Many of you who stop by to read my blog may not be aware that I am a target archer first and foremost. Kyudo practice as taught by Shibata Sensei is what I use to keep myself grounded and settled. It, along with seated meditation, form the basis of my spiritual life. I belong to a small group of people who also engage in archery as a sport and use Kyudo for the same reasons as I do. We do not have a "shooting place" specific to Kyudo so we use the indoor archery range operated by local archery club for our practice.
Last night we gathered together as is our custom for our monthly practice and it is always a special occasion for me as I get to be with my local Kyudo family for both practice and fellowship. Last night was more of a sombre occasion because, as I had announced in my blog post last week, our Sensei had passed away. Since we have no one in our group who could lead us in the Buddhist memorial ceremony as is the custom, we chose to mark Sensei's passing in the only way we knew how.
About 30 years ago, National Geographic produced a series on the martial arts and one of the documentaries in that series was about Kyudo and featured Sensei when he was much younger and still healthy and vibrant. It is a video that has been played at every single Beginner's Intensive that has ever taken place here in Edmonton. It really hits home the thought that Kyudo is a form of moving meditation, that with regular and long practice, it will remove all of our rough edges and bring out true human dignity. The video showed Sensei working with new students one-on-one. It was almost like he was there with us.
I often find myself in more of a stoic mood during practice but last night was different. During a couple of shots I was able to achieve a 3/4 rotation of the yumi in my bow hand upon release of the arrow and those two instances, it was like the world had slowed down to a crawl. It was though I was watching in slow motion as the yumi rotated in my hand and the arrow flexed and rotated toward the target. I was an instant emotional mess and had to fight hard to choke back the tears.
I'm not certain where this flood of emotion had come from. Was it Sensei's passing? Was it joy from nearly achieving perfection of "tiger's mouth"? Was it the stress I was dealing with in both my personal and professional lives? Was it all these things hitting me at once? I suspect that it was the latter.
Last night we also added a couple of new members to our Kyudo family. First, a gentleman named Charles who moved to Edmonton from Nova Scotia and practiced there with Kozan Iba. Welcome, Charles. The second, a tiny little field mouse who has decided to take up residence in the range. We will set up a live trap to catch and release him back outside but for now, we have named him Kanjuro - after Sensei.
When we had finished our practice, put the yumi and ya away, and tidied up we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways knowing that we will see each other again soon. Its hard to say farewell to Sensei having not really met him in person. I'm sure though that we will have that chance in the next life.
So good journey, Sensei and thank you for all that you have taught.
One Arrow, One Life
The term "one arrow, one life" is a kyudo expression. When archery was used in warfare, the meaning was literal. However, in the practice of modern kyudo, it is now metaphorical with each flight of an arrow representing the human life cycle from begining to end. Join me on my journey as a competitive archer and Kyudoka. May our arrows fly true because they are a reflection on our souls.

Thursday, 31 October 2013
Tuesday, 22 October 2013
Kanjuro Shibata Sensei XX Passes Away at 92
On-yumishi Kanjuro Shibata XX
1921 - 2013
One is not polishing one's shooting style or technique, but the mind. The dignity of shooting is the important point. This is how Kyudo differs from the common approach to archery. In Kyudo there is no hope. Hope is not the point. The point is that through long and genuine practice your natural dignity as a human being comes out. This natural dignity is already in you, but it is covered up by a lot of obstacles. When they are cleared away, your natural dignity is allowed to shine forth.
— Kanjuro Shibata
I was saddened to learn this morning that our Sensei Kanjuro Shibata XX had quietly passed away in his home with his wife at his side. His widow's message to Sensei's students was just as poignant and dignified as the man himself. I never had the pleasure to meet Sensei and receive instruction from him directly but I have read his writings and through the magic of the internet and YouTube, I was able to know Sensei as a man who lived his life as an example to all of his students.
While part of me is saddened with Sensei's passing and the thought of never getting to learn from him directly, another part of me cannot help but feel a sense of gladness because Sensei did get to live the life he chose and that he had a long life surrounded by people who wanted to make the world a better place by "polishing their hearts" and become better, dignified people. I also feel a sense of relief knowing that Sensei no longer has to suffer from the constant struggle to breathe.
Rest in Peace, Sensei. You will always be in our hearts and your spirit will be with us as we engage in practice together across the globe, continuing along the path to enlightenment and true warriorship.
Thursday, 1 August 2013
On Humility and Leading Kyudo Practice
In preparation for his absence from this month's practise, our senior kyudoka and "teacher" had asked me to lead the practise in his place. Initially, I was honoured to be considered for this task but as we started our pre-practise meditation, the seriousness of the request had hit me. Up to this point, I had been practising Kyudo for only 2 1/2 years and yet, here I was leading the practise. My actions and how I would approach this privilege would set the tone for the practise and since part of this included helping the new practitioners with the hassetsu and their shooting form, more specifically "tiger's mouth," I became really conscious of the flaws with my own shooting form.
Leading the practise was a challenge because, not only did I realise that I was probably not the person to be doing it, one of the beginners brought along a couple of friends to observe the practise. Human nature will often cause our egos to over inflate in these situations and so care needed to be taken to ensure that it didn't "go to my head." My actions, reactions, inaction, and attitude not only would reflect poorly on me but most importantly reflect poorly on others who choose to practise the "way of the bow," and Shibata Sensei, and Kyudo itself.
Our sensei, Kanjuro Shibata XX described the purpose of Kyudo by stating that "the main point of kyudo practise is to polish your heart, deeply." Reflecting on this and recognising that I had to suppress any and all thoughts of self-importance in order for the practise to proceed in a dignified manner, I truly believe that I learnt a good lesson. Leading in this kind of setting is not about power or status but about service. It was about what I could do to help our junior practitioners improve their practise.
It's this thought about service to others that is most profound. Kyudo practise is a metaphor for life. I have often heard of kyudo described as "one shot archery" and really kyudo is a reflection of life because we only get one shot at it. The question is this: how do we want to approach that "one shot?" Do we want to live our lives in a dignified manner, experiencing the joy of giving to others or do we want to be self-centred and live our lives haphazardly with no consideration for our fellow human beings? It's a big question that requires some consideration.
Leading the practise was a challenge because, not only did I realise that I was probably not the person to be doing it, one of the beginners brought along a couple of friends to observe the practise. Human nature will often cause our egos to over inflate in these situations and so care needed to be taken to ensure that it didn't "go to my head." My actions, reactions, inaction, and attitude not only would reflect poorly on me but most importantly reflect poorly on others who choose to practise the "way of the bow," and Shibata Sensei, and Kyudo itself.
Our sensei, Kanjuro Shibata XX described the purpose of Kyudo by stating that "the main point of kyudo practise is to polish your heart, deeply." Reflecting on this and recognising that I had to suppress any and all thoughts of self-importance in order for the practise to proceed in a dignified manner, I truly believe that I learnt a good lesson. Leading in this kind of setting is not about power or status but about service. It was about what I could do to help our junior practitioners improve their practise.
It's this thought about service to others that is most profound. Kyudo practise is a metaphor for life. I have often heard of kyudo described as "one shot archery" and really kyudo is a reflection of life because we only get one shot at it. The question is this: how do we want to approach that "one shot?" Do we want to live our lives in a dignified manner, experiencing the joy of giving to others or do we want to be self-centred and live our lives haphazardly with no consideration for our fellow human beings? It's a big question that requires some consideration.
Wednesday, 5 June 2013
Remembering My "First Shot"
A couple of weekends ago I had the opportunity to engage in some fellowship and Kyudo practice with such a diverse group of students this past Sunday afternoon at our spring Beginner's Intensive. People came from as far away as Calgary, Vegreville, and Elk Point to learn about zen archery and perhaps experience their "first shot," each of them with a varied background. We were blessed to have amongst us a competitive Western archer, a couple of university students, martial arts practitioners, and a twelve year-old boy. It was a joy to meet and shoot with all of them that afternoon and to learn about piqued their interest in this ancient and dignified form of meditation. It was also a time for me to receive some instruction from our little group's sensei, John Mills and to refine my practice event further.
About half way through the afternoon session, we took a break and listened to some select readings from various books on Kyudo, including One Arrow, One Life, the book that inspired the title of this blog. Out of those readings came the question, "How did you feel when you made your first shot?" Some of the answers were quite surprising.
One of the new students had stated that, although he had indeed carried out his first shot, he had felt that he in actuality did not. I was a bit puzzled by that comment; however, delving into it a bit further I came to realize that people obviously came to the Beginner's Intensive with varying expectations. While, I am not surprised that about 60% of those in attendance had come into the sessions with experience in the fighting arts. I am not certain if that had any bearing on his comment but I suspect that it did.
One of the young ladies who had been with us during the "First Shot" course was, I believe, a practicing Buddhist and with her she had brought with her not only her experiences from the fighting art Akido but from her mediation practice also. Her reaction was different in that she reported an overwhelming sense of openness and joy upon her first shot and that the feeling had moved her to tears. This young lady and her friend joined us at our "official" practice the following Friday and it was a pleasure to watch them both as they continued on and joined us on our path.
This discussion caused me to reflect on my own "first shot" experience and it surprised me a bit. You see, prior to attending the Beginner's Intensive nearly two years ago, I had some previous experience with Kyudo, albeit as a casual observer. I had read Zen in the Art of Archery and had watched some of my fellow Kyudoka during kyudo demonstrations at club special events and open houses and so, I entered the Beginner's Intensive with some pre-conceived ideas as well. I think the biggest one was mushin and how the archer is supposed to empty his mind and not "think" as he is executing the shot. While this may be true where kyudo is practiced as a sport or martial art, it is not true where it is practiced as a form of meditation.
Rather than surprise or elation, my reaction to my first shot was indifference. To me, the experience was neither exciting or boring. It just "was." I remember in my mind after hearing and seeing my ya hitting the back stop thinking, "huh." It wasn't a surprised "huh" or an negative "huh," just "huh." I've tried to analyze this moment over the past couple of years but at this point, I've decided to give up trying to understand my indifference. It is what it is and just like the thoughts we may have during sitting or walking meditation practice, I need to accept it for what it is and then let it go.
About half way through the afternoon session, we took a break and listened to some select readings from various books on Kyudo, including One Arrow, One Life, the book that inspired the title of this blog. Out of those readings came the question, "How did you feel when you made your first shot?" Some of the answers were quite surprising.
One of the new students had stated that, although he had indeed carried out his first shot, he had felt that he in actuality did not. I was a bit puzzled by that comment; however, delving into it a bit further I came to realize that people obviously came to the Beginner's Intensive with varying expectations. While, I am not surprised that about 60% of those in attendance had come into the sessions with experience in the fighting arts. I am not certain if that had any bearing on his comment but I suspect that it did.
One of the young ladies who had been with us during the "First Shot" course was, I believe, a practicing Buddhist and with her she had brought with her not only her experiences from the fighting art Akido but from her mediation practice also. Her reaction was different in that she reported an overwhelming sense of openness and joy upon her first shot and that the feeling had moved her to tears. This young lady and her friend joined us at our "official" practice the following Friday and it was a pleasure to watch them both as they continued on and joined us on our path.
This discussion caused me to reflect on my own "first shot" experience and it surprised me a bit. You see, prior to attending the Beginner's Intensive nearly two years ago, I had some previous experience with Kyudo, albeit as a casual observer. I had read Zen in the Art of Archery and had watched some of my fellow Kyudoka during kyudo demonstrations at club special events and open houses and so, I entered the Beginner's Intensive with some pre-conceived ideas as well. I think the biggest one was mushin and how the archer is supposed to empty his mind and not "think" as he is executing the shot. While this may be true where kyudo is practiced as a sport or martial art, it is not true where it is practiced as a form of meditation.
Rather than surprise or elation, my reaction to my first shot was indifference. To me, the experience was neither exciting or boring. It just "was." I remember in my mind after hearing and seeing my ya hitting the back stop thinking, "huh." It wasn't a surprised "huh" or an negative "huh," just "huh." I've tried to analyze this moment over the past couple of years but at this point, I've decided to give up trying to understand my indifference. It is what it is and just like the thoughts we may have during sitting or walking meditation practice, I need to accept it for what it is and then let it go.
Wednesday, 1 May 2013
Kyudo as a Form of Meditation
Its been nearly 7 months since my last blog post and I was quickly reminded of that this weekend as I was preparing the minutes for the last meeting of the board of directors of the archery club I belong to. We were planning to do a general clean-up of our indoor shooting range on the last Sunday of the month and I realized that that was not achievable as we were hosting a Kyudo Beginner's Intensive course at the range that weekend. Naturally, that got me to reflect on my recent Kyudo practice earlier that week.
The practice of Kyudo is most often associated by the majority as simply a martial art. Despite the fact that this majority will vehemently disagree with what I have to say here, I am going to come out and say it. No. Kyudo is not a martial art or a sport as defined by organizations such as the International Kyudo Federation.
At one point in time the practice of archery in Japan was known as kyujitsu and simply put, it was a skill used by samurai to fire projectiles at their enemies during combat. However, the introduction of firearms and the extended time of peace during the Edo period allowed for archery to be pursued as an "art" with the purpose of spiritual development by building up both body and mind. As a result, the skill of warfare was refined to include very prescribed, almost ritualistic, movements or hassetsu designed to focus the archer's attention on the now.
This focus on the "now" dovetails itself really well into Buddhist meditation practices. I find it interesting that people who subscribe to Shambhala buddhism often refer to meditation as "nowness training." This spiritual connection should not be new to the reader if you have done any reading on the subject of Kyudo. Zen in the Art of Archery; One Arrow, One Life; and Kyudo: The Art of Zen Archery all speak to the role of kyudo in Zen Buddhism. A common denominator in all of these books is the role that kyudo has in meditation and vice versa.
This takes me to my last practice session and how important kyudo is as a form of "nowness training" or meditation. Last week was probably one of the worst weeks I have experienced in my life as an adult. At least that's what it felt like as I am sure that I have had far worse. Conflicts at home with my wife and having received an unwarranted written reprimand at work, a lot of things were weighing heavily on my mind. So, needless to say, I needed to head down to our little "dojo" (it's not really a dojo. Its an indoor archery range we use for kyudo practice) for our scheduled practice to press the reset button mentally.
Due to unforseen circumstances, I was the only one at kyudo practice that evening and had the opportunity to really void myself of my thoughts by focusing on the coordinations and on the now. What I learned that practice is that I am weak with respect to my meditation practice. I could not focus enough to even remember the correct sequence of the hassetsu and found myself either skipping steps or doing them in the incorrect order. The lesson I learned that evening was that I need to include meditation practice in my life more frequently instead of relying on it when I need to "clear" my head.
The practice of Kyudo is most often associated by the majority as simply a martial art. Despite the fact that this majority will vehemently disagree with what I have to say here, I am going to come out and say it. No. Kyudo is not a martial art or a sport as defined by organizations such as the International Kyudo Federation.
At one point in time the practice of archery in Japan was known as kyujitsu and simply put, it was a skill used by samurai to fire projectiles at their enemies during combat. However, the introduction of firearms and the extended time of peace during the Edo period allowed for archery to be pursued as an "art" with the purpose of spiritual development by building up both body and mind. As a result, the skill of warfare was refined to include very prescribed, almost ritualistic, movements or hassetsu designed to focus the archer's attention on the now.
This focus on the "now" dovetails itself really well into Buddhist meditation practices. I find it interesting that people who subscribe to Shambhala buddhism often refer to meditation as "nowness training." This spiritual connection should not be new to the reader if you have done any reading on the subject of Kyudo. Zen in the Art of Archery; One Arrow, One Life; and Kyudo: The Art of Zen Archery all speak to the role of kyudo in Zen Buddhism. A common denominator in all of these books is the role that kyudo has in meditation and vice versa.
This takes me to my last practice session and how important kyudo is as a form of "nowness training" or meditation. Last week was probably one of the worst weeks I have experienced in my life as an adult. At least that's what it felt like as I am sure that I have had far worse. Conflicts at home with my wife and having received an unwarranted written reprimand at work, a lot of things were weighing heavily on my mind. So, needless to say, I needed to head down to our little "dojo" (it's not really a dojo. Its an indoor archery range we use for kyudo practice) for our scheduled practice to press the reset button mentally.
Due to unforseen circumstances, I was the only one at kyudo practice that evening and had the opportunity to really void myself of my thoughts by focusing on the coordinations and on the now. What I learned that practice is that I am weak with respect to my meditation practice. I could not focus enough to even remember the correct sequence of the hassetsu and found myself either skipping steps or doing them in the incorrect order. The lesson I learned that evening was that I need to include meditation practice in my life more frequently instead of relying on it when I need to "clear" my head.
Friday, 5 October 2012
Shambhala Teachings and the Connection to Kyudo
Some time ago, I had a discussion with the gentleman who brought Kyudo to our archery club about a conversation he had had with the instructor we fly in from Halifax and I was told that there is a very good possibility that our little Kyudo group may be finally designated as a dojo by Kanjuro Shibata Sensei XX provided that one or two of us start on the path of becoming approved as instructors by Shibata Sensei. One of the requirements to accomplish this would be for those individuals to start making closer ties to Shambhala International and the teachings of Shambhala Buddhism. While it is somewhat presumpuous of me to even consider becoming an "instructor," I saw this as an opportunity to learn more about Sensei's beliefs, beliefs that are fundamental to his own teachings and the practice of Kyudo as a form of moving meditation.
So, last weekend I spent Friday evening and all of Saturday attending a workshop called Shambhala Training Level 1: The Art of Being Human at our local Shambhala Centre. The topic of the discourse Friday evening was a topic that I obsessed over that weekend and that was "basic goodness." The central theme of this fundamental Shambhala teaching was that, despite whatever evil an individual may have committed or is capable of committing, that that individual also has within him or her basic goodness. I obsessed over this idea when faced with my own past and the internal demons that I must conquer given the physical, mental, and sexual abuse I suffered at the hands of my mother and step-father and the things I have witnessed in war zones. One of the people present to assist the teacher had used the example of the lion to express this concept. A lion's instinct is to kill for the survival of itself and its offspring and there have been documented cases of lions who have killed merely for sport; however, to view a lion with its cubs illustrates an inherent goodness. The "art of being human" requires that we recognize that everyone we deal with in life has basic goodness and should be treated as such.
The Saturday session consisted of teachings respecting human relationships interwoven with meditation practice. We learned that the purpose of meditation is not to clear the mind but to focus on the "now" and as such the term "meditation practice" was interchanged with the expression "nowness practice." We learned that it is OK or acceptable to have thoughts during meditation and that meditation is a way for us to identify and sort out the dark corners of the mind - not to change them, but to acknowledge that they exist and to let them go. This concept now has me obsessing over the concept of mushin.
Mushin is often translated as "no mind" and is often used in connection with the practice of ways - Kendo, Karate-do, and of course, Kyudo. So, if it is acceptable to be contemplative or engage in random thought during Kyudo as a form of meditative practice, how do we achieve mushin? Good question that one day I hope to answer.
Soon, I will be marking the first anniversary of the begining of my Kyudo practice and no doubt, based on what I have learned laste weekend, I have a lifetime of learning to do.
So, last weekend I spent Friday evening and all of Saturday attending a workshop called Shambhala Training Level 1: The Art of Being Human at our local Shambhala Centre. The topic of the discourse Friday evening was a topic that I obsessed over that weekend and that was "basic goodness." The central theme of this fundamental Shambhala teaching was that, despite whatever evil an individual may have committed or is capable of committing, that that individual also has within him or her basic goodness. I obsessed over this idea when faced with my own past and the internal demons that I must conquer given the physical, mental, and sexual abuse I suffered at the hands of my mother and step-father and the things I have witnessed in war zones. One of the people present to assist the teacher had used the example of the lion to express this concept. A lion's instinct is to kill for the survival of itself and its offspring and there have been documented cases of lions who have killed merely for sport; however, to view a lion with its cubs illustrates an inherent goodness. The "art of being human" requires that we recognize that everyone we deal with in life has basic goodness and should be treated as such.
The Saturday session consisted of teachings respecting human relationships interwoven with meditation practice. We learned that the purpose of meditation is not to clear the mind but to focus on the "now" and as such the term "meditation practice" was interchanged with the expression "nowness practice." We learned that it is OK or acceptable to have thoughts during meditation and that meditation is a way for us to identify and sort out the dark corners of the mind - not to change them, but to acknowledge that they exist and to let them go. This concept now has me obsessing over the concept of mushin.
Mushin is often translated as "no mind" and is often used in connection with the practice of ways - Kendo, Karate-do, and of course, Kyudo. So, if it is acceptable to be contemplative or engage in random thought during Kyudo as a form of meditative practice, how do we achieve mushin? Good question that one day I hope to answer.
Soon, I will be marking the first anniversary of the begining of my Kyudo practice and no doubt, based on what I have learned laste weekend, I have a lifetime of learning to do.
Friday, 20 July 2012
Archery Expressed in Haiku
Haiku is a major form of Japanese verse that often evokes allusion and comparisons, often to things in nature. With the natural beauty of both Kyudo and western-based archery, I thought that I should seek out such an expression of what archery means to me. In my search, I found one such expression made by fellow archer and blogger Zach Robinson. Zach's expression resonnated with me as I think of Sensei's words. He likened the yumi to a "great teacher" and in this I believe that when engaged in archery practice, we learn to focus inward. In our struggle for perfection, we cannot help but discover the flaws within ourselves.
"The weight of bow, string
balance and beauty within
an instrument, tool"
- Zack Robinson
While I am not certain if Zack practices Kyudo but he definately is an archer as such has gained an understanding of archery as an intrument to help us achieve balance and inner beauty. Of course, I could be completely wrong and totally out of touch with the true meaning of his Haiku. However, given the medium of his expression, I certainly thought he was drawing this link between archery and self development and self improvement.
As I get older, I am find myself engaged in more self reflection and most certainly my Kyudo practice affords me that opportunity to look inward.
While I am not certain if Zack practices Kyudo but he definately is an archer as such has gained an understanding of archery as an intrument to help us achieve balance and inner beauty. Of course, I could be completely wrong and totally out of touch with the true meaning of his Haiku. However, given the medium of his expression, I certainly thought he was drawing this link between archery and self development and self improvement.
As I get older, I am find myself engaged in more self reflection and most certainly my Kyudo practice affords me that opportunity to look inward.
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