I have been studying the school of Gyokko Ryu Koshijitsu this year in great detail, detail previously not available to me. I can’t explain why this is now available to me, but I will at some time in the future when certain events unfold and specific dramas play themselves out . The story of what has taken place this year is certainly a tremendous benefit and worthy of a separate entry, but not just yet.
Gyokko Ryu is one of the nine schools of the Bujinkan and in fact the school from which much of our taijutsu, or movement, is derived.
We study this and other schools in our system in the US to the best of our ability, but often the versions and key aspects of the katas that are described towards the last part of the scrolls, or densho, come from teachers whom collected notes at some seminar they attended long ago, seminars taught by yet another instructor who may have learned their interpretation at some distant time in the past.
This actually isn’t as bad as it sounds as Soke Hatsumi teaches us to concentrate on the feeling and not so much on the specifics of the kata. None the less it’s easy to see that from one area to another in the US and throughout the rest of the world there are some pretty strange ideas on how these kata, or combat scenarios - which is what they really are - should be performed and taught.
This year however, quite unexpectedly, I found myself in the fortunate position to learn from someone who had intimate instruction from Soke Hatsumi and had actual copies of the scrolls themselves from which to teach.
I have learned, and taken notes, with an enthusiasm that is truly unprecedented for me in my martial arts career. I have absorbed the feelings of what I am learning, and taught what I have learned to my students as sincerely and accurately as I am capable.
The actual thing I am pursuing however is what Soke Hatsumi has stressed as long as I have trained in the Bujinkan - the feeling. This is a difficult concept . First one must accept that the feeling is not found in collecting techniques, rather it is an ethereal and vague essence which no one seems to be able to pass on verbally or otherwise.
What I now am coming to finally realize, now that I am able to more accurately learn the techniques of this wonderful school of combat, is that the feeling of the movements of Gyokko ryu can only be found in the doing of the kata - in the practice. It is only through the repetition of the forms that one can come to experience what the actual feeling is.
This recent lesson connects many things I have come to believe about - well - many things. Buddhism is no different. The truth of Buddhism is in practice. We Nichiren Buddhists are in a strange state currently as there are so many different and conflicting schools of thought and beliefs about the history and doctrine of our school of Buddhism.
I believe there are many who have confused the incessant and habitual process of debating with those from other camps with the Buddhism itself. We all must find our own paths in the end. The reality is that there are those who will only arouse feelings of faith and connectedness when they are slugging it out with the enemy. It is the way of the world, the truth of Ten Chi Jin,- Heaven Earth and Man.
In the end, I believe (for myself anyway) that when in doubt - practice.
I wonder that I could ever have a teacher of Nichiren’s Buddhism who actually had the "densho" to teach from. With such a teacher I could come to understand the true feeling of our Buddhism and know what was real and what was false. Of course this isn’t possible. Each sect has their own agenda, and in the end the only things we can know to be absolutely real are Nam myoho renge kyo, the Gohonzon, and the Gosho.
Everything else? Well, when in doubt, practice…
Rev. Greg, Shidoshi
Before I was a Buddhist, I was a rudimental snare drummer. I suppose I converted from Drum Corps to Buddhism, from a certain point of view. More accurately since Drum Corps ended for me at age 21, and simply needed a new religion and a new practice.
The key to either is practice. I learned to practice when I was young. It came about quite unexpectedly one day when I was practicing rudiments, double stroke rolls to be exact, on my wood-with-rubber-top drum pad. I had been taught basic rudiments by an ex-drummer and boyfriend of my babysitter some time in the very early 70’s, most likely ’72 or ’73.
I had been attempting to practice what I’d been taught by him, and written out in the form of stroke notation i.e. RRLLRRLL, on notebook paper. It didn’t make much sense which is to say I did it but it wasn’t tangible or fulfilling until one fateful day it stuck. All of the sudden in a single point of time the double-stroke roll clicked. It was the very single point of time in which I understood what it was to practice.
I ended up joining a drum and bell corps called the Rebel Cadets. It was a younger version of drum and bugle corps with marching glockenspiels, or bells, instead of brass instruments. We won the California State contest both in 1974 and 1975, quite a big deal for a youngster.
More importantly I acquired my first real drum teacher, an ex-Bass Drummer from the already famous and international champion drum corps, the Santa Clara Vanguard.
Being the only kid who could actually play, I’m sure I was a pleasure for Kent Cahil to teach and have in his drum line, but I was already developing quite the young ego. Some time during the 1975 season I found myself in a little spat with Kent, over something I thought I deserved (I have no idea what) and I received the most important lesson of my young life. I learned I wouldn’t get my way just because I was good.
Kent should have just bid me goodbye, but as he did need me he instead took the patient road and let me walk away that day. He did however with hold teaching me the drum solo I was suppose to learn and perform later that year. Whatever happened I did learn the solo so I must have apologized and gotten my attitude together.
I performed the solo twice. Individual solo competitions were held earlier in the day before important competitive drum corps shows. I was very nervous moments before I played as I approach the judges table. Actually, I was petrified. First I ran down an open roll which was to begin with R R L L and accelerate gradually to top speed and then slow back down gradually and evenly until again reaching the beginning speed and then stopping. The trick was to accelerate evenly and play the roll the same amount of time up as down.
Having completed the drum roll I began the solo portion. About a third of the way through I completely forgot the solo. After a terrifying moment of silence I let loose a variety of high-speed roll patterns which were my forte. I played as fast as I could until I thought I had played enough.
I won.
I left Rebels in 1975 and journeyed to other drum corps eventually ending up in the Santa Clara Vanguard snare line. In both 1978 and 1979 Santa Clara fielded state-of-the-art lines and won the high drum caption in the Drum Corps International contest. 1980 was my final year and I was the anchorman for the snare line, the senior and center snare drummer, somewhat of a distinguished position.
I think I recall that in 1981 I saw Kent again, in a group at a local corps show, and tried to reconnect. He was my first teacher and I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to “report in” to him with my accomplishments all of which began with his instruction. I spoke with him but didn’t feel I had made any serious connection. I wish we had. I had marched in the same drum corps in which he had played, and had been very successful. I felt I needed for him to understand and appreciate what I had done.
Practice and the Master and Disciple relationship…
I suppose I don’t really need to say more. All paths have a beginning rooted in a single point of time.
Rev. Greg, Shidoshi