Kyudo’s taste

Kyudo heart and the five qualities of flavour

The following is a short speech given by Shibata Kanjuro XX, Sendai at the end of a kyudo class in Boulder in 1989. It was written down by Don Symanski and jointly edited by Don Symanski and Ellen Mains (translation: Susanne Albrecht).

What does zazen mean? Does it mean being high? Sometimes you sleep, sometimes you are high ... an hour passes, two hours. Kyudo is almost the same. When you shoot at the target, sometimes there is too much hope. Your style of shooting is full of hope, hope, hope. It's like businessmen hoping, hoping, hoping to make a lot of money. My only hope is that you can become more relaxed. You hope too much.
Meditation is non-thinking, all non-thinking. I say the heart alone should be strong. You should work alone to make your heart beautiful. Do you understand? Kyudo is the same. Everyone practices the Seven Coordinations and the Five ‘Flavour Qualities’ (Gomi). Gomi is very, very difficult to understand. First we work on the style, the seven co-ordinations. Each one starts to look good: Ashibumi, Dozokuri ... Uchi-okoshi, Hikitori ... good.
But you can't see the five flavour qualities. The five flavour qualities are inside you. They are feeling. You can taste sugar and salt. If sugar rots your teeth, it's not so good. Too much salt is not so good either. But you can't see the five flavour qualities. They are different for everyone. Everyone has a different style. If you practice the seven coordinations, you can observe them and correct or harmonise them. Now, practising the seven coordinations is still difficult for everyone. Later, the five flavour qualities will emerge. But for now, practise the seven coordinations.
Right now, each one is like the inside of an egg. In the beginning, the inside of an egg is white and yellow. Right now, everyone is like this white and yellow. Later, when the yolk develops inside, you can pick up the egg and hear a ‘beep-beep-beep’ sound inside. This is the moment when the egg cracks open and a chick emerges. Saying ‘five flavours’ sounds a bit strange. In Japanese, ‘gomi’ means flavour. But it is difficult to explain the meaning. In meditation and kyudo, you have the chance to have a beautiful heart. Anyone can make up a beautiful face. Sometimes women use make-up, or a man puts on a suit and shows an elegant style. But inside, there is a question mark. I hope you can create a good mind and a good heart through meditation and Kyudo.

Peter Fokkens

For experienced Oko students, ‘flavour’ is a word with a special meaning. Kanjuro Shibata XX Sendai referred to ‘the five flavours’ from time to time, but was never clear about their nature and how to experience them when practising. The five flavours are therefore a kind of ‘best-kept secret’ of kyudo. It was only shortly before his death that Sendai gave a hint that the five flavours might be connected in some way to the energy of the five Buddha families. For some of us, this only added to the mystery. For others, it was a moment of enlightenment. Being intrigued by Sendai's statement, I tried to learn more about it.

More often than referring to the five flavours, Sendai would explain a particular position or movement with an analogy or metaphor. Over the years, I discovered that these analogies reveal a lot about the energy associated with a particular movement or position, and perhaps even something about the ‘flavour’ of that movement. At the 2020 programme in Dechen Chöling, I was invited to share my thoughts on this. So I put them down on paper and we had a lively discussion about it. Long after the programme, I decided to put them down on paper again and try to connect the dots that were still open for me. That led to this personal account of ‘my flavour of Kyudo’.

Just to be clear, I give you this disclaimer: since any interpretation of the deeper aspects of Kyudo is personal, this text is not to be confused with any kind of generalisable ‘truth’; my sharing of these insights is merely an attempt to establish a lively conversation, not to make a statement. After all, you can't argue about taste, can you?

Not being a Sangha member or familiar with Buddhist teachings, I soon took Sendai's comment about the five Buddha families for what it was: an insider's reference. The subject continues to fascinate me, but it is for others to say more about it, if at all. In this text, I will limit myself to descriptions that, at best, do not contradict the ideas of more committed students.

I have some clear associations with the seven coordinates in Kyudo practice. These run parallel to the metaphors or analogies that Sendai uses to describe certain elements of the seven coordinates. In the next sections I will go through the Sishido coordinates and combine them with these metaphors and analogies that I have integrated into my Kyudo practice.Since I am still a beginner, I don't claim to be aware of the energy associated with the analogies at every step, but in my better moments they are almost tangible.

We begin our Sishido practice with Yo-i, a moment of contemplation. I use this moment to clear the mind and get a sense of the space around me.

When transitioning from Yo-I to Yumi Daoshi, you can simply raise and lower Yumi and Ya, but I was taught to make a wider movement with my arms, almost like in an embrace. The related analogy is that I pick up my emotional/mental baggage and place it on the floor in front of me, at the top of the yumi. Once I have made ashibumi, I lift my yumi with a short, decisive gesture to ‘sweep away all obstacles, all mental baggage’.In this way, clearing the mind becomes a more conscious action.

In the Ashibumi, when I take the steps, I turn my head towards the target with a curious look, as if listening to the faint sound of a distant temple bell. Then I let my gaze fall calmly, as if watching the slow descent of a snowflake or a cherry blossom to the ground.I feel curiosity, surprise and expectation.When my gaze reaches the ground, a different energy comes to the fore. This is described as ‘drawing the line’, associated with the chalk line that the carpenter draws between two points and then ‘whips’ to show an imprint of the line on the floor.This line is most clearly emphasised in sumi, the movement in hitote, when we align our body and yumi with this line.

Although sumi reflects a moment of full awareness, the steps in ashibumi are not those of a person who carefully places his feet, observes them and corrects them when necessary.
Ashibumi, as explained in the Shi Kan No Sho, is ‘placing the feet in the dark’: the alignment must be felt in the body, not observed with the eyes, and is therefore an act of intuition rather than one of sight.For this reason, my ‘flavour’ of Ashibumi is one of hope and expectation.The emotional value is that I make a connection with what is outside of me and calls me to action.At the same time, this energy invites me to embrace all the elements I will encounter with ‘curious equanimity’.

Dozukuri, the connection between heaven and earth, is described as the energy of a tree that is rooted in the ground and at the same time gives its branches and leaves room to move freely. I root my feet in the ground, tense the muscles in my buttocks and pelvis and at the same time give space to the movements of the upper body by lifting the yumi, placing the ya on the tsuru (yatsugai), then focussing on rooting again and then placing the right hand on the tsuru (torikake).

In the movements of dozukuri, I connect heaven and earth and take a position in the centre, unattached but not ignorant of what is happening around me. In this sense, the ‘movements without a name’ are: - moving the yumi to the centre of my body - yatsugai - resting - torikake - holding my arms in the form of a circle (the great Wa, or circle of peace), all different actions that I perform with equanimity, as well as with discriminating awareness. The ‘flavour’ of the tree, with its roots and waving branches and leaves, is one of self-awareness. Dozukuri is the best: mindfulness in dealing with my motor memory.When practising synchronised shooting, Dozukuri also challenges me to be aware of myself and what is happening around me; to feel a comprehensive awareness.

The transition from dozukuri to yumi gamae or yugamae is a change from equanimity to passion. This change is almost like entering a completely different realm.The energy shifts from earth to fire.The key element in this shift is my gaze.I turn my head towards the target and at the same time move the yumi towards the target, my arms still round as if in an embrace. This time, my gaze is not curious and expectant as with Ashibumi or attentive and unaffected as with Dozukuri.The way I look at the target should now be that of a ‘tiger looking at a rabbit’, as Sendai used to call it.The ‘flavour’ of this gaze is tense, alert, penetrating, one of excited surprise, almost similar to a first strike of love.

Uchiokoshi is often described as the movement of an element just a little lighter than water that has been submerged deeply but is now slowly floating to the surface. The suggestion of love that is yugamae is now emerging into a tense reality. In Uchiokoshi, the grip of my left hand around the yumi is straining.I have to strain to make the shot work.(Infatuation often goes hand in hand with different and even contradictory emotions).At the last stage of Yugamae, I rotate my left hand around the handle until it is between my thumb and index finger.With the little finger I control the balance of the yumi and I equalise the strength of the grip of this little finger with that of the right hand.This is the preparation for tenuichi or tiger mouth, where I hold the yumi with the firm soft grip of a mother tiger holding her cub in her mouth.As I raise my hands, the left hand reaches the position of tsuru no kubi, the crane's neck.Just to the left of this hand is the target, which I am still looking at with the eye of a tiger.In uchiokoshi, it is important that the ya remains almost horizontal: a drop of water hanging in the centre of the ya should slowly run down to the tip.This is because the Heki ryu shooting style requires ‘zen ken hikuku, ko ken kakaku’: the right shoulder is slightly higher than the left.

The ‘flavour’ of Uchiokoshi is one of passionate awareness, tension and emergence, like the stillness before an approaching thunderstorm: the moments before the first rumble of thunder and lightning strike. In a few seconds, the first liberating gust of wind will release me from this tension, but for now, nature holds its breath.

In the hikitori, in the pushing and pulling of the yumi and tsuru to full extension, a whole new feeling is expressed. Passion opens up and goes beyond the point of no return. Pushing the yumi forward with the left hand is like setting a straight course to the target; pulling the kake hand in a wide arc over my head is like painting a rainbow in the sky.In my experience, hikitori strongly evokes the energy pair of hope and fear that is central to kyudo: the hope that my shot will go well and I will hit the target, and the fear of failure and exposure, much like the emotions associated with falling in love.In hikitori, all these distracting emotions that I want to leave behind are fully present.However, another feeling is even stronger.Hikitori is like blowing up a balloon: I expand my energy not just in two directions, but in all directions to the maximum and stop just before the explosion.This is a feeling of joy.It's the feeling that in a few seconds everything will fall into place and fit together like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

The ‘taste’ of it is one of fulfilment, gratitude and joy. For me, this flavour, paradoxically mixed with that of hope and fear, is what brings Kyudo to life.

Kai, balance, represents the full move in which the five crosses (body-arms, yumi-ya, kake-hand tsuru, tenuichi-yumi, jugular vein tsuru) emerge from a stable, accomplished posture.Kai is of the utmost importance for good hanare, liberation.Without kai, my hanare will reflect all the unbalanced emotions present in yugamae, ushiokoshi and hikitori.Kai is the moment when I have to let them go and come to Mu, the nothingness.In this sense, Kai is the culmination of all that is Zen in Kyudo.Kai prevents premature letting go - which would show that I have not yet mastered my emotions and am still afraid of what I might see in the mirror of my shot.Having been told that Kai means ‘balance’, I associate this position with that idea, and that fully expresses the flavour of this coordination for me.

Kai is depicted with a fully drawn yumi, the archer's heart in the centre of five concentric circles. I associate this heart in the centre with both centred energy and space. In my view, this is similar to what Sendai often referred to as ‘Mu’, emptiness.He once said, ‘Kokoro is Mu,’ in response to a question about the open heart.He explained that the kyudo heart is not something you can point to, like the physical heart, and that ‘opening the heart’ is the same as ‘going to the centre of all-encompassing wisdom, where there is nothing but space: the absence of all downward pulling emotions in the true sense of Zen’.In this sense, Kai is a moment of complete stillness.

For me, Hanare, the letting go, reflects a combination of different energies. When letting go of the ya, we look into the mirror that is the mato, so we look ourselves directly in the face.Giving the final push, as if I am hitting two taiko drums at the same time, positioned almost out of reach of my two hands, is a special act: it is sharp, intense, violent, like an explosion.But it is also an act of courage: daring to stare into the mirror and deeply inspect what is there.It is an almost tangible feeling, like staring into the sharp cold of the eastern winter wind that freezes the water.Hanare can come with a kiai, the burst of physical energy that manifests itself in a grunt-like cry. Although in my experience the kiai is not necessary for a good hanare, the kiai, and therefore the hanare itself, reflects the energy of the archer: accomplished, unattached, confident, eager, proud, fearful, aggressive, passionate or even ignorant.

The heart needed to look in the mirror is also the heart needed to achieve a result.As Kanjuro Shibata XXI Sensei once said, referring to a famous saying of his father: ‘’The goal does not interfere' does not mean that you should miss it.’Ya is not directed to nowhere.It takes heart to practise, over and over again, until the result is noticeable.As Sendai used to say: ‘Don't be a three-day monk; play!’The moment of hanare is short and clear, but difficult to grasp. In the hanare, it becomes clear what tenuichi means. Sendai compared it to the grip of a bird sitting on a wire. To relax, the bird only grabs the wire when it needs to, well enough to restore its balance, but so short and crisp that it does not disturb its relaxation. It is this grip, he always said, that we should practise in hanare and, as he used to say, ‘Sharp hanare number one’ (a sharp hanare is the best).

Hanare is also described as the moment when you open your heart. For me, this is the wind energy of hanare. In my best moments, it feels like I'm pushing open the doors to an all-encompassing space. In the hanare, my heart becomes one with this space and dissolves into Mu. A good hanare gives me the flavour of the sky opening up with a lightning strike. It is a flavour of freedom and space, similar to the energy of the eastern summer wind that brings warmth under a cloudless sky.

Zanshin, the final stage, represents for me the savouring of Hanare: the enjoyment of Mu. Hanare shows us the result of our absorption, and in doing so it challenges us to remain unaffected by what we see. Sendai never said much about zanshin as long as I knew him. What is there to say about Mu? But during training it is a moment of extreme importance for me. The visible result of my punch immediately provokes my mind to start racing; analysing, rationalising, justifying, correcting, planning the next punch. But if I manage to switch off these distractions, Zanshin allows me to stay in Mu for a while and celebrate silently, no matter what the outcome of my shot. Even if my previous stances were not mindless, at least this moment can be mindless and mindful at the same time. In this sense, zanshin is my gateway to all-encompassing wisdom. ‘Too much thinking!’, Sendai often said when a punch wasn't perfect. I always try to remember this when Zanshin kicks in and try not to think at all for a short while.

‘Too much explanation!’ could be the reaction to this text. Maybe that's true. Anyway, since Sendai's passing, I've been talking with my best friends in the Kyudo family about how to preserve his legacy - spiritually and otherwise. This has proven to be a very difficult question to answer, not to mention whether this would be a task for some or a task for many. But leaving the question altogether is not satisfying to my warrior heart, so I have shared my own answer, which is to share my deepest Kyudo experiences with others in the hope that they will do the same. In this way, I hope to learn more and more about Kyudo and help keep alive the energy that has and continues to bring the Kyudo family together with a like-minded spirit, lots of warmth and a truly open heart.

The ‘technical’ details of the seven emotions can be found here.

by Shibata Kanjuro XX, Sendai, excerpts from an interview

For beginners, the ‘Seven Coordinations’ are the foundation of kyudo.Beginners should reflect on every single shot.In sports, there are competitions, winners and losers.This does not apply to kyudo.Kyudo is based on ‘issha’, on the idea of ‘one-shot’.Reflection is the main thing.You think about the technique first.Working on the ‘Seven Coordinations’ refines the technique: if you don't stop working on the technique, you begin to encounter the ‘Seven Emotions’ of the mind.The way to work with these emotions is the way of the bow, Kyudo.This way, ‘do’ is without end.Practising never ends and begins anew with every shot.

Even though kyudo can be practised from a distance of two metres, it means nothing to hit the target.Most beginners forget this and think too hard about the target.It is not important where the arrow flies.This is just a reflection of accuracy of technique and clarity of mind.

You are not shooting at the target. If you stick to the ‘Seven Coordinations’, the arrow will fly to the target just as if it had a mind of its own.It is not ‘you’ that shoots at the target; the right mind and the right heart, not just the right form, shoot at the target.This right mind arises from the ‘Seven Coordinations’, reflecting both accuracy in technique and the seven emotions.

The ultimate goal in Kyudo is to polish your spirit.It is the same as in zazen.You are not polishing your style of shooting, but the spirit. The dignity of shooting is the most important point.Without the right spirit, this dignity cannot be achieved, no matter how long you have been shooting.

The following lecture was given in May 1985 by Shibata Kanjuro XX, Sendai to the Kyoto Dharma Study Group on the occasion of the presentation of a Hama Yumi, which he gave to the group as a gift. A Hama Yumi is a special bow used for purification rituals.

Have a good afternoon. This is the best time of year in Kyoto. How is your spirit? Is everyone happy? Today my talk is about Kyudo and the Hama Yumi. These ideas have been passed down from the past, but I will also talk about some of my own thoughts. Western archery is based on the idea of hitting the target. There is no other reason to do this.

Western bows are made very scientifically for this exact purpose. Japanese bows, on the other hand, are made from bamboo that is cut by humans. As they are made naturally, no two of them are the same, each one is different. Making a yumi is very difficult, and stringing a yumi is also very difficult. In western archery, there are also steps to draw the bow, but the goal is completely different.

Kyudo is very difficult, but it makes no difference whether you hit the target or not. In ancient Japan, kyudo was the highest form of etiquette. A samurai also had to know the proper etiquette related to the art of sword fighting, horsemanship and the spear. Firearms were introduced to Japan in Nobunaga's time. They were more accurate, but made a lot of noise when fired. The yumi was silent and you never knew where the arrow came from, so the Tokugawa shogun banned the use of the yumi in battle. As a result, the yumi became a means of spiritual discipline and learning etiquette.

It was also during this time that the Hama Yumi was created.
The hama yumi, or the yumi that destroys evil, is used as a means of purification.To purify the environment and one's own mind.The Buddhist image of Amitabha is sometimes depicted holding a Yumi and a Ya.Why is the Buddhist ideal of peace and compassion associated with violent weapons?Because they are not weapons of violence.They are weapons of purification.
About 700 years ago, a demon appeared in the imperial palace. He came out at night and made the emperor fall ill. An excellent archer named Yorimasu Minamoto was sent to the palace, and he killed the demon with his first shot. The emperor regained his health and Yorimasu was promoted. This was the origin of the Hama Yumi.

What can we learn from the Hama Yumi?
They are there to purify the mind.The Shihoborai (a special purification ceremony) was originally performed with Hama Yumi.Everyone is surrounded by ‘hungry ghosts’ - temptations, desires, negative thoughts and so on.The Ha-Ya, the first arrow, is there to drive out these hungry ghosts.The Oto-Ya, the second arrow, is a symbol of welcoming happiness because you have been purified.
How does all this relate to Kyudo?Kyudo is based on strict rules of etiquette.It is a competition with yourself.In sports you try to win, but Kyudo is not like that.The target is not a target.It is the mirror of your own mind.
People have seven basic emotions or defilements. Happiness, anger, greed, expectation, sadness, fear and astonishment. The goal of Kyudo is to cut through these defilements in order to experience Mu, emptiness.

Many people practise meditation, but after fifteen or twenty minutes they become restless and want to finish. Kyudo is Zen while standing. All these hopes and desires and thinking while stretching the yumi, such as ‘I want to hit the target, I want to have a beautiful style’, will cause the ya to fly in a completely different direction.

Know yourself. Recognise your mind first, and then you can practice Kyudo. If your mind is right, you will hit the target naturally. It's like this in your whole life, not just in kyudo. If you are always thinking about the goal or the result, nothing good can come of it. On the other hand, if you always look at yourself first - your own feet, your own foundation, then things will naturally fall into place.

The word ‘do’ in Kyudo means ‘way’. It is difficult to talk about this idea of ‘do’. Practising the way of Kyudo is very difficult, although people think it is easy. The same goes for the way of flowers, tea and so on. The practice of ‘do’ has no concept of a goal. The kind of kyudo I want you to understand is not based on getting better and better. This discipline is a means of purifying or polishing one's mind through self-reflection.

Life seems very long, but it is very short. It is over in the blink of an eye. Hansei is the process of looking back on one's life. You reflect on your own actions. America and Europe are highly industrialised. Traditionally, the peoples of the East have been more concerned with the development of the inner life, the spirit. Do you think we live in a happy age? Computers, televisions - we have many such things. Our food and coffee is convenience food, but does it taste good? Although we have scientific devices all around us, something is missing. Aren't people forgetting their own mental and spiritual development?

I think human society has forgotten the heart and mind. Beautiful mountains are being destroyed. The trees and the earth are taken away and big buildings are put in their place. I think the mountains are crying. The mountains say, ‘Why are people chopping off my head and my arms?’ Sometimes the mountains get angry. When rain falls, the water rushes down and causes landslides. For the sake of future generations, shouldn't we pay more attention to the spirit? In ancient times, people used to walk everywhere. Now we even drive short distances by car to go shopping. Does that really make sense? Shouldn't we think a little more about these things that are happening in the modern world?

I am very glad that you came on such a beautiful May afternoon to listen to my somewhat strange speech. I hope from the bottom of my heart that you all achieve happiness. Thank you very much. I am used to speaking at universities where people do not listen to me quite so sincerely.