, not watching your shinai, not watching their shinai, but straight ahead, our gaze focussed on our oppoenent's gaze. And away we go. Firstly against one instructor, then another, where everyone else is chopping away at fellow students. See, now I get more feedback from the professionals; indeed, two professionals. Like having a private tutor. Yeah, I'm a fucking dork.
The last act of the play this time round involved a little introduction to the kiai. We all know what it is, we've just never heard the word. Ki means spirit (as in genki, meaning health) and ai means yell. So it's the spirit yell. But we all know it as those strange screams Bruce Lee, or any other martial artist, does. It is meant to capture and concentrate the spirit, thereby focussing the manoeuvre you're trying to execute. It's got other physiological purposes too, but I haven't sussed them fully—along the lines of reticulating one's breathing and stuff. This is the reason behind the "ichi... ni... san... shi..." business we constantly have to recite. Though most of the class are moderately to very shit at the shouting bit. I mean, come on guys, it's not that fucking hard. All it takes is a teensy-weensy bit o' courage, that bit that will override the embarrassment of losing count and shouting out 'ichi' when you've already completed your 30 or whatever reps.
What did I tell you, I'm a mature-aged student. We are all fucking nerds.
There was a fitting little addendum to the nerd action this night however. Put your hand up those of you who came in late. Sure enough it's about half the class. 100 extra star jumps please. 60 extra calf raises. You won't be doing that again, now will ya?
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