The New Guy Speaks
Well, this is my first contribution to Yachigusa-Ryu’s blog. I was asked to talk a bit about my impressions of my first tameshigiri class - what I expected, what happened, my thoughts on the accident, etc.
Yachigusa Ryu is my first step into the martial arts. At the time of this writing, I have had exactly one month of training. I joined for two reasons: first, to find out what martial arts is really about. It’s been “Hollywooded” to death, but what is it really all about? The second reason is that I wanted to develop mental discipline, and if there’s anything I’ve heard, it’s that the study of any martial arts teaches discipline. Okay, I have to confess, there is a third reason, and that is I just love the samurai sword… I’m a shameless geek, and my love of swords is part of it, but I’ve always felt the samurai sword stood head and shoulders above all others in terms of beauty, function, and mythology.
So by the time we break out the straw mats at my first tameshigiri class, I’m like a kid on Christmas morning. I was lucky enough to get my hands on a Paul Chen sword, which I was going to use at this class. I really did have my doubts about whether it would actually cut, because the blade really didn’t seem too sharp to me, but then what do I know? Sensei assures me it’s fine, and sure enough that straw mat was cut straight through, no effort at all. Wow, this thing is real! In another time and place, that could’ve been someone’s wrist or neck I just severed.
At this point, the evening continues to go by well. I got some good solid cuts and I had some embarrassing misses. I’m the new guy, after all! Then the next student goes up to cut. He cuts the mat, no problem. Then he looks down. He says he just cut himself. He did????? Where’s the blood? I didn’t even see anything! But Sensei sits him down, grabs the first aid kit, presses gauze against his foot, and sure enough the red shows through. Then the student starts to grunt in pain. Sensei has to wrap the student’s foot together tight as a mummy to be sure that the wound doesn’t open wider. (Sword cuts are supposed to get bigger if you keep moving…yes, somebody thought about this…pretty morbid, huh?). Thankfully, the student is able to get himself to the hospital.
Looking back, it happened so fast. No one saw it coming, and no one saw it when it happened! The blade moved so fast, and cut so efficiently, the student didn’t even feel any initial pain.
The next week, I took a look at the stitches on his toe. Now my impression when the accident happened was that he only cut the top of his foot maybe an inch. Imagine my surprise when I see stitches starting at the tip of his toe, and going back at least three inches!! Good Lord, I think to myself. That sword is deadly!
As fascinated as I am with the katana, this incident reminded me, loud and clear, that it is a weapon, the loaded gun of its day. Its every inch is engineered so that it could carry out its single purpose: to kill. The sword wasn’t a toy or a show piece; people died on the end of these blades.
This incident, along with what I’ve learned in kenjutsu thus far, has shown me very clearly how fragile life can be. We deal with weapons that can pierce flesh so well, the victim is sometimes not aware he is being cut until it’s too late. We’re learning to go for the femoral artery when attacking the leg, or how to slash at the throat when attacking high. How easy it is for life to be lost! Life is all we have. If it is lost, nothing else matters. To see how something so important can be so fragile speaks volumes on how precious it really is.
Yachigusa Ryu is not about learning how to beat someone up. It’s not that shallow. This discipline was developed during a lawless time in human history, and as history has shown, adversity breeds greatness. The Yachigusa family developed this style of fighting not because they wanted to kill, but because they wanted to live. These people developed their art against the backdrop that any minute, they could die. So it’s only natural that everything to do, teach and believe would be saturated with that impetus to live life as well as possible. The result is an art that was rooted in everything that makes a human great: discipline, patience, strength, courage, honor, self control and even compassion. Perhaps the greatest paradox in what we do is that by learning to fight and kill, we learn to become better people so that we don’t have to fight and kill.
I hope I’ve only taken the first few steps of what will be a lifetime of learning. There is no greater way to live then to improve oneself constantly. I now say a prayer every once in awhile in thanksgiving that I live in a time and place where I can learn the martial arts to become a better person, and will never have to use it in anger.
-Piya Wannachaiwong
Yachigusa Ryu is my first step into the martial arts. At the time of this writing, I have had exactly one month of training. I joined for two reasons: first, to find out what martial arts is really about. It’s been “Hollywooded” to death, but what is it really all about? The second reason is that I wanted to develop mental discipline, and if there’s anything I’ve heard, it’s that the study of any martial arts teaches discipline. Okay, I have to confess, there is a third reason, and that is I just love the samurai sword… I’m a shameless geek, and my love of swords is part of it, but I’ve always felt the samurai sword stood head and shoulders above all others in terms of beauty, function, and mythology.
So by the time we break out the straw mats at my first tameshigiri class, I’m like a kid on Christmas morning. I was lucky enough to get my hands on a Paul Chen sword, which I was going to use at this class. I really did have my doubts about whether it would actually cut, because the blade really didn’t seem too sharp to me, but then what do I know? Sensei assures me it’s fine, and sure enough that straw mat was cut straight through, no effort at all. Wow, this thing is real! In another time and place, that could’ve been someone’s wrist or neck I just severed.
At this point, the evening continues to go by well. I got some good solid cuts and I had some embarrassing misses. I’m the new guy, after all! Then the next student goes up to cut. He cuts the mat, no problem. Then he looks down. He says he just cut himself. He did????? Where’s the blood? I didn’t even see anything! But Sensei sits him down, grabs the first aid kit, presses gauze against his foot, and sure enough the red shows through. Then the student starts to grunt in pain. Sensei has to wrap the student’s foot together tight as a mummy to be sure that the wound doesn’t open wider. (Sword cuts are supposed to get bigger if you keep moving…yes, somebody thought about this…pretty morbid, huh?). Thankfully, the student is able to get himself to the hospital.
Looking back, it happened so fast. No one saw it coming, and no one saw it when it happened! The blade moved so fast, and cut so efficiently, the student didn’t even feel any initial pain.
The next week, I took a look at the stitches on his toe. Now my impression when the accident happened was that he only cut the top of his foot maybe an inch. Imagine my surprise when I see stitches starting at the tip of his toe, and going back at least three inches!! Good Lord, I think to myself. That sword is deadly!
As fascinated as I am with the katana, this incident reminded me, loud and clear, that it is a weapon, the loaded gun of its day. Its every inch is engineered so that it could carry out its single purpose: to kill. The sword wasn’t a toy or a show piece; people died on the end of these blades.
This incident, along with what I’ve learned in kenjutsu thus far, has shown me very clearly how fragile life can be. We deal with weapons that can pierce flesh so well, the victim is sometimes not aware he is being cut until it’s too late. We’re learning to go for the femoral artery when attacking the leg, or how to slash at the throat when attacking high. How easy it is for life to be lost! Life is all we have. If it is lost, nothing else matters. To see how something so important can be so fragile speaks volumes on how precious it really is.
Yachigusa Ryu is not about learning how to beat someone up. It’s not that shallow. This discipline was developed during a lawless time in human history, and as history has shown, adversity breeds greatness. The Yachigusa family developed this style of fighting not because they wanted to kill, but because they wanted to live. These people developed their art against the backdrop that any minute, they could die. So it’s only natural that everything to do, teach and believe would be saturated with that impetus to live life as well as possible. The result is an art that was rooted in everything that makes a human great: discipline, patience, strength, courage, honor, self control and even compassion. Perhaps the greatest paradox in what we do is that by learning to fight and kill, we learn to become better people so that we don’t have to fight and kill.
I hope I’ve only taken the first few steps of what will be a lifetime of learning. There is no greater way to live then to improve oneself constantly. I now say a prayer every once in awhile in thanksgiving that I live in a time and place where I can learn the martial arts to become a better person, and will never have to use it in anger.
-Piya Wannachaiwong
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