In 2004, while visiting the Dewa Sanzan (出羽三山) area of Yamagata Prefecture — including Gassan Dai Jinja (月山大神社) on Mt. Haguro and Haguro-san Kōtakuji Shōzenin Kogane-do in Haguro-machi — I decided to commit my full efforts towards learning classical and traditional arts.
Much of my earlier writing on Inner Dharma was concerned with that specific transition: shifting toward the cultivation of internal skill. As I learned more of Bāguà, Xíngyì, and Tàijí, I reflected on the relationships between the concept of aiki and traditional internal martial arts training. I also began learning classical weapons arts from China and Japan around the same time.
Chief among these was the line of Kashima-shinden Jiki Shinkage-ryū maintained at the Hōbyōkan (opens in a new tab) following the teachings of Namiki Yasushi and Itō Masayuki. Inner Dharma served as a place where I could write down my thoughts, contrasting older arts like Shintō-ryū and Shinkage-ryū, and examining how older methods of martial practice have evolved over time.
Since moving to Seattle, I continued traditional katageiko, conducted analyses of kata in a process called kuzushi, and performed combative pressure testing called tameshi-ai.
In doing this, my practice became increasingly influenced by my continued study of internal martial arts. One challenge I faced was in deciding exactly what to preserve from my training. Over time, I incorporated free-practice into my kenjutsu and attempted to bring the insights I had obtained through internal martial arts into the sword, and the defining aspect of my kenpō (劍法) became the integration of these internal principles.
I evolved my practice to constrain my expression of kiai to be more akin to the vocalizations found in internal martial arts: flowing from, or aligned with, a movement, rather than driving it. I no longer forcefully coordinate breathing with each movement. Instead, I keep my breathing relaxed and steady, utilizing sophisticated reverse breathing methods from Tàijíquán rather than the ibuki style often used during traditional aun kokyu.
My emphasis is placed on developing a connected body that integrates force with each action in an optimal manner, remaining relaxed and able to adapt suddenly when needed. I practice this kenpō as part of the cultivation of shugyō (修行) — mindful austerity. Doing so, I emphasize Daoist aspects of the art, including complementarity (yin and yang) and five element theory, drawing inspiration from Shugendō.
Almost twenty years after this project began in Dewa, I spent time visiting Kyoto and Nara. I visited the seat of Honzan-ha Shugendō not far from the Kyoto Budōkan (the site of the Meiji-era Butokukan), the shrines and temples at Kuramadera associated with historical figures such as Yoshitsune and Kiichi Hōgen, and the Tōdaiji in Nara. Doing so, I thought deeply about my continued martial practice.
I came to the realization that I needed to focus on continuing to develop my skill at traditional internal martial arts, rather than attempting to normalize my Japanese swordsmanship with other lines of practice. When I practice the kata of Jiki Shinkage-ryū, I do so in a manner compatible with my continued internal martial arts practice. This is a personal practice, not a new line of transmission.
After the death of Itō Masayuki, the Tokyo Hōjōkai split — the two sons of Namiki Yasushi began their own school, the Kuunkai, named after Kawashima Takashi and Ōnishi Hidetaka. That is the closest group in terms of technical content to my current practice and I hope to connect with that line of practice the next time I am in Japan.
In the meantime, while I think I still attempt to cultivate the spirit of Shinkage-ryū in my kenpō, I am taking a more withdrawn approach to my study. I am reminded that the final level of practice of Jiki Shinkage-ryū, called marobashi or marubashi (丸橋), is silent. It is time for me to embrace that silence as a path.
The phrase hyakuren jitoku (百錬自得) means that through a great deal of practice you can better understand yourself. I am grateful for the opportunity to know myself a little better for having trained. I am grateful both for the chance to have worked with several people as my understanding has evolved, and for my conversations with experts in the field. I am better for those interactions.
Over time, I more strongly feel that each person needs to walk their own path and come to their own decisions about where and how best to train. Looking out from the veranda of the Nigatsu-do, above Tōdaiji in Nara, I came to the realization that I had completed the journey that started in Dewa twenty some odd years ago.
My students continue formal Jiki Shinkage-ryū katageiko (opens in a new tab) in the manner I taught them, which is representative of the practice maintained at the Hōbyōkan in the line of Namiki Yasushi and Itō Masayuki.
After the death of my kenjutsu instructor, I continue to practice kenjutsu as a personal form of misogi and shugyō. I continue to research these arts based on historical information — I hope that research is a strong testament to his legacy.
