A Rotary Youth in Japan: On Kyudo

PEACE

Archery. It was something I loved to do in America. I may not have done it on a regular basis, but I did it in my free time.

I had formal instruction for a few months on my compound bow when I was in ninth grade. In tenth grade I used the dirt pile next to my house as a base to put my target. In eleventh grade I would go out there during the summer and pound a few good arrows through the Styrofoam to relieve my stress of the day.

I’m not much of a physical person anymore. I don’t like running much. I don’t mind riding a bike, I actually like bikes. I don’t like playing sports unless it is for fun, I’ve lost that competitive streak in me. I really like to stretch my brain. To make it work. I love it when I can bury myself in studies.

Yes I am a teenager. Yes you read that right, I fricken love books. I like studying.

Archery to me was like studying. I have brute arm strength. I throw a wicked fast ball. I pick up and carry children in both America and Japan. I’m pretty strong. In archery you need strength and a sharp mind.

I think about it scientifically. How much higher do I need to tip my arrow up to make it to the target? How much further do I need to draw back on my string to add enough speed and force to the arrow? Which direction is the wind coming from, do I need to compensate for it? How long can I hold the bow, strung and knocked, as I aim correctly? Is my stance correct? Am I breathing properly?

All of that goes through my mind as I stand in the traditional ‘t’ stance, knock my arrow, draw back, and aim with my finger and sights

Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t think except for placing your mind on the very tip of the arrow. Nothing exists. There is nothing to bother me. Nothing to make me worry. It is meditation to me. Relaxation. Taking comfort in the stark rules and procedures one must follow when competing.

I have never hunted with my bow. It is for relaxation for now. It is something I take pride in.

It’s not very tall, it’s not very big, and it only has a fifty pound draw on it right now. In the world of archery it is used for training, but it’s my baby.

I kept it clean and orderly. I kept the arrows in line and kept the fletches free of dirt. You could almost place it up there with worship with how I treated it. I hate to ramble about it, but seriously, I love my bow.

Japanese archery is similar. Kyudo has many rules, many positions, many forms, and many traditions to go with it. One cannot fire a bow before taking up each of these stance, and in doing so, doing them correctly. If you mess up you have to restart from the very beginning of the lineup.

It’s grueling. It’s discouraging. I love it. Makes my brain hurt and body ache.

I have only been taught how to walk, hold the bow, and fire it dry. For those of you who don’t know archery, firing dry is when you draw back as if you had a real arrow knocked, and release your hold. I was doing this with a bow meant for that purpose.

YOU NEVER< EVER< EVER< fire a bow WITHOUT an ARROW! EVER! Bad, very bad.

When approaching the firing station, your feet must not leave the ground. You shuffle, purposefully, you shuffle. You approach the station and straddle the line in a ‘t’ shape. You drag your left foot to the left, follow it with your right, then your right foot returns to the other side of the lines. Your feet never leave the ground.

Here’s the list of stances you have to take before you can fire.

Ashibumi

Yugamae

Monomi

Douzukuri

Uchiokoshi

Daisam

Hikiwake

Kai

Hanare

Zashim

Yudaoshi

Monomigaeshi

Ashitogi

I don’t know exactly which is which, but my form is pretty good if the expressions on their faces are the thing I go by.

My strength comes into play here. I did the conversions. My draw poundage back home was 50lbs, here it would be 22 kilos. Most of the bows the other girls seem to be using are only 12 kilos. They tried at 9 kilo bow with me and I nearly bent it in half with just a drawback. We are obviously upping the poundage of my school lent bow.

Before we even start up the day, you pay respects. You bow as you enter the training room. You bow deeply three times, clap your hands twice, and bow deeply once again before following it with a slightly less deep bow. This is to pay respect to the dojo and the resident god in the shrine. You take off your shoes before you enter the room. You put your bag in the back and change into the uniform, be it your gym one or the traditional Japanese Hakama.

I use both. I have a hakama lent to me by the school and I use the gym uniform given to me when school started. Both are nice, but the hakama is far more comfortable.

Either way, you change in the changing room. One for girls, one for boys. You store your school bags in the back too. Each of have a personal cubby for our bags and clothes. I’m lucky, mine is up high and easy for me to reach!

You relax for a bit. You take a drink of water. You clean the floors, push up the garage styles doors that protect the room from the elements when not in use. You wet down the sand on the far side so it doesn’t fly up when arrows punch through it. You lines up the targets accordingly.

The yumi (Japanese longbow) must be strung and tested, all using the same steps as you would if you were actually firing the bow in a competition.

A few words on the Japanese yumi. It is beautiful. A work of utter art. The making of a bow takes a master years to learn how to do and is an art in itself. The Kyudo bow is an instrument of religion. It is used to banish bad spirits, to kill them, and to guard the innocent. Monks and Mikos (shrine maidens) use them to cleanse the air and grounds of the shrines.

It is very tall, taller than my own body and a half. It is curved delicately and the handle is right below a straw wrapped section. It is just beautiful to me.

The gloves are also works of art. Expensive works of art. I am borrowing one from the school. You do not fire with the first two fingers of your hand, but with your thumb. The glove covers your pointer, index, and thumb. The glove is made of leather that is hardened around the thumb, the pointer and index still flexible. Under this main glove you wear a thin cotton glove to protect the leather one from the oils of your skin.

On top of this, the uniform is traditional dress. A Hakama is a loose fitting outfit that looks to be made for comfort and minimal sewing. It’s actually pretty cool looking. You use the hakama when taking part in competitions. I said before, I use both my gym uniform and hakama.

Now, onto one last addition to the whole uniform. The chest guard. Women wear them because the string of the bow goes right over your chest. When it is released it snaps back and slides over the majority of your chest cavity. For us of the female gender, ouch. For you guys out there, nothing big about it. The guard is a simply designed leather plate made to form around your chest and put a layer between you and the violent string.

After the warm-up and readying period, we gather in the center of the room and line up in a pattern I can’t quite explain. I don’t understand it myself, I just know that I sit on the edge with the younger members. We meditate for a little bit, sitting on our knees and breathing deeply. We turn to the taicho (captain), she speaks a bit, and we bow with an answer back. We turn to the field and pay our respects, bowing low to the floor and nearly touching our foreheads to the ground. We stand, bow three times, clap twice, and bow two more times to the shrine. Then we break and the practice truly begins.

Everything in the dojo is quiet. Except for the hushed talk in the backrooms, the thump the arrows make when the hit the sand, the sharp whack when they hit the target, and the call of ‘yoss’ whenever a target is hit.

It’s therapeutic in the strange world I have been thrown into. I go from understanding the majority of the conversation to having it all go over my head. It’s stressful to get and lose the hand I have on the language. I can only hope it gets better with time.

There are no language skills needed in Kyudo. Just silent understanding a few muttered words of encouragement as I work my way through each of the poses. I don’t have to worry about whom I must bow to, everyone is below the shrine and the sensei in charge of us. We are all equals under them.

I can feel the tension leave my shoulders as I hoist my bow high. I can feel with each breath I take a release the stress and tiredness of the day leave my muscles. I can just close my eyes and feel my muscles strain in the odd position I have to hold them in. They shake and tremble, but I enjoy it all the more. I push myself to hold the positions as long as I can, perfecting them with each passing breath. As I relax I gain focus. I place myself on the imaginary arrow tip, I imagine the long shaft of the arrow pressed to my check, and I hear the string twang gently as my hand shifts for comfort. I imagine I release, I imagine that arrow wiggling through the air like a fish up a stream, I imagine it landing close to the mark I picture, but I have not truly fired my bow. I relax my grip and let my hand follow the taunt string back to the position it rests in.

I would never dry fire the real work of art I had been handed when I asked for something a bit more difficult.

I hate to admit it, but I’m almost afraid to really fire that bow. To really see my arrow fly across the seemingly short distance to the tiny target on the far end. I’m not afraid I’ll fail, no I’ve accepted that I probably will for a while before I get the hang of true aiming. I’m afraid I’ll shatter the peace of mind I gain when I follow the string back and start my stance over.

A word on true firing. True firing is done with a little aiming and a lot of gut feeling. I was good at that in America. Shooting the balloons and knocking down the targets on gut feel alone. Here, I don’t know the way the arrow will fly. I don’t know where to aim exactly to start the processes.

I’m okay though, I’m just a little ruffled over it. I believe in my friends on the team and my own gut to guide me as I finally let that arrow go instead of just thinking about it flying through the air, slicing molecules, and ripping into the sand.

My school's Dojo.