Musings on Form: The Beginner's Stance
One foot in front of the other, knees loose and slightly bent. The back is straight, with the shoulders relaxed. Sword in front, and always pointed at the neck of the foe. Both hands hold the hilt: dominant hand in the front, leading the weaker - yet in truth, the roles are reversed, with the front merely the force of the swing, and the back the actual guide.
It is a stance of both unity and harmony. One need only look to the movement for the former - the whole body goes at the whims of the blade, and with it, the weight of the swing. The latter is in the details of the act - the hands compensates for their strengths and weaknesses, as well the feet. Everything has their place, their role in the moment it takes to strike.
In my roaming of the West, the act of wielding with two hands is mostly left to the company of brutes - finesse and technique are but an afterthought, replaced with savage fury and strength. It is wild and unpredictable, and in times risks danger to the wielder in exchange for a chance to strike.
And yet, this merits a closer look.
The style of the warrior reflects the people and times they live with. That of a bushi speaks of an old tradition, a steady art with countless years poured into its making, its dogma. But that in itself is a lethal hubris - no matter the strength of its making, none outside the Nine and their cohorts is fated to last forever. While the style of the East has its uses, it is set in its ways, and thus predictable, doomed to stagnation until finally broken by the changing of the tide.
Having felt this, it is as if the Way has called for a need to ascend the art. And to do so, one must break the mold, and look to the looming uncertainty as the key.
Excerpts from a Swordmistress - Tsukumo's Journal
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Kayle Walker
- Posts: 93
- Joined: Sun Dec 27, 2020 1:41 pm
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Kayle Walker
- Posts: 93
- Joined: Sun Dec 27, 2020 1:41 pm
Re: Excerpts from a Swordmistress - Tsukumo's Journal
Musings on Style: The Dance
Tendu. Degage. Rond de jambe.
Three words one would hardly associate with combat.
And yet these three are the first lessons I was taught in my new life as a student of the Bladestone. Not of any kata or maneuver, but dance - the sort one would see in festivals and theatre. The man called Adrian spoke of things familiar to me, of balance, awareness, and poise; true enough, these are things a warrior must be mindful of, and it is also true that dancing warriors have been spoken of even in the east. But such were, at least until today, tales of fancy: the sort that would make for a riveting read, but often would prove awkward - and oftentimes dangerous - in practice.
And yet Adrian's blades spoke for themselves. His movements were fluid, his form elusive to my sword, despite wielding far smaller weapons. I spoke of uncertainty as key to change, and indeed, I see no similarity yet between our styles. But that is a mystery worth solving, for the secrets it holds may simply be out of reach for now.
Tendu. Degage. Rond de jambe.
Three words one would hardly associate with combat.
And yet these three are the first lessons I was taught in my new life as a student of the Bladestone. Not of any kata or maneuver, but dance - the sort one would see in festivals and theatre. The man called Adrian spoke of things familiar to me, of balance, awareness, and poise; true enough, these are things a warrior must be mindful of, and it is also true that dancing warriors have been spoken of even in the east. But such were, at least until today, tales of fancy: the sort that would make for a riveting read, but often would prove awkward - and oftentimes dangerous - in practice.
And yet Adrian's blades spoke for themselves. His movements were fluid, his form elusive to my sword, despite wielding far smaller weapons. I spoke of uncertainty as key to change, and indeed, I see no similarity yet between our styles. But that is a mystery worth solving, for the secrets it holds may simply be out of reach for now.
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Kayle Walker
- Posts: 93
- Joined: Sun Dec 27, 2020 1:41 pm
Re: Excerpts from a Swordmistress - Tsukumo's Journal
Musings on Style: The Puzzle of Rhythm
I had the good fortune to finally meet my instructor, one of the elven race with the name Lily (her true name is strange on my tongue, and eludes me for now). It is apparent from her initial enthusiasm that she is one who devotes herself fully to her dance. It then comes a surprise (or perhaps an explanation?) that she knew of the style of Kara-Tur, and a larger surprise that another bushi had made his way to the far west, and was the teacher of my teacher - a playful trick of the Nine, I gather, that my path led me following that of another's.
Eager as she was, we started our first lesson. Not on the training grounds, but sitting down in the tavern, speaking of the discipline like scholars. She spoke of one secret behind the elaborate movements of the dance: that of momentum. While I had surmised that it had an influence to the elusiveness of their motions, Lily explained further that it was in the spinning and seemingly-superfluous twirls that fighters like her find the force behind their strikes - quite unlike a woodsman rearing back to fell a tree (or a swordswoman of my discipline), who finds her purchase from the earth. While it may be impossible to wholly rely on such with a heavier weapon like a katana, it may be possible to find a compromise between the earthbound and the windborne.
Our meeting ended with another puzzle, however. Lily spoke of a partner for momentum - tempo (I later found out this as another word for rhythm). She taps on the wood with her finger as she closed her eyes, and seemed to describe a battle with each drum on the wood, like she was seeing it in her mind. It was here that I found myself confused - it was one thing to image movements one would mimic as training, but another to see battle play out purely from imagination. Battle by its nature is uncertain, the outcomes only seen by overcoming it. Is it truly possible to enforce the rhythm of a dance into combat?
I had the good fortune to finally meet my instructor, one of the elven race with the name Lily (her true name is strange on my tongue, and eludes me for now). It is apparent from her initial enthusiasm that she is one who devotes herself fully to her dance. It then comes a surprise (or perhaps an explanation?) that she knew of the style of Kara-Tur, and a larger surprise that another bushi had made his way to the far west, and was the teacher of my teacher - a playful trick of the Nine, I gather, that my path led me following that of another's.
Eager as she was, we started our first lesson. Not on the training grounds, but sitting down in the tavern, speaking of the discipline like scholars. She spoke of one secret behind the elaborate movements of the dance: that of momentum. While I had surmised that it had an influence to the elusiveness of their motions, Lily explained further that it was in the spinning and seemingly-superfluous twirls that fighters like her find the force behind their strikes - quite unlike a woodsman rearing back to fell a tree (or a swordswoman of my discipline), who finds her purchase from the earth. While it may be impossible to wholly rely on such with a heavier weapon like a katana, it may be possible to find a compromise between the earthbound and the windborne.
Our meeting ended with another puzzle, however. Lily spoke of a partner for momentum - tempo (I later found out this as another word for rhythm). She taps on the wood with her finger as she closed her eyes, and seemed to describe a battle with each drum on the wood, like she was seeing it in her mind. It was here that I found myself confused - it was one thing to image movements one would mimic as training, but another to see battle play out purely from imagination. Battle by its nature is uncertain, the outcomes only seen by overcoming it. Is it truly possible to enforce the rhythm of a dance into combat?
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Kayle Walker
- Posts: 93
- Joined: Sun Dec 27, 2020 1:41 pm
Re: Excerpts from a Swordmistress - Tsukumo's Journal
Musings on Form: The First Step
As the Bladestone has been a crossroads of activity of late, I have been left to my own devices for some time. But my first real session with Miss Lily had finally arrived, and with it, the hard realization of what reinventing oneself truly implies.
To start, instruction; Miss Lily provided me with books on dances of different cultures, each with their connection to her own style.
Ballet, the Dervish's Dance, and flamenco - three words that would most likely mean the world to me in the foreseeable future... or so I had thought.
Miss Lily revealed the basics behind her dance-like movements: the pointe and plie.
Eastern swordsmanship had always taught that the strength behind one's swing came from ki from the earth, traveling from the feet, vaulted by the knees, carried through the back and the shoulders, and swung down by one's arms. The dance had all of those, as she explained, in some shape or form, save for one key difference - all the ki one needed to start the myriad of steps... came from the toes. It was in this concentration of ki - this refusal to be grounded on two feet - that allowed one to take to the air, and put resolve to movements most would consider weightless or whimsical.
I somewhat understood. But to visualize such is one thing, but to attempt it is very much another thing entirely. And attempt I did.
It boggles the mind to know how such small digits can leverage the entire body, or how they can cause such profound pain. The former, I have seen Miss Lily prove... and the latter I have discovered personally. To find one's self collapsed on the stone of the training grounds from practicing the smallest of movements is a humbling experience - I have ever considered myself ever a student of the blade, but up until that point have forgotten how it is to truly start from the beginning.
I do not believe this has dampened my enthusiasm, but the lessons this day have at least revealed the path in front of me... and it is looking the long, arduous sort.
As the Bladestone has been a crossroads of activity of late, I have been left to my own devices for some time. But my first real session with Miss Lily had finally arrived, and with it, the hard realization of what reinventing oneself truly implies.
To start, instruction; Miss Lily provided me with books on dances of different cultures, each with their connection to her own style.
Hidden: show
Ballet, the Dervish's Dance, and flamenco - three words that would most likely mean the world to me in the foreseeable future... or so I had thought.
Miss Lily revealed the basics behind her dance-like movements: the pointe and plie.
Eastern swordsmanship had always taught that the strength behind one's swing came from ki from the earth, traveling from the feet, vaulted by the knees, carried through the back and the shoulders, and swung down by one's arms. The dance had all of those, as she explained, in some shape or form, save for one key difference - all the ki one needed to start the myriad of steps... came from the toes. It was in this concentration of ki - this refusal to be grounded on two feet - that allowed one to take to the air, and put resolve to movements most would consider weightless or whimsical.
I somewhat understood. But to visualize such is one thing, but to attempt it is very much another thing entirely. And attempt I did.
Hidden: show
Hidden: show
Hidden: show
Hidden: show
It boggles the mind to know how such small digits can leverage the entire body, or how they can cause such profound pain. The former, I have seen Miss Lily prove... and the latter I have discovered personally. To find one's self collapsed on the stone of the training grounds from practicing the smallest of movements is a humbling experience - I have ever considered myself ever a student of the blade, but up until that point have forgotten how it is to truly start from the beginning.
I do not believe this has dampened my enthusiasm, but the lessons this day have at least revealed the path in front of me... and it is looking the long, arduous sort.
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Kayle Walker
- Posts: 93
- Joined: Sun Dec 27, 2020 1:41 pm
Re: Excerpts from a Swordmistress - Tsukumo's Journal
Purpose
It has been close to three summers past since I left home to find my place in the Way, to find what change I can bring about. Hard was the journey, many were the tribulations, but true was I to the path I chose. I still am.
And then, the very heavens came crashing down.
The Way teaches one of a universe in constant flux; each part and player, no matter how great or small, is connected to the rest, and with each action and inaction, brings about inevitable change. To see cataclysms of such scale, to see the very air and earth rent and twisted about unpredictably, it dwarfed any and all aspiration, any notion of dreams. In the face of such events, it is hard not to think that this is such a final catalyst. It is hard not to think to simply embrace it, even if it means one's end.
And yet, I see those who struggle against the current. Those who were not born to pick up the sword, who followed oaths of their own beliefs, regardless of order or direction. To see them fight and claw despite their shortcomings shamed me. I have chosen to only see the sword as an art, a thing to be mastered for its own sake. But can one still say that when faced with a reality such as this?
Strength and ability that cannot be used when the times demand it may very well be not there at all. Perhaps the change I was meant to do lies in this chaos - to perfect my own blade for the defense of others, to stand in the face of this storm, and the ones that would follow it.
It has been close to three summers past since I left home to find my place in the Way, to find what change I can bring about. Hard was the journey, many were the tribulations, but true was I to the path I chose. I still am.
And then, the very heavens came crashing down.
The Way teaches one of a universe in constant flux; each part and player, no matter how great or small, is connected to the rest, and with each action and inaction, brings about inevitable change. To see cataclysms of such scale, to see the very air and earth rent and twisted about unpredictably, it dwarfed any and all aspiration, any notion of dreams. In the face of such events, it is hard not to think that this is such a final catalyst. It is hard not to think to simply embrace it, even if it means one's end.
And yet, I see those who struggle against the current. Those who were not born to pick up the sword, who followed oaths of their own beliefs, regardless of order or direction. To see them fight and claw despite their shortcomings shamed me. I have chosen to only see the sword as an art, a thing to be mastered for its own sake. But can one still say that when faced with a reality such as this?
Strength and ability that cannot be used when the times demand it may very well be not there at all. Perhaps the change I was meant to do lies in this chaos - to perfect my own blade for the defense of others, to stand in the face of this storm, and the ones that would follow it.
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Kayle Walker
- Posts: 93
- Joined: Sun Dec 27, 2020 1:41 pm
Re: Excerpts from a Swordmistress - Tsukumo's Journal
Musings on Form: The Dance Takes Shape
A person's ability to adapt to circumstance is a thing of wonder. One need only look at the current calamity to see some find a sense of normalcy in the chaos. Myself and the rest of the Bladestone found ourselves compromising with the times. Often we were away securing the roads, helping wherever we can, however we can. And despite the difficulties, the work felt a fitting distraction in itself; I felt the morale of most of the others improve, if at least not worsen any further.
For my part, my training with Miss Lily went on, interspersed within patrols as much as the training grounds. Sleep and comfort were often the price, but there is something to be said in honing one's skills in times of turmoil. Aside from the lessons about other facets of self-defense, my forays into ballet have finally progressed to a point to find some ease in it. Naturally, I was more than eager to figure a way to marry it with my traditional form.
I found an answer - or at least part of it. And with it, came more questions than ever.
The swings of a blade indeed had a place in a dance. But I can only see the first few steps in my mind, and perform even less. But while I cannot see its form in its entirety, I can feel its potential well enough. Stumble as I have to start, I still managed to reach the first steps. Even now, I find myself relishing the challenge that awaited me. I feel my mentor share in my enthusiasm, and proposed we move to a dance that may prove to be the answer to this riddle of blades - that of the Dervish.
A person's ability to adapt to circumstance is a thing of wonder. One need only look at the current calamity to see some find a sense of normalcy in the chaos. Myself and the rest of the Bladestone found ourselves compromising with the times. Often we were away securing the roads, helping wherever we can, however we can. And despite the difficulties, the work felt a fitting distraction in itself; I felt the morale of most of the others improve, if at least not worsen any further.
For my part, my training with Miss Lily went on, interspersed within patrols as much as the training grounds. Sleep and comfort were often the price, but there is something to be said in honing one's skills in times of turmoil. Aside from the lessons about other facets of self-defense, my forays into ballet have finally progressed to a point to find some ease in it. Naturally, I was more than eager to figure a way to marry it with my traditional form.
I found an answer - or at least part of it. And with it, came more questions than ever.
Hidden: show
The swings of a blade indeed had a place in a dance. But I can only see the first few steps in my mind, and perform even less. But while I cannot see its form in its entirety, I can feel its potential well enough. Stumble as I have to start, I still managed to reach the first steps. Even now, I find myself relishing the challenge that awaited me. I feel my mentor share in my enthusiasm, and proposed we move to a dance that may prove to be the answer to this riddle of blades - that of the Dervish.