WHAT
KUMDO MEANS TO ME
It is not
difficult for me to explain, precisely, what Kumdo and the achievement of
chodan means to me. First, it says to me that I have been privileged to study
with special teachers who have enabled me to reach the first significant Kumdo
milestone. Secondly, it reinforces the
understanding that I have been fortunate to have classmates who were patient
enough to train with me despite my awkwardness and lack of skill. And lastly, it has changed my life by giving
a new structure and purpose to my very existence. Kumdo has become part of the fabric of my
person and I can¡¯t imagine what my life would be without it being part of my
routine.
When I began my Kumdo journey I was not sure that I
could physically do what would be asked of me.
I knew that I possessed the willingness and the determination to learn,
but I was concerned that my body was less supple than my mind. It soon became
clear that my fear was well founded. The
Kumdo being taught to my classmates would have been more than I could sustain,
but my study did not come to an abrupt end.
Instead, Master Seong conceived of a way for me to find a place in Kumdo
(be it somewhat apart from the others).
Approximately
three months into my Kumdo journey, Master Seong, without comment, took away my
39 Jukdo and returned with a 37 and a much shorter sword. He stood in an unfamiliar stance and did a
few moves holding one sword in each hand.
I could sense that he truly believed that I could learn what he was
showing me, and I was flattered that he was willing to teach me. When Sabumnin handed me the two swords,
he said ¡°you will learn¡±. It was clear he wasn¡¯t asking me to try, he
was telling me that I could, and would, learn the two sword technique. But more important, he made me believe that I
could do it, despite the fact that I was still so new to Kumdo that my feet
were blistered and never seemed to heal.
Over the
last two years I have begun to realize how privileged I am to be able to study
at Sung Moo Kwan and to learn from Master Seong. The fact that I am three times
older than most students and limited in what my body will allow me to do - is
of no moment. Success in competition has
allowed me to appreciate that I have been given the skills to perform, if I am
willing to work to hone them. Sabumnim
challenges me, each class, to do more than I think I can do and I have
endeavored to never let him down.
Although, I have never said it to him, I think that he knows that I
would rather drop from exhaustion than disappoint him. I may not have done 1000 perfect quick step
at the chodan grading, but I did them from the instant everyone started to the
final ¡°muhri¡±.
I have had
to attend many more classes than my fellow students to reach the modest
achievement of chodan. I surmise that I have read more Kendo books and
articles than any of my Kumdo peers. I
am not likely to get faster or stronger, but, I can get smarter.
I am not only grateful for the attention of Sabumnim, but to my
classmates (most of whom are younger than my children) who have accepted me and
allowed me to be part of their world.
For that, I am humbled and most appreciative.
Kumdo class is the highlight of my week. The realization that I have found a place
where I am welcome and where I can challenge myself to learn new things about
Kumdo and myself, is the essence of what Kumdo means to me. I don't know that I will ever have the skill
to teach Kumdo to others, but I could surely convey that with Sabumnim¡¯s
guidance and a willingness to work, significant achievement is possible
regardless of how athletic you may (or may not) be. Showing up for class and giving all that you
have - is what is required. From my
perspective, I owe Sabumnim and my classmates, nothing less than my best effort. Applying the same approach to the rest of
life is assured to meet with the same result.
What
Kumdo Means to Me
by
Joey Lynn Monaco
In
the summer of 2001, in the dwindling days of American innocence, I held my
first real samurai sword. Forged in the 1500s, it was as sharp and beautiful as
a new blade, thanks to the meticulous care of my friend Fred. Although Fred was
born inShanghai, he spent most of his life inJapan, and his
two great loves were his Japanese wife and his collection of Japanese swords. When
Fred handed me his 500 year old blade, I was amazed that he trusted me with
something so valuable, without hesitation. As I began to associate with more
swordsmen, swordswomen and sword enthusiasts, I came to understand that the
love of the sword binds people in deeper ways than more run-of-the-mill
hobbies.
Two
years before meeting Fred, I had traveled toJapan. One of my favorite places was
the temple at Sengakuji, where the 47 Ronin rest. The 47 Ronin were samurai who
defied the letter of the law in order to fulfill what they considered to be a
higher duty. Even though it ultimately cost them their lives, the 47 Ronin
acted on conscience. To me, the sword was a symbol of the resolve and high
principles that I¡¯ve always admired in swordsmen. Burning incense at the graves
of the 47 Ronin was a turning point for me, and when I met Fred, and he shared
his sword collection, it was another step down the path. Fred introduced me to
my first sword show. Sword enthusiasts gather each year to participate in
panels and educational sessions, view historically significant swords and buy
and sell swords and fittings.
Fred
also shared a video that was filmed inside the workshop of one ofJapan¡¯s
remaining traditional swordsmiths. The video showed in detail how swords are
forged, from the selection of the metal to the polishing process. The forging
of a sword holds many parallels to the forging of a sword practitioner. Just as
the swordsmith chooses the pieces of metal with the best potential, when we
train we nurture the best parts of ourselves. The swordsmith works the metal
over and over again until he has released its impurities. I¡¯ve heard it said
that there are no swordsmen with bad character, because they either quit or
their character improves. When I train, I feel as though, by repetition, I
confront my own weaknesses and reshape them. If you¡¯re going to dedicate yourself
to sword, you must accept that the repetition and refinement of technique are
never finished, and surrendering any ideas of mastery or perfection is a
necessary step to making any progress at all. You have to learn to trust the effort.
This
is another key lesson I¡¯ve taken away from my sword practice – learning to
trust, especially to trust myself. As a beginner, I watched more advanced
students practice complicated sword forms, and I thought to myself, there¡¯s no
way I¡¯m going to be able to swing the sword that way without hurting myself or
someone else. Like many beginners, I held my sword in a virtual death grip
because that¡¯s the only way I thought I could maintain control. Slowly and
patiently my teachers encouraged me to ease my grip, and to trust that I had
the skills to keep control without trying so hard. I still have my ¡°death grip
days,¡± but overall I¡¯ve internalized this lesson not only in the dojang but in
the outside world. At the time that I began practicing the sword, I felt that
my life and career were becoming more challenging, and I found myself
struggling for control. I¡¯ve come to understand that I can¡¯t control every
situation as tightly as I might like, but that doesn¡¯t mean that I can¡¯t
succeed. I trust myself to read the signals of the people around me and respond
appropriately. Naturally, this is a belief that will take endless repetitions to fully master.
Kumdo
means much more to me than the physical practice of swordsmanship. It means
participating in an ancient, honorable tradition which strengthens the mind as
well as the body. Every time I practice, I learn a little more about patience,
strength and faith. I feel supported by a community not only of my classmates
but of all who have come before. Kumdo increases my confidence, my self-respect
and my physical, mental and spiritual well-being. Now that I¡¯ve come this far,
I can¡¯t imagine my life without it. My friends have told me that kumdo has
changed me, in the best possible ways. Kumdo is helping me to become the person
I would like to be.
Confronting
the Adversaries of Heijoshin
by
Joey Lynn Monaco
According
to Masayuki Shimabukuro, heijoshin refers to an abiding peaceful mind, or a
constant peaceful spirit. I had never heard of heijoshin before writing this
essay. At the same time that I started researching heijoshin, however, a friend
loaned me an audio book – Blink by
Malcolm Gladwell. In Blink, Gladwell
describes the benefits of what psychologists call ¡°rapid cognition.¡± Gladwell
analyzes the instantaneous reactions that take place in our subconscious minds
before our conscious minds can name those reactions. Gladwell argues that the
division of the conscious and subconscious minds is very important to human
beings, because our conscious mind tends to overprocess and move very slowly.
In a life or death situation, for example, letting the conscious mind dictate
our actions could be fatal. The unconscious mind is better at making
split-second decisions, and frees up our conscious minds for tasks that require
more deliberation. Gladwell could easily be describing a mind in the state of
heijoshin verses on that is not.
While
Gladwell never mentions heijoshin or martial arts at all in his book, I think
he would recognize how heijoshin fits into the framework of rapid cognition.
Heijoshin seems to be deeply aligned with the unconscious mind – the mind that
is receptive to the signals of the world around it. Gladwell says that one
function of the unconscious is to ascertain the motives of those around us and determine
their intentions, and if they pose a threat. When I¡¯m sparring against someone
who¡¯s really good, I feel almost as thought that person can read my mind and
know where I¡¯m going to strike almost before I do. That person, by inhabiting a
state of heijoshin, is in touch with the unconscious, the pure part of the mind
that can act without the burden of overprocessing.
When
I¡¯m fighting someone who seems to be able to predict my movements
instantaneously, I recognize that I am clouding my own access to heijoshin with
the overprocessing of my conscious mind. I think that the main adversaries of
heijoshin are fear and desire, which are really two manifestations of the same
idea – expectation. While the unconscious mind in the state of heijoshin sees
what is and reacts accordingly, the
conscious mind attaches what it wishes
or expects to what is. Expectations impede the ability to
act, and as I¡¯ve faced both fear and desire in my own practice, I¡¯ve struggled
to perform as well as I¡¯m capable of. By peeling away the layers of
expectations – both fear and desire – I feel as though I¡¯ve come closer to
heijoshin, though I have a long way to go. Kumdo has helped me to put the
expectations of the conscious mind to rest, and not just inside the dojang. I
take every lesson I learn in training back to my daily life. It¡¯s been a long
process, and sometimes I feel as though I lose ground. But overall I feel as
though I¡¯ve been able to take away the noise of the past, and to learn to
return to the more natural, unburdened state of the unconscious mind.
Fear
is sometimes called the mind killer, because once it takes root in the mind, your
mind replays the worst case scenario, over and over again. If you let it, fear
can paralyze you to the point where it¡¯s easier to walk away than act. When I
began to practice, I confronted escalating levels of fear. For the last few
years I¡¯ve been experiencing foot pain. About two years ago, I had to have a
series of painful shots in my foot because of a nerve irritation. When I first
made the appointment to try kumdo, I had forgotten that I would have to be
barefoot. When I remembered that, I was afraid I wouldn¡¯t be able to make it
through a whole class. Had I let that fear overwhelm me, I might never have
known what a powerful experience kumdo would be in my life. Because I was open
to trying I started taking classes, but another fear soon took its place. I
wasn¡¯t prepared for the terrible blisters I would get on the bottoms of my
feet. I remember one blister in particular that really frightened me. My father
is a diabetic, and year after year I watched him struggle with blisters on his
feet that wouldn¡¯t heal. In fact, he lost a toe because of an infected blister.
Before I saw that particularly ugly blister on my foot, I didn¡¯t realize the
deep, unsettling level of fear that his health issues had burned into me. I
don¡¯t have diabetes, but because of my family history, the fear has always been
with me that I would develop it. Had I let that
fear overwhelm me, I might have quit and, again, never known the powerful
impact that kumdo has had on my life.
But
fear wasn¡¯t done with me yet. Eventually I put on armor and started sparring. I
had severely underestimated how intimidating it would be to have a man in a
mask charge at me waving a big stick. I¡¯ve been in a few physically
intimidating situations in my past, and sparring seemed to take me back to a
time I felt powerless, like some sort of Technicolor post-traumatic stress
nightmare. I really thought that was the end of my all too brief kumdo career.
Why didn¡¯t I quit? Only because my desire to stay outweighed my fear – but more
about desire later.
A
wise friend once said that our fears are like dragons at the gates of our
minds. They try to keep us tied to our old lives, instead of venturing out to
see what else the world holds for us. She said that if we hold our ground, they
usually prove to be less fierce than we expected. Even though she wouldn¡¯t have
identified it as such, I think she was talking about a form of heijoshin – the
ability to stand calm in front of our fears so we can see past them to how
things really are. Taking her words to heart, I tried to neutralize my fears
with the truth. I told myself that my body knew how to heal itself, and that my
classmates cared about me as a person and were helping me to become stronger.
Being able to see beyond my fears freed me to enjoy a calmer state of mind.
If
fear is one adversary of heijoshin, desire is another. Many people don¡¯t see
desire as a problem, but desire can distort the world as much as or even more
than fear. How many relationships have been ruined because someone saw their
partner through the lens of what they wished them to be instead of how they
actually are? Sometimes desire is a twisted expression of fear. We fear that we
won¡¯t be complete until we possess what we desire; that somehow possessing what
we desire will compensate for our perceived inadequacies. Even with the best
intentions, however, desire can inhibit our sword practice. It seems that the
more desperately I want to do
something right, to feel like I have achieved the movement or to please my
teachers, the harder it gets. My focus leaves the actually movements and
settles on my desire. My desire clouds my unconscious mind from doing its job
and guiding its movements. Heijoshin is a much more fluid state. When I clear
my mind – when there¡¯s nothing but the practice – that¡¯s when I do my best,
especially when I¡¯m practicing sword. When I¡¯m really in the moment with the
sword, it¡¯s as if everything else melts away. I can feel my vision change, as
if I¡¯m seeing from inside more than from my eyes. I think sword practice is the
closest I come to heijoshin.
Obviously,
fear and desire serve necessary roles in the human psyche. In some cases, fear
can save your life – if you listen to it but don¡¯t let it master you. Desire to
achieve can encourage us to do great things. Desire becomes a problem when you
let it consume you. I think that the mind in a state of heijoshin experiences
these emotions without becoming overwhelmed by them. I have a lot left to learn
before I can rest in heijoshin for more than fleeting moments. But even in the
short time that I¡¯ve practiced I¡¯ve felt myself change. I¡¯ve pushed back some
of the dragons from the gates of my mind, and outside the gate I¡¯ve seen a
better way to live. I hope that, as I continue to practice, I can keep learning
to embrace a fuller state of heijoshin.
What
Kendo Means To Me
By Max Lesser
I believe all
people have a cornerstone in their lives. A cornerstone is an art, practice,
discipline, passion, or pursuit that serves as a type of foundation for our
existence. It is something we can base our actions on, and whose teachings
affect our every decision. For some, this cornerstone is religion. For others,
it is a certain sport. Or an art form. Or a role model. For myself, however, it
is kendo; which encompasses all of those previously mentioned. Kendo has made
more of an impact on my growth as a person than just about anything else, and
it continues to do so with every passing day. I have learned a great deal in
the 4 ½ years that I have been practicing¡¦more so than I could possible
describe. Achieving 2nd Dan has been an incredible milestone, but
there is no shortage of things for me to improve upon and learn in the art of
Kendo. One of the key facets of my training has been with fear. Fear should not
be narrowly interpreted as ones reaction to a horror movie: it comes in many
shapes and sizes. Hesitation, timidity, apprehension, panic; these are all
forms of fear, and are nouns that can have a profound effect on ones kendo
performance. Through rigorous practice, one is able to move beyond the
restrictions of these words, and thus, move beyond fear. This process
is—nonetheless—far from simple and can take a lifetime to achieve. However,
instead of recounting my own experiences with fear, I will describe several
instances in which I tried to help others move beyond their personal fears.
There are a host of fears that plague beginners in Kendo, and this combination
can stint growth and hurt self-confidence. I have dealt with several beginners
that had trouble combating these emotions, and have employed a similar strategy
in order to help them. By utilizing kiap, one of the most important aspects of
kendo training, it is very much possible to overcome ones inhibitions and spar
with a clear conscience. When I practice with a beginner struggling with
himself, I will often challenge them to kiap contests. These ¡°contests¡± consist
of me yelling, and demanding that they then yell louder¡¦I don¡¯t go easy on
them. As the volume steadily increases, the beginner gradually moves away from
fear by letting all of his/her doubts manifest into shouting energy. It is
truly incredible how these practitioners (after a kiap ¡°contest¡±) can proceed
to spar with unseen energy and power. While on the subject, these lessons that
I teach to others have had great personal effect as well. There are few things
more gratifying than seeing the fruits of your teachings: whether it is a
practitioner¡¯s improved technique, sparring, or change in attitude. I truly
enjoy teaching others what has been taught to myself over the years from Master
Min and Master Seong. That is part of the magic of kendo: how these teachings
continue to translate from person to person and generation to generation. That
is how it has been for centuries, and with schools like Sung Moo Kwon, that is
how it will continue to be. In conclusion, Kendo doesn¡¯t just help students
develop physically, but also helps them mature and truly become ¡°better¡±
people. With every swing of the juk do, one comes that much closer towards the
elimination of the ego. It is not an easy pursuit, but it is undoubtedly a
positive one. I would recommend kendo practice to everyone, regardless of age
or sex. The respect, humility, and honor of swordsmanship are as relevant today
as they were during feudal Japan.
Soo Jee Lee
June 27, 2007
Kumdo 2 Dan Essay
The
Proper Attitude of a Kumdo Student
It
is unfortunate that Kumdo, or more commonly referred to as Kendo (as according
to its Japanese name), is a foreign topic to so many in our society, for it is
one of the best of its kind. Although it may not seem practical to learn how to
wield a sword (who carries one around nowadays?), much less a fake one,
Kumdo actually serves to sharpen one¡¯s mind, quicken our perception, judgment,
and reaction, and improve our physical health. For more than five years, I have
been always proud to call myself a Kumdo student. But is pride really
appropriate in the attitude of a humble student striving for consistent
improvement? In retrospect and reflection, I admit that the proper attitude
would not be pride, but rather infinite modesty.
Modesty,
in its general sense of meaning, tends to connote a lack of self-confidence and
therefore assertiveness. Pride, on the other hand, implies the effect of
bolstering confidence and aggression, which could be critical in any Kumdo
match and as a Kumdo participant in general. Therefore, I am not arguing for an
excess of modesty or a complete lack of pride, but rather a delicate, and
somewhat paradoxical balance of both traits in which modesty is given an iota
more of consideration and weight.
For
what is the purpose of any student? It is to learn, and to improve. In the case
of a Kumdo student, his objective is obviously to become the best Kumdo player
as he possibly can be. Logically, this would be achieved through
self-improvement efforts. However, pride will easily halt this progress, for a
student who is already satisfied with his abilities is loathe to experiment
with another technique in which he has less confidence, for example, or to seek
any significant improvements.
On
the other hand, modesty has the power of forcing self-evaluation upon us, the
students. It allows us to recognize our own flaws in technique and other
faults, which, combined with diligence and determination, will inevitably lead
to striving for improvement and its success. Furthermore, humility opens our
minds to the suggestions and advice of not only the masters, but our peers as
well (whether younger or older, and regardless of level). Unhindered by
stubborn pride, we are free to take chances and other opportunities to always
seek to develop our competence and skill, unafraid of the disdain of others or
failure. In this way, modesty cannot help but encourage and cause
self-improvement, whether by small degrees or in sporadic advances.
In
fact, one might compare pride to a still lake, unmoving and unchanging, while
the river, or even a stream, though modest and small, is constantly flowing,
and therefore always fresh and changing. It does not evaporate or freeze
easily, and is more active and dynamic than the calm, lifeless lake. While the
lake and its environment remain constant (if left untouched) for many years,
the river or stream has the power to break down the toughest boulders and even
carve out entire mountains.
There
is no doubt that any Kumdo student should adopt manners of persistence,
diligence, and obedience. Such qualities are taught from the day a student
begins Kumdo; modesty is acquired through awe and respect of others. Modesty is
the one quality that binds the others together—without modesty and the
consequential self-assessment, one would only become lazy and reluctant to
change. Unfortunately, as we (as students) grow in experience and skill, we
tend to grow arrogant and overconfident and thus lose that essential trait.
Therefore, I assert that as a 2 Dan, the most important, critical aspect
of the attitude I should hold is the simple but all-encompassing quality of
modesty.
Bridget
Kim
What Kumdo
means to me
Soccer,
tennis, swimming, volleyball, lacrosse, track¡¦throughout my life I have
participated in a great number of sports but none can compare to kumdo. I wake
up every morning and complain about school or work, and for a small period of
time I did the same about kumdo. Looking back at that time I regret ever having
thoughts of giving up, but that was when I was weak. I¡¯ve finally realized it
takes determination, patience, and heart to get through whatever troubles might
come my way, kumdo has taught me this. No longer do I wake in the morning and
groan at the thought of kumdo, instead I can¡¯t help but smile.
Two years of kumdo and I have finally achieved
my goal. I can¡¯t express the happiness I feel. I will always take what I
learned from kumdo wherever I go because I want to continue reaching my
ambitions. I am extremely grateful that I could experience kumdo. I can
proudly lift my chin and tell all those who want to know that I take kumdo.
Kumdo is my push to fight for what I want. Kumdo is my source of confidence and
strength.
No matter how cliché or cheesy it may sound,
kumdo really has helped me grow stronger physically and mentally. It teaches me
discipline and patience; it gives me that positive, work harder attitude. It
has shown me a broader and different view on life. My aspects on life are
entirely different from what they were in the past. I have learned to value and
cherish others. I have learned to view others as equals and to respect them.
And above all, kumdo has given me the
confidence and strength to respect myself as well. I have the strength of mind
to work hard for what I want in life.
Gregory R. Mitchell
I am very grateful for the opportunity to train in Siljon Dobup. I am new to traditional martial arts. However I know from my months at Sung Moo Kwan that I am blessed or lucky to have found a very traditional setting for my study of the sword. Grand Master Seong is very generous with his knowledge and I have looked forward to the physical, mental and spiritual demands of every training session.
I am an Army officer and professional soldier familiar with weapons and the rigors of war; however I have always felt that western military training lacks the spiritual quality that I have begun to explore in the Siljon Dobup sword style. There are many lessons to be learned from the sword. The various forms and time spent in the dojan are like meditation that restores and assists me in personal development and discipline. I feel that in recent months my study of the sword has added to other experiences in my personal and professional life. Siljon Dobup is something I will continue for the rest of my life and it has sparked my interest in the larger world of Kumdo. I know that when I return to the United States I will begin Kumdo training.
There are several specific lessons I have learned from Grand Master Seong, Siljun Dobup and the students of Sung Moo Kwan. Firstly, I have gained a new found appreciation for the pursuit of perfection. I can see through Siljun Dobup that sword combat is unforgiving. It demands execution of the right cutting angle, timing and above all confidence and personal composure. Training is a forgiving process but the goal of competency with the sword in a hypothetical real situation is not. Perfect execution of the cut and form is the goal and that pursuit of perfection in the dojan has many positive ramifications for the rest of one¡¯s life. The sword is an ancient weapon with no relevance to real life combat situations but I believe the confidence I gain from visualizing sword combat and working through the hypothetical situations in the various forms will positively influence my actions in the stressful situations I face as an Army officer and diplomat.
I believe that Siljun Dobup has a positive moral influence on a practitioner¡¯s life. Grand Master Seong has begun to teach me the value of chul-che, a Korean term which roughly translates as ¡®moderation¡¯ in the English Language. With the sword, the concept of chul-che requires the swordsman to apply an appropriate amount of controlled force with the sword that preserves the swordsman¡¯s balance and posture while delivering a potentially deadly cut. The sword cut must not be too powerful, too weak, too fast or too slow. The concept of chul-che has much broader application in areas of life outside the dojan such as art, love, food, alcohol and work. The sword, like many powerful things in this world can be used for harm or for good. One must approach the sword and life with balance, poise and moderation.
There is a third lesson I have often contemplated; never to regret a righteous action. Early in my training I learned to always step forward upon execution of my Siljun Dobup forms. On several occasions I stepped backward incorrectly and was corrected. Grand Master Seong explained that one must always step forward because the swordsman can never regret the sword-strike he has made and the combat he has emerged from with his life and body intact. This is a very important lesson that I contemplate in my study of the sword.
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