Ganshin Ichijo Fudoshin
The how and why we found ourselves on that hill on the summer solstice was not important, what was important was the kenjutsu (sword method) lessons of the here and now, concentrating and trying my best to both absorb the lessons being shown, while at the same time holding my own at the gathering.
Slowly moving around in the
moment, using my kamae (body postures) and sword elevations to (try) and hide
the distance, I moved closer and closer to my training partner, shortening the
sword so they would not be aware.
The opening was approaching,
and it appeared the didn’t even notice it, but I didn’t believe it. Once I
crossed the threshold of correct distance it no longer mattered- I had them.
Even if they were aware I was closing the distance, the way the sword was held
compared to mine meant there was no way to react, no way for them to come back.
I stepped in, and froze.
They didn’t even have to cut,
there was no reason or dignity in that, they had me.
Whatever they did, and I didn’t
know what they did, I would sure be asking about after the event. For now it was
time to continue running and leaping through the woods with the group.
Later around a campfire, I
waited for the correct moment to ask, a different kind of opening. A moment
when asking about such a thing, being a little more private, a chance for them
not to answer it if they wanted, not putting them on the sport forcing them to
tell me.
Being able to see and read
the moment.
What was I told?
Certain things in training
can not be explained, approached, or transmitted intellectually. Any attempt to
do so immediately not only nullifies them, but makes it (almost) impossible for
the other person on the receiving end to be able to do it one day. Such
experiences require an almost perfect moment in time, one where the person
giving the experience has the perfect organic setting for it, and one where the
personal receiving it can be open to it.
Ganshin Ichijo Fudoshin
That day, that place, that moment on the hill in the forest
was the moment, it actually had nothing to do with swords at all, we just
happened to be at that place and time in training.
By experiencing such a transmission, it sets something in
motion inside the person, something internal.
What was that? How do I do that? How do I find that?
Practice your taijutsu and be open to the experience is how.
(Something that happened on a similar summer solstice many years ago.)
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