日本 and Beyond: Kyuudo Club

The first thing I noticed was it was cold. I had probably dressed inappropriately, as I wasnt even to the location and was already chilly. It was an interesting view as I walked down the path that arched its way around the target side of the Kyuudo training facilities. It was already mostly dark though barely 4:50 in the afternoon. The remaining light in the sky clung to the ridge for life, though it was fleating from since the day broke. The remaining warmth went with it. I stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets in a gesture to shake the cold, and approched the door.

The first day they were waiting for me. They made absolute sure I took off my shoes and knew where to put them before walking me to the training area. Everyone was wearng their formal wear, gi top and hakama, a long black skirt like bottomwear. When the women would shoot they even put on an extra breast plate, a black piece of leather called a Hakeane. Im guessing the purpose being to supress their bussom as the string flies. There was a main room, from which the team would shoot outside through a missing wall and a side room meant for practice. The main room was the dojo and had amazing wood floors and vaulted cielings, though I resided mostly in the side room as it were needing lots of practice. This room also happened to have a back door, permitting, those who were comfortable enough entrance. And it was still cold. The atmosphere from the outside had only changed by brightness level and the slightest bit of awkwardness as I received some quite long looks, standing out not only in my dress but in my obvious unfamiliarity with the place and the very mellow, controlled, respectful, space that everyone worked to keep. That is except me, the ignorant. It was very “Japanese” from the start. They treated me way too kindly, I wasnt allowed to do anything by myself, and rather ostracized from the group, though I must say Kyudo is a very personal “sport” if sport is even the right word. I didnt meet and wasnt introduced to anyone but the head club member the first time I walked through the door, a man by the name of Miyazaki.
I was curious about how things worked in regards to the subtle things I couldn't understand. Their practice consisted of mostly form type recidal. Do the motion, its never perfect, do it again: type mentality. Though it seemed those shooting, those not in the practice room, really did want to hit the target, the focus was more on the body, the steps, and even the small monor details of how to enter the room. I'm guessing there most definitely is a “propper” way to do almost everything. During one such practice a group of 4 walked in sequence to their shooting positions and proceeded in a “one at a time” one after another fasshion of stringing their arrows and firing down the rage, a distance of about 35 meters. A small girl, apparently leading the procession, stood in the owl cove at one side of the room, in the same line as the rest, diligently watching them line up, and shoot in turns from behind her very oval spectacles. She was cute but in a weird small way, the reason for looking probably being better said as that she was interesting rather than cute. Though of course these were not my interests I was more confused as to why she consistently, and with practiced control was paying no attention to the arrows. She literally never even turn her head right, the direction that the arrows flew. Instead she pointed out details I thought irrelivent, things that I thought quite literally had nothing to do with them shooting the bow. However this was from my perspective, and I'm sure in some respect helping them in their skills. This process took about 34 minutes. 4 people shooting four arrows each. They quite frankly took their sweet time, and most all of them missed. Granted the target was only about two feet in diameter.

I was also apparently brought tea. Though I was unaware. As the proximity of the tea to where I sit was rather ambiguous. I only realized because a shy looking boy, brought out a tray, felt the tea was cold, apologized perfucely and quickly rushed to take it into a back room. He soon returned with fresh hot tea. I later learned he was one of the newest members on the team and was charged on this first day to make me comfortable, which quite frankly made me feel very strange.
The only thing I participated in with others was the ending of a training period, which was about an hour. We would all sit in seiza, being very quite, the senpai would say some words, there would be a second or so of pause, and then everyone would say hai. And then run off to do their tasks. Of course when I asked to help I was told to relax and stay sitting. Which I honestly would have not helped at all, only muddled the oil of a well maintained machine. It was astounding the level of organization as the entire time I was there I didnt see one proper adult, or couch. At the end of the last formal class of the day, everyone would do this seiza-hai thing once more, which was held at a tatami matt space at the back of the hall, perpendicular to how the arrows fly, however once finished would form up again on the actual dojo floor instead of running and doing their chores, facing the owl cover. The seeting order was obviously fixed with the kohais in the rear. Some words would be said by the senpai, he would turn to the own cove, in unison they would all do the bow bow clap clapp bow performance, all from seiza, turning back to the kohai's, the senpai would say they are finished, and everyone would say thank you in unison. I of course was in the opposite corner contently watching.

And I wasnt upset with this. It was an amazing specticle. It truly felt like a glimpse into actual culture, something I rarely feel in America, the melting pot of cultures, or where culture go and melt. To be quite honest I never felt even the slightest bit a part of the club. All their hospitalities never once made me feel comfortable and instead actually pushed me to feel even more a uncomfortable stranger. However it was foolish to ever assume I ever even be looked at. This club wasnt about acceptance it was about support. And not support for eachother, but support for an idea. Here you worked dilligently not for acceptance, but to improve youself. You followed the rules dilligently not because of the consequestion, but to support an idea. There was a sense of belonging, that was very pure and ever foreign. And at this closing cerimony it all made sense. Here you put time and effort into belonging to an idea and respected those who had put more time and infort into it. It was not taught how to hit a target, here was taught tradition, hitting the target was just a bonus.