Fidgeting

Friday tomorrow! 

Today is my last day of work before the long drive from Sydney to Melbourne, with 880-ish kilometres before we end up falling off the edge of the New South Wales map and into foreign soil.  “Here there be dragons” is the phrase that springs to mind.  Well, in actual fact they’ll be Victorians (or Mexicans, as they are known by in Australia, as they hail from “south of the border”.  Incidentally, I’ll be representing New South Wales.  We’ve an unpalatable nickname of “Cockroaches”.  I’ll be a pommie cockroach – the worst imaginable kind.  I’ll be a sort of hard-to-kill whinge-ing insect that loves to float around in warm, flat beer.)

This will be my last blog before the big week.  I don’t know how else to prepare, had my last training session last night, so now I’m fidgeting.  What’s that little thing for which they pay me?  Oh yes, work.  It ain’t being done until the effects of coffee wear off.

It looks like the Zen Nihon Kendo Renmei bigwigs in Japan have decided everyone wielding a Japanese sword or 128cm stick must also learn kendo-no-kata and this decree will be introduced as part of the National Seminar next week.  Kendo no kata is, literally, sets and forms from Kendo.   Years and years ago, when the world was preserved in black and white daguerreotype photography and I still possessed hair, I practiced this as a roving kendoka.  God I recall the days from the mid to late 1970’s when I made pilgrimages from Plymouth up to where the big dojos were in London, Bristol and the like.  I was still an apprentice Fitter/Turner working for Her Majesty in Devonport Dockyard.  First paypacket was a little over £9 in new money.  (Old, real, money disappeared from circulation in 1971 and it meant real pounds, shillings and pence.  The casual reader might discern from this a certain reverence for ten-bob notes, thrupenny bits, tanners and half crowns.)  

Not only am I physically fidgeting I’m also tangentially shifting off rehearsing some ‘old-person’ rambling for later. 

Anyway, as I was saying.  Pilgrimages to London.  What used to happen on a regular basis was I’d throw a sickie at Friday before lunch, dash to Plymouth Coach Station and hop on a coach for the 250 miles to London.  This eventually dropped me off at Victoria Coach Station at about four-ish which then meant navigating over to Goldsmith’s College for a bashing by Kate Bush’s brother, John Bush.  Collecting my wits I then caught the bus to Nenriki Dojo at the Elephant and Castle.  Biggest Kendo dojo in the UK.  Home of the Gods.  They flogged me senseless and, happy as Larry after sharing a warm-flat beer or three with them afterwards,  I then dragged myself onto a late night bus to stay with a female friend in Dulwich, South London. 

Yes, Fridays could tax your teenage energies to the full.

No, it isn’t a Daguerreotype. Not even a Kodak Box Brownie.  But it is from a seminar held by Sugo Sensei in Bristol during July 1976.  Zanshin isn’t too bad (I ‘do’ zanshin ok) but the bokken grip is terrible.  As are the sideburns.

National Seminar (2)

Being the obsessive-compulsive person I am it will come as no personal shock to admit I must (but not always do) perform reasonably well in big tournaments.  There are two allied reasons for this – practice – way over and above the usual once-or-twice-a-week diet of people who have lives; and stubbornness.  They bring distinct (perhaps even unfair) advantages.

This point two years ago in 2009 was about the time of my first Iaido tournament as a lowly kyu-grade.  All fingers and thumbs, I proceeded through to the semis and was beaten by the tournament’s eventual easy winner, Jarrod Sibbison.  He’s a sharp operator, injects his kata with precision and dignity.  One of life’s true naturals and destined to become an inspirational teacher in a few years.  As a quick aside, I should point out those who like entering tournaments usually observe their fellow peers who turn up for the Nationals and can assess their abilities.  I know for an absolute fact that within my grade band there are two damn good people hailing from Victoria: Ben Sawers and the abovementioned Jarrod.  Both from the same Iaido club that tends to win lots of silverware, taxing their Qantas baggage allowances to the full.

Well, you can add to the previous two names one Julia Chay.  I didn’t get the pleasure of meeting Jarrod or Ben in 2010 as they were in the opposite half of the tournament pool to me.  Julia’s half of the pool.  Julia disposed of both of them and, when lucky enough to scrape my way into the finals, I looked up and found her.  Bugger, where did she come from!!  Better luck in 2011.

This year I’m going to meet the same faces, with their ramped-up abilities and increased skills.  I’ve sussed out how Julia beat me, fixed some flaws, made some major improvements and this year I’m not taking prisoners.  Everyone will be put to the sword!  Exits, stage right to sounds of maniacal laughter…..

Probably go out in the first round instead………  

Victoria's Chikushinkai team.  Jarrod is 2nd from left and Ben is fourth.  Note the team's combined trophies from 2010.

National Seminar (1)

Today is Thursday 13^th January so we’ve 11 days left until the Australian National Iaido and Jodo Seminar starts in Melbourne.  Five days of intensive study under Oda and Nags et al then one day of championships followed by one day of gradings for those eligible.  I’ve been looking forward to this one for a long time - drooling even - but I’ll treat them all separately.

The Seminar

It’s just occurred to me (a few minutes ago, sitting on the loo if that’s an indicator of where I receive my inspiration) my expectations of what proportions of my learning will come from and from whom.  I should point out we are split into grade groups with the higher grades tending to be taken by the higher graded Japanese Sensei.  The absolute higher grade Sensei often wander round to “spot-check” on the other groups and occasionally intervene.

	For Iaido Shodan group
			% of seminar time	useful % learned
Proabable primary instructor			90%	10%
Yazawa (Iaido 6th Dan, Renshi)
Secondary Instructor (s)			10%	90%
Oda (8th Dan, Hanshi); Nagayama (7th Dan, Kyoshi) and Ohara (7th Dan, Kyoshi)
	For Jodo Shodan group
			% of seminar time	useful % learned
Proabable primary instructor			95%	5%
Yazawa (Jodo 4th Dan)
Secondary Instructor (s)			5%	95%
Nagayama (Jodo 7th Dan, Kyoshi) and Ohara (Jodo 6th Dan, Renshi)

Those not driven asleep will come to two conclusions.

1)      I don’t take much away from Yazawa’s instruction (we’ve ‘history’ because I’m a bolshi gaijin.  Moi???)

2)      Over 90% of my useful improvements will come from less than 10% of the week

Bottom line is I’m willing to put up with over 36 hours questionable dojo time for a little less than 4 hours useful content.  But there is rich value in that 4 hours and that’s what makes it worthwhile. 

Just had another insight.  Of that four hours, most of the improvements will come courtesy of Nags.  Yes, I'll pay in ritual humiliation and being shouted at but, in the words of Wollongong instructor Aden Steinke, "It's all good".

Blogs long enough so I’ll deal with my expectations of The Championships and Gradings later.

The Dark Side?

I count myself fortunate in that I can be single minded.  To me it’s a gift but I can imagine it borders on selfish obsession to anyone who has to put up with it.   For example, I was never a good runner but my single minded make-it-up-as-you-go-along program meant I was good as my physiology allowed and this meant sacrifices had to be made.  For this read sacrifices other people also had to make.  If I wanted to go out, at night, in the driving sleet of an English January as part of preparation for The London (aka London Marathon) then that’s what would happen.  Other pressing matters could wait.  It was an almost religious fervour that drove me and a severe catholic-guilt would punish me if I didn’t go out.  We’ve a good Irish friend called Rose who was and still is dating a triathlete.   Having some experience of my devotion to running she asked me pretty early on how to best deal with her partner’s obsession to train religiously.  My response to her was not to even try to change him.  It won’t be possible and attempts will be resented.  I’m pleased to say they’re still together but I can imagine she makes many sacrifices for him.

Time hasn’t really tempered this passion to achieve and so the downsides are still with me.  I hold with the utmost conviction that if something is worthy of attempting then it makes absolute sense to do it to the best of your abilities and devote the time.  For the life of me I don’t know where this ‘gift’ came from.  My parents were neither sporting, academic, nor achieved things of note in my formative years.  Maybe I’ll never know who inspired me.  Light or Dark side, it’s still a gift.

   

The final race in the Lanzarote 2001 series: The 23k Trans-Island.  If there was one race that defined what I was aiming for in training this was it.  Towards the end of the race I clocked up my one hundred miles for the week and yet the stamina and speed didn't falter.  Never felt better in a race and never would again (not that the rest were crap but the elation I felt during this race went far beyond any others).

The Abattoir

Right here and now I’d like to make it crystal clear I’m not a New South Wales Government employee.  I can confess to trying like the blazes a few years back to become one, but fate had other plans and I failed miserably, probably not proceeding beyond that horribly named Human Resource process known as “culling”.   I put it down to not selling myself too well or failing to over embellish my achievements: a Gen X pommie thing where it’s seen as hubris to talk yourself up.  Australians call the phenomenon “bignoting”.  Inflate what you’ve done in flowery language to appear impressive and worthy.  From my jaundiced perspective it seems accepted as a useful weapon within Generation Y’s arsenal these days.  I fail to understand if they wield that weapon cynically or the use is just accepted as a given.  In an age where it is not politically correct to be seen to discriminate on the basis of age it becomes a way HR can locate older applicants and herd them off for culling….

But this one escaped the abattoir.  Purely by an accident of history I do possess a particular niche skill-set my chosen Government department has decided they have need of.  They are prepared to pay a handsome premium to bring me in, on occasion, to look after certain projects – sometimes for years at a time.  Don’t get me started on the stagnant philosophy or the flawed economic reasons behind their approach but, suffice to say, I give them the best value I can and take personal ownership of my projects.  They pay me far too much and yet sometimes, not enough, if that makes sense?

The abattoir can wait for a while.

Site meetings, made civilised by decent coffee



Itchy feet

I really have two compeletly different and opposite views about coming back to Sydney.  OK, they're paying me handsomely to do so (bribery - oh, the shame) but I'd love to stay back on our little "farm" and keep building it, bit by bit.  My head is an engineer's but my heart belongs to our farm. 

One of the only (probably the only true) good thing about being back in the city is we (read 'I') can continue with our Jodo and Iaido studies.  I've really missed them over the Xmas break and, what with the Australian Nationals coming up at the end of the month, desperately feel the need for training.  I find myself practicing kata in my head at stupid, incongruous, times.  Disconcertingly I also find my right hand begins moving in that tale-tale manner for the first part of o-chiburi.  Tomorrow, Saturday, I can get my first fix.  Shinto Muso Ryu Jodo at Paul Maloney's Willoughby Dojo followed by a quick scoot over to Ruth's Seitei Iaido session at Pymble.

Klara thinks me obsessed...

Oh, if my head belongs to engineering and heart to farming, what part of me is martial arts?  Answer: my left foot.  Nagayama Sensei thinks I should tie a plough to it and drag it around my paddock.   Nice man.  I have much time for him.

On trying the new technology...

....he discovers it's not as easy as it looks.

I mean, you've got to be able to glue some words together in some coherent fashion and have something sensible to say.  For example,  there is a pommie blogger out there named Andy Watson who makes it all appear dead easy, has something meaningful to say and the webbloggy thing works.  A worthwhile diversion, if you have time and the interest, is Andy's blog based upon his working towards his 6th Dan in Seitei Iaido.

http://iaidojodotraining.blogspot.com/2010/10/iaido-training-session-26.html

Anyway, this blog is my journey in juggling time as a (poor) Australian farmer or a (relatively well-off) Government-agency Engineer.   My poor Wife, Klara, also has to put up with me spending a lot of our city spare time in the dojo practicing jodo and iaido.  She calls us jodo-hoes.  And indeed we are.