Samurai Gaijin

 

      

       "What are you looking at? " Ben asked, peeking over my shoulder while I was on the computer.

         "Oh just some swords," I said off handedly. Ben the ficus plant has been intensely curious about everything since I managed to spring him and myself out of the loony bin.

         "Oh that's a good looking one," He gushes at a the photo on a site that sells "authentic" samurai swords.

         "Oh please, anything less than carbon steel is for show," I replied, as if I knew anything about quality swords.

         I have always wanted a sword since I first held a bokken, a wooden one, in aikido class. I knew instinctively the correct way to hold it, like an ancient memory from a past life. The weight felt right but in this life I was a short plump woman not a sinewy warrior with arms well muscled from years of training.

         "How about that on?" Ben interrupted my reverie.

         "That's a katana, too long," I answered. The problem is I have a short reach so that's out of the question. I click to another page showing short swords.

          I recently became interested in Iaido since sword technique is limited in aikido.      

         Iaido, the art of drawing the sword, is a blend of Zen, Shintoism with a little Bushido thrown in. It's emphasis is on a precise, fluid, controlled motion of the quick draw and careful return of the sword to the sheath or saya. It looks totally cool too.

         "Don't you have a short sword already?" Ben means the dress wakizashi on display in the hall that my brother gave me years ago.

         "It's about as effective as a butter knife," I explained.

          If someone was dumb enough to challenge me I would gladly let them use that sword thinking they had an advantage while I could knock them out with the bokken. If Musashi Miyamoto only needed a boat oar to win a duel well, against the clueless, no contest.

         The fantasy is ridiculous to a true martial artist and searching on line depressed me so I quit  and returned to my daily writing with a heavy sigh.

         " You're not going to get one?" Ben knew that sound all too well.

         "No, I could have purchased one while I was in Japan years ago."        

The group I was with stopped at a sword shop and I asked to see a cheap one on display. I calculated my bank balance and demurred.

         "I should have bought it but the truth is -" I paused as emotion swelled in me.

" I prefer to earn one." I managed in a resigned tone.

         Anyone can buy one, pretend to be bad ass but the old warrior in me knew how  hollow that felt. To me the sword is a symbol of a level of achievement on the path to understanding. I got my shodan but it didn't bestow the kind of insight I hoped for. It was just another step, not completion. Therein lay the stinging disappointment to an impatient soul.

         "Ah I understand sensei." Ben said solemnly.

 

( A word about some terms. Gaijin means foriegner. Shodan is first degree black belt and Sensei is used to address instructors. Bushido is the samurai code of behavior. A samurai carried two swords, a short wakizashi and a longer Katana. Musashi Miyamoto was arguably Japan's greatest and deadliest swordsman. He won 61 duels and lived thru numerous battles then retired to a cave to wrote his masterpiece of strategy "The Book of Five Rings". )