Kyudo: A Bow, Two Arrows and Self-Discovery

Cultural immersion was a central theme of our summer program through the University of Missouri. In order to give us a better understanding and appreciation of Japan's rich, historical culture, we were afforded a variety of opportunities to experience it first hand. This came in the form of our participation in a variety of Japanese cultural arts during our stay in Iida beyond our weekly puppet practice. This would include arts such as kendo, taiko and ikebana.Through this we were given the opportunity to practice perhaps my favorite, kyuudo - the Japanese martial art of archery. (Below: a snapshot of a photo which appeared with a story about our kyuudo studies. Photo courtesy of Sean Noble).

For some it may seem odd to consider archery an art, but the Japanese form of archery extends beyond simply drawing a bow and attempting to hit a target. As we learned during our lesson, each shot was more of a performance; a ceremony in its own right. Growing up around my family, I had been around guns and bows most of my life and knew how to use them in the more common sense, but that didn't necessarily translate to kyuudo prowess. It was actually somewhat frustrating for me that I didn't adapt as quickly to this different form, given my background with a bow and arrow. (Below: During our first lessons, we used a device similar to a slingshot to practice the draw-and-release technique).

As such, I might as well have been a fledgling archer
and that's exactly how we all started. We didn't even pick up an arrow until midway through our second day. We all started learning the basic technique, including how to enter the dojo and the proper form of a shot. It's not as simple as nocking an arrow, drawing and release.

First, we were given a brief demonstration of what a proper shot in kyuudo looks like. In a competition or display setting, typically there will be five archers with two arrows or ya, each having their own target, a circle no bigger than 2 feet in diameter 30 yards down the field. Participants entered the dojo in procession, with bow and arrows resting on their hips, being sure to bow to the judges and the dojo itself and then bowing to the target when they had reached their position. (Below: A view from the back of the dojo. The white dots are the targets each archer aims for in their shot. Photo courtesy of Kelly Washatka).

From there, archers will take turns firing their shots using a specific draw-and-release sequence unique to kyuudo. When not shooting or preparing for your shot, participants will sit on their knees in a formal position known as seiza. This was my first challenge in kyuudo, as I could not spend extended time with my knees bent stemming from sports in my younger years. After everyone had taken their first shot, the series would repeat with everyone's second arrow. Finally, the archers would again exit in procession, bowing a final time as a show of respect to the judges and the art itself.

There was certainly nothing rushed in our training. Before we were even allowed to fire an arrow we spent an excruciating amount of time learning the proper draw-and-release technique, including the entire ceremonial aspects. There was a specific way one should draw the bow and we had to learn it before we could attempt to fire. The idea was that if one could master themselves and the technique, hitting the target would eventually be just a natural result.

For the first two weeks of our training, after finally being allowed to use practice arrows, we spent our time adjusting to the proper technique and practicing our release into practice targets. These were just bales of hay bound tightly together that stood no more than 5 feet from us. This was to again, sharpen our release. All of us were new to kyuudo and so many of us were very rigid in our techniques. Our senseis spent the majority of the time getting us to relax and be more fluid in our shooting, to treat drawing and firing as a more natural action. (Below: This was mid-way through our training as we work on the drawing technique by firing into hay bales).

Eventually most of us had grasped the proper technique for shooting, we graduated to shooting at a down-range target, roughly 8 feet in diameter. The phrase "broad side of a barn" comes to mind when I think of this particular target, but still only a few of us were able to hit it. As our summer program drew to a close, we finally tried shooting at real targets, even practicing proper ceremony for entering and exiting the dojo. 

If I had to choose, I would say the biggest example of the essence of Japan could be captured in the art of kyuudo, the way of the bow and arrow. Kyuudo lessons in Iida were a bi-weekly occurrence and perhaps the one I most enjoyed of all our cultural experiences, second to perhaps the puppets themselves. It was unfortunate, but due to my bad knees and inability to perform seiza, I had to choose not to continue with kyuudo during my academic year at the Japan Center for Michigan Univerisities in Hikone.

Kyuudo, like much of Japanese life, followed a very rigid structure in its performance, with each firing of the arrow mimicking a small ceremony in and of itself. Another unique aspect of kyuudo is that it is completely an individual sport, no one to rely on but you. An important aspect I learned is that the only enemy is yourself. As a former wrestler, I was used to the idea of individual sports rather than relying on a team, but even in wrestling there was another person on the other side of the mat for you to defeat. In kyuudo, that other person is you. 

When I was younger I had a bit of a wild streak in me, but it was one not of crazy stunts and tricks, but one of anger and frustration. I was very quick to lose my temper and could easily become frustrated when I’m not able to solve something quickly. Kyuudo helps one to overcome those shortcomings. 

I had practiced archery before, but in the American sense, quite different from kyuudo. As such, I had a fair amount of confidence in my abilities as an archer, but as one could guess, I didn’t hit my target on the first shot. Or the second. Or the third. Or even the tenth. That fact frustrated me to no end. But in kyuudo, the more you focus on and get annoyed with your past results, the more it will ultimately affect your next shot. 

To conquer this, I had to learn not to be so hard on myself every time I missed a pie-sized target that was 30 meters away. Cliché as it may be, I had to find my center and focus only on myself, the target and the next shot. It's a policy I've tried to adapt to other aspects of my life and I think it's good advice for anyone, really. You can't get hung up on what has passed. What's done is done and there's not a thing anyone can do to change what happened even one second ago.

Living in Japan has changed me as a person. I think I can sum it up in a simple statement. At what would be my last kyuudo practice in Iida, I hit that target.

Useful phrases from this week's post:

Kyuudo - きゅうどう- 弓道

Meaning: Japanese Art of Archery

Kendo - けんどう- 剣道

Meaning: Japanese Art of Swordsmanship

Taiko - たいこ- 太鼓

Meaning: Japanese drums

Ikebana - いけばな - 生け花

Meaning: Japanese Art of Flower Arrangement

Ya - や - 矢（outdated kana usage)

Meaning: Arrow

Seiza - せいざ - 正座

Meaning: Formal sitting position on one's knees sitting on the soles of one's feet