So What Does It All Mean Anyway?
The following section is a collection of writings that introduce and clarify details that I feel are important for deepening one's understanding of iaido. Although they address different issues, they work together. In this way, the essays arrive (hopefully) at a comprehensive conclusion of what it entails to study iaido.

We'll start by examining why anyone should choose to study iaido or anything else for that matter. In some instances, I've used illustrations from my life and practice of martial arts to help us examine a mindset that is not uncommon among modern iaido practitioners. In such cases, my experiences should be simply viewed as a representative example.

Later, we'll look at some of the issues that lead people to misunderstand the role martial arts should play in the lives of those who pursue them. These analyses should help us to examine iaido's philosophical elements, which in turn prepare us to examine the spiritual side of iaido.

Like most things in life, not every teacher of iaido views his or her practice in the same manner, and not everyone in iaido has arrived at the same philosophical conclusions as are outlined in this book. Still, most of the ideas that follow have been discussed and generally embraced by at least some well-respected iaido experts.

Why Do Wise Old Men Whittle Sticks?
Most of the people who study the way of the Japanese sword do so with a kind of fervor that is rarely seen in the pursuit of other hobbies. To an outsider, it could seem to be a type of strange infatuation with historical Japanese killing methods. This notion is as far from the true pursuit of iaido as it could possibly be. In this section, I will initially attempt to demystify the study of iaido. However, later I will "re-mystify" iaido by discussing its esoteric subtleties and implications for ethical empowerment.

My wife is glad that I study martial arts with passion, because she is a remarkable woman, who has an almost supernatural insight into what makes me tick. She sees the physical and philosophical benefits iaido brings me. "I'm just glad you don't waste your time watching sports all day and drinking beer," she says. The truth is that my wholehearted pursuit of the martial arts could be seen by some as being similar to a sports fan's crazed obsession with teams, games, and statistics. People by nature seek out things to study and outlets that give them some sense of accomplishment. Whether you enjoy football, needlepoint, or something else makes little difference. The most important thing about a hobby is that it is beneficial and enriching. Yet, iaido is much more than a mere hobby.

When you commit yourself to an avocation, it should ideally build character and give a sense of serenity. Hobbies that do this often become lifelong pursuits. The vehicle is not important, nor the destination; it is the quality of our journey that is important. A wise old man whittles a stick for something to do, relaxation, and most importantly, because he enjoys whittling.

It is just that simple: he enjoys whittling. There are qualities of Japanese swordsmanship that draw me into the pursuit, but at one level I just do it because I enjoy it.

The best way for me to illustrate my passion for iaido is to tell the story of how I came to love it. It was a beautiful and unforgettable sight, one that drew me into a new way of thinking about the world and my place in it.

In an attempt to instill structure and discipline, my mom sent me to study tae kwon do at the age of ten. I enjoyed the techniques because they gave me a fighting chance to defend myself against my brother who, for years, had beaten the snot out of me (as brothers do). I grew fast and accurate. Armed with a chip on my shoulder and some vicious techniques, I felt self-assured for the first time. Fast forward a few more years, and I had put a few kids in the hospital. On a couple of occasions, my parents and I narrowly escaped lawsuits. My early high school years were filled with conflict, and my heart felt the repercussions.

I knew I needed a new system of resolving conflicts. I was ready for a change, but I had no idea what the change would be . . . until one day I stumbled onto a teacher of the Japanese sword.

As fate would have it, I was walking to the school building to get some books, when I heard some movement in my high school auditorium. The building was almost one hundred years old, and the auditorium was dusty and creaky. The morning sun penetrated the old orange-yellow glass creating brilliant beams of golden dust. A surreal glow filled the old hall and was accompanied by the musty smell of cool fall air in the seemingly ancient building.

"Creak creak creak, swoosh, hisssss." What was it?

As I passed the cracked door, I saw a man lit by the yellow-orange beams, who was dressed in the old-style clothing of a samurai. His form was like a glowing black silhouette, which seemed to float across the floor. The brilliant dust of the room complemented his grace, focus, speed, and dignity. I was experiencing sensory overload. The sounds, sights, and smells of what I saw were forever burned into my mind. In that instant, I knew that I had found the art that I was looking for. I'd discovered something mysterious, something fascinating, something to change my life.

Many years later, I still have the same feeling of awe. A wise old man whittles a stick for something enjoyable to do. It's not that I think that I'm wise. I've just found something that I really enjoy doing. When we strip away all of the ego and the nonsense, simple truths are exposed. On one level, iaido is just something worthwhile to pursue. True, it is sometimes frustrating, expensive, and humbling, but iaido is also richly rewarding.

Iaido and Self-Actualization
Iaido is one of the most profound systems of self-discovery that I have seen within the martial arts. Its implications for ethical living are every bit as applicable as those of aikido, perhaps the martial art most well known for its spiritual dimension. The way of the sword is very subtle. Unlike aikido, since iaido techniques are frequently lethal, it teaches its lessons without the benefit of practical examples of how to apply its ethical strategy. When people come to iaido they usually do so for one of two reasons.

First, and most common, is their fascination with the sword as an instrument of power. This type of applicant usually wants to just learn the techniques. They see the beauty and grace, combined with the deadly speed and exact control, and want it for themselves. Their need for power and their misconceptions of what true power really is draws them to the jewel-like sword techniques. This is the desire to elevate one's self-image and self-esteem by superficial means.

These types of students rarely last more than a couple of months. After they have gone to considerable expense to purchase their hakama, kimono, juban, obi, and iaito, their iaido equipment, they strut into the practice area swelling with pride. When this type of student realizes how hard the techniques are, and what little tolerance for "Jedi Knight" nonsense there is, they usually quit and are never heard from again. Sadly, this type of student is not ready for the level for self-mastery iaido can provide. Simply put, they usually need to spend more time meeting the more basic human needs of safety, love, and self-esteem before they are ready for iaido.

The second type of student that comes to iaido usually finds himself or herself committing a lifetime to its study. This is the type of student that has already experienced profound and life-changing events that lead him to understand the true nature of power. For many people with this background, iaido becomes an esoteric pursuit. When studying iaido, I feel it is essential that such students understand the metaphoric nature of the sword.

Many times, people who begin training in iaido do so after mastering other martial arts. Through their journey, they have come to understand the importance of training the spirit. Oftentimes they are mature both in age and as martial artists. These are often people that realize the value of such a technically complex and lengthy system as iaido.

They are also the types of people drawn to iaido's emphasis on spiritual composure. By learning to calm emotions and the mind's voice, we can master our minds, and this is appealing to many long-term followers of iaido. When one sees the universe as a giant expression of the same thing, it has profound implications on the mind, especially that of the swordsman. And more than one famed Japanese swordsman in the past indicated that via martial training, he had come to see the universe in this way.

Yet, the beginner's mind swims with thoughts, which are mostly concerned with angles and stances and not injuring oneself. Through thousands of repetitions, the kata, or "formal exercises," are internalized. Performing the kata at a beginner's level (due to the danger and structure involved) requires extreme focus. During this stage, the student is so focused on swordsmanship that he or she is not thinking about their mortgage, love life, or other concerns. The mental voice quiets down because of the demanding nature of iaido practice. With several years of practice, the kata can then be done without mental chatter. Something magical happens: the mind remains quiet, while the body performs the movements that comprise the kata. Even at a high level of mastery, the kata require so much focus that there is no way to allow the mind to stray from the task. Over time, the mental voice quiets down, and then you are really doing iaido.

An example of this process can be found in how we learn the initial kata, Mae. First, students think, "I draw the sword and cut the throat of the opponent." Then, as our fluency builds, we think, "I draw and cut." At this stage, we have let go of our attachments to the idea that we must be cutting something. Then, after we let the kata stand alone as an entity in and of itself, we remove the "I." The mind says, "Draw and cut." By removing both the "I" and the "opponent," we arrive at a more profound sense of what the kata really is.

For swordsmen inclined in this direction, by going beyond the idea of an individual self and others, they arrive a state beyond duality, a state of absolute oneness. To put this idea more simply, we are all just part of the same big cosmic soup, variations of the same great expression that is our world. Yasutani Roshi, a teacher of Zen meditation, indicated the same mental state that can be found in iaido when he said, "The greatest misconception of man is that I am in here, and you are out there." When we arrive at the truth of iaido technique, there is no "you" or "I." There is just breath and motion. And only the cut remains.

The opponent is no longer separate from oneself. In reference to the delusion and attachment that our ego creates, the opponent is our concept of a truly separate and individual self. The sword is a powerful metaphor for how we can cut away our misunderstandings of the universe. Yet, each of our journeys is our own. What my sword training has taught me may be different from what your training will teach you. For this reason, I am always excited for each of my students to go through their own process of self-discovery.

Strip away extraneous elements, and simple truths are revealed. The state of everything in our universe is interrelated and is precisely as it should be. Our minds and egos tell us otherwise, but we can choose not to be deceived. We can become true masters of ourselves through iaido. The process of painstakingly learning iaido over a lifetime can yield great insights and clarity of mind. Although I'm still young, with only a cursory understanding of these things, I look forward to the years to come in iaido, and more importantly, to the lessons they will bring me.

Interconnectedness of Self and No-Self

This is the mind-seal of not
one thing.
What is not one thing?
Mountains fresh and green,
Water clear and flowing.
--Yamaoka Tesshu

When one fully realizes the enormity that is "self," one is naturally called to reflect on the nature of the self in relation to the "not self," or everything else. This reflection begins with a process of coming to understand the ego, and how it distorts the idea of self. The ego seeks the superficial definition of power, which is power over others. It tells us that we are "not like them" and so we are separate, even better. Our inner voice tirelessly tells us to separate ourselves from others, so that we can feel a sense of superiority. Our ego's voice calls us to judge and classify other people's attributes, thoughts, and deeds in relation to our own.

Over time, and through careful observation, we can come to see a reflection of ourselves in those we judge. That is to say, when we dislike some aspect of someone else, we usually hate and fear that very same element of our own personality. We can eventually achieve an understanding that we are the very person whom we dislike and judge. In the end, there is no difference between those we despise and elements of our own character we fear.

Most cultures agree that the more positive thoughts we have, the happier we are. The happier people are, the more joyfully they will live their lives. There is a simple truth here: the more good you put into the world, the more good there will be in the world. Goodness begets goodness, and sadly, evil begets evil. This creates a snowball effect of either increasing goodness in our universe or increasing evil. These two elements of humanity's nature ebb and flow in an eternal system of checks and balances. I believe that this ebb and flow of goodness and evil creates a state of equilibrium. Almost all cultures have tried to describe this phenomenon in one way or another. Just like the rise and fall of different populations within the ecosystem, so too do the moral values of populations wax and wane in a synchronized harmony.

We are all responsible for living in a way that promotes goodness. Religions throughout the world have tried to describe this truth. Many people express accountability for the deeds and energy that they create while living on earth. Some say that people will be punished for their wrongdoings. Others teach that, in the afterlife, lesser rewards await those people whose deeds have been morally questionable. Still other religions state that when we die our deeds are assessed, and that we are reborn in a position that accords with how well or poorly we have lived our lives. Call it karma, wrath, judgment, or whatever, the consensus seems to be that we will be held accountable for what we bring to this world. As martial artists, who have cultivated a potentially destructive ability, this has profound implications for our responsibilities. For people interested in iaido as meditation, in iaido as a way of seeing the interconnectedness in the universe, such concepts are important.

Scholars from every culture have debated the interconnectedness of all things. Native American wise men speak of "brother" and "sister" animals and spirits. They connect the self with all living and non-living things and see them as different expressions of the Great Spirit and Mother Earth. In Christianity, fellow believers are often referred to as brother, sister, father, and mother. This is another way that people have come to express the interconnectedness of things. The golden rule is another manifestation of the same philosophical ideal. Yet another example is found in the saying: "What goes around comes around."

All cultures have come to express this truth in whatever way they can, given their sociological and political setting. I also believe that everything is connected, every person, every thing, every thought, every light wave. This may sound extreme, but the scientific support for this belief is staggering.

Albert Einstein proved that energy and mass are different manifestations of the same thing. Likewise, modern physicists are studying quantum mechanics and finding that everything is made up of the same little things, and that the only difference is the vibration patterns of those little particles. The vibration of each particle affects the piece next to it, which in turn does the same, and so forth. Even emptiness is made up of these same little particles. In this way, scientists are finding that everything is indeed part of the same big thing or stuff. More concisely, everything is everything, and there is no separation between objects that appear to be separated.

While I'm no authority on quantum physics, and while not all physicists agree as to what all of this ultimately means, such ideas are still interesting for those seeking the interrelationship of all creations via iaido. When this is considered, along with the cultural and social traditions of seeing things as interconnected, the support for the union of everything seems even worthier of careful consideration.

These are sensitive subjects for many people. I am trying to illustrate ideals that I believe to be not only true, but also crucial to developing a deep and true sense of self through iaido. Given the theme of this book and given the direction my practice of iaido is oriented in, it is important to also emphasize that iaido does not require any particular religious affiliation. Your truths will be your own, and so too will be your journey. However, due to the reflective nature of iaido, my students are often asked to reflect on how the ideologies of the benevolent warrior archetype can be applied to their own beliefs. Readers of this book on iaido as meditation might also want to consider this question and how it relates to the above topics.

Moreover, while being Buddhist is not required in my school, some study of Buddhist principles (at least academically) is. Why?

No martial art originates in a vacuum. Iaido was profoundly influenced in technique and philosophy by the Japanese cultural matrix, which was in turn deeply influenced by Buddhism and Shintoism. I believe that to study iaido properly, one must understand the culture, history, and thought of its origin.

Since many top iaido exponents were (and are) Buddhist, their explanations of iaido's objectives and mental state were often expressed through a Buddhist worldview, making a general familiarity with this worldview useful to iaido students. Again, iaido doesn't require any particular religious affiliation, rather, a general interest in Asian culture, history, aesthetics, and religion.

It is from these universal truths that concepts like karma and the golden rule have been born. Scholars stretch their minds and struggle to find words that express these profound ideas. Again, Yasutani Roshi said, "The greatest mistake of mankind is the thought that I am in here, and you are out there." I find his words to be amazingly clear on this point, and centrally related to studying iaido as moving meditation. The benefits of this type of thought are profound and are intended for all mankind regardless of cultural origin or religious affiliation. This is the spirit of iaido—a discipline born in Japan, but holding great value for people of all nationalities that are interested seeing the oneness of all creations.

Think of the phrase, "I was cruel to you." Consider that we are expressions of the same big thing that comprises the soup of the universe. Then the "you" and the "I" become misconceptions that dissolve when examined closely. The idea that we can put goodness into our world leads us to say, "I was cruel." Here, the person to whom I was cruel becomes less important than the fact that I was cruel. This is true because it is more important and profound that I have put negativity into the universe than hurting the person specifically. Evil begets evil, an important consideration for people armed with razor sharp weapons.

Examining the "I" in the phrase, "I was cruel," allows for further deconstruction of the real state of affairs. This is the process of examining oneself. Our actions are just expressions of the great cosmic soup that ebbs and flows with the universe's overall "morality." In essence, the cruelty that I expressed was just a mirror of my world and my experiences. If we continue to allow this problem to run its logical course, we will realize the ultimate truth: "you " and "I" are both delusions. The real state of the situation when we look closely is just "cruel." Because the "you" and "I" are the same, I can see that the cruelty is the real problem. I was perhaps cruel because I saw something in the "you" that I didn't like within the "I."

Then we arrive at the nature of the moment: cruel. Cruelty is a part of the universe and an element of existence. This does not mean that I am not responsible for cruelty. Rather, I am even more profoundly responsible, because I have a moral obligation to use strength to promote love and wellness. When we understand this state of the universe, we have great responsibility to exude the spirit of katsujin-ken, or the "life-giving sword."

By closely examining situations like this, we come to see clearly. This requires that we let go of our ego and logically examine the true state of things. We must detach from our emotional hang-ups and preconceived notions of how the world should work for us. In this way, we can dissolve our misconceptions and find peace and stillness within our hearts. We can minimize, if not eliminate, our anguish through this type of careful examination of the true state of things. Mainstream scientists and religious scholars the world over are finding support for the idea of oneness. As we begin our journey in iaido, we can realize the same truth if we keep these things in mind. Understanding this will contribute to a deep appreciation for iaido as a spiritual path.

Conclusion of Part Two
At its most basic level, iaido consists of graphic descriptions of how to kill with the sword. After learning how to wear the uniform, etiquette, and sword handling, "Step out like this, and draw your sword to cut the throat like this," is likely to be the first thing a student of Eishin Ryu iaido hears. The esoteric oneness of the universe can be easily overlooked when you are following instructions like these, while simultaneously trying not to trip on your hakama! On one level, the techniques of iaido were born out of a need to kill. At a high level of mastery, the practice of iaido takes on a much deeper significance. After the mechanics of the techniques are developed, the kata can be performed as a type of moving meditation that is not dependent on religious affiliation.

The idea is to clear your mind of "noise." Our inner voice speaks to us night and day: "What about my girlfriend/wife/husband? I forgot to feed the dog! I hate traffic! I need to go to the store after work. Does my boss like me? Do I care?" On and on and on it goes. As the pace of our society quickens, our mind races to keep up with its demands. Our inner voice speaks faster and faster, until it seems the voice tells us one thought after another at a dizzying speed. Sleepless nights provide a perfect example of this problem. Iaido has an answer.

When you are holding a sword, learning something new, focusing intently on not cutting yourself, or tripping on your hakama, something remarkable happens. Your mind's voice quiets down and begins to focus. Zen Buddhist traditions have several means of accomplishing this type of quiet focus. Some examples are the intricate ceremonies in a Zendo ("Zen temple"), the flawless movement of the tea ceremony exponent, or the exacting and unblemished movements of iaidoka. These types of meditation are seen as beneficial, because they quiet the mind. By achieving a state wherein the mind's voice is silent, careful observations of deep truths can be made.

In Buddhism, efforts are taken to minimize pain and suffering. It states that the pain and suffering that we experience are the result of misconceptions of universal truths and the attachments they create. When our mind's voice tells us that something should happen, but it doesn't, we become disturbed as a result of our attachment to the outcome. And so my mind's voice causes me to be attached to, and hold on to, outcomes and beliefs that are often unreasonable. In reality, there is no reason for me to believe that my thoughts are correct and that things should be just as I want. Just as in Buddhist thought, in iaido, students are often in turmoil due to their attachments to perfect technique, obtaining higher rank, performing well during testing, et cetera. Going beyond attachment in iaido, as in life, is a path out of this turmoil.

Following this logic to its conclusion, it can be determined that anguish and suffering exists within the mind as a result of our misconceptions of how the world should work. Sadly, this does not make a broken leg or heart less painful. It only gives us a reference from which we can examine the reasons for our attachment to emotion, pain, outcome, being on time, et cetera. Here's a quick example: When I get angry because I'm stuck in traffic, it is my mind's voice that spurs my reaction. I say to myself, "Why don't people merge right if they want to go 50 mph in a 65 mph zone! Now I'm going to be late for my appointment!" So there I am, working myself up into a sweat. If I can let go of my attachment to my mind's voice, I can find a place where my mind is still. In doing so, I may realize that I have created this situation by not leaving early enough.

If I continue to examine my thoughts and feelings, I may not only transcend my attachment to such thoughts, and thus calm down; I may gain insight into the nature of attachment. When I have identified the fact that I am irrationally harboring expectations of the way things should be, then I can let them go and feel a sense of peace. In essence, Zen Buddhism seeks to eliminate pain and anguish by becoming the master of one's mind. Iaido teaches the same.

I am by no means a master of Zen. Nonetheless, while Zen is not historically the overriding religious influence on most ancient forms of swordsmanship, it has had an impact on certain schools of the Japanese sword. Since its worldview aligns with how I feel iaido can be practiced as meditation, a brief description of its foundations as they pertain to iaido is useful in this book. Often during meditation, Zen practitioners are asked to focus on a single point, for example, their breathing or a "riddle" (koan). The dangerous nature of sword arts has long been seen as a great way to focus the mind, and its emphasis on "stillness in motion, motion in stillness" is comparable to a Zen koan. As we look into the technical details of iaido practice, we must keep this wisdom in mind. Train attentively on the details, angles, posture, et cetera, but never overlook the potential depth of meaning in iaido practice.

About the Author: The above excerpt is from a work in progress that is tentatively titled Katsujin-ken: The Sword of Compassion. Max Roach Sensei is a new regular member of the SMAA, who trains in iaido and aikido. When Katsujin-ken is scheduled for publication, it will be announced in the SMAA Newsletter.

Based in Utah, Mr. Roach is an iaido student training in the lineage of Bob Ward Sensei, Yamaguchi Katsuo Sensei, and Ochiai Tadao Sensei. He has received dan grade from the SMAA Iaido Division.