Kangeiko '11

It’s 4:30 am. I stumble from bed into the night, a ghost of sorts, gliding from room to room, preparing for the last of seven early-morning Aikido classes. The house is dark and quiet, but it is not empty. Its stillness offers up sounds, shadows, and spaces that my senses do not perceive during the day.  I drive to the dojo.  In the frigid air, sounds are muffled, and vapors funnel up from sewer grates and chimneys. There is not much traffic at this hour, and I am heartened by the beams of light that dart out from the occasional vehicle. We need to know we are not alone.  I silently thank those who rise early every day to prepare the city for the rest of us.

The sole car ahead of me pulls into the dojo parking lot: a fellow practitioner! Every morning for a week, we have all left our respective homes, scattered as they are throughout the city, and congregated here to attend Kangeiko. 

Kangeiko, which translates roughly into “cold weather training”, is a martial arts tradition that originated in Japan. It involves a period of intense practice that is scheduled in the early morning and usually extends over a period of one week. Practitioners welcome it as an opportunity to revitalize and invigorate the body, and to restore the soul. Typically, Kangeiko takes place around New Year, a time recognized by most cultures as being particularly auspicious for renewal. 

This year—2011, according to our Western calendar, and Lunar Year 4709 (the Year of the Rabbit) if you follow the Chinese zodiac—our Kangeiko ran from January 9-15.  According to the I Ching, in “the year of the Rabbit, without concentration, you will fail.” The past week has definitely been an exercise in concentration, setting the tone for a year of renewed focus, but what, exactly, have we all learned? 

There was a great deal of hard work, of course—warm ups, repeated frontward and backward rolls, and the drills associated with various techniques. During practice, the dojo came alive with the sounds of people taking falls and counting out sets. We practiced familiar techniques, and were reminded of the importance of getting the basics right.  Some of us were introduced to new techniques.  We all had an opportunity to better our skills. This year, Sensei (our teacher), invited us to make an effort to observe—to observe how a technique should be executed, as instructed; to observe how our fellow students executed it; and, most difficult of all, to observe our own selves, as we practiced. We were urged to “just do it”, and reminded that it is by living something that we really understand it—more than by listening, watching, or even reading. 

Most of us spent the week trying to acquire a mental image of each technique being studied.  As the week progressed, and as that mental image became somewhat sharper, we worked harder at recreating the technique as directed.  Some succeeded, while others learned that a tired body cannot always replicate what the mind’s eye sees. No matter—once rested, perhaps we will finally be able to execute the moves in a way that demonstrates our new-found understanding. We all know now that the point is not necessarily achieving a goal, but perhaps enjoying the process… of not achieving it. 

During the course of the week, many of us also realized the importance of relaxing both mind and body. Being stressed and tensing up is not conducive to carrying out effective and fluid movements. It is also very exhausting. The more senior students have learned this lesson well, and remember to relax and breathe as they go through their paces.  They manage their energy, metering it out in a way that will allow them to get through Kangeiko without expending every ounce of energy by mid-week.  Nor do they dwell on their aches and pains. To them, the challenge has become more mental than physical.  

During Kangeiko, both junior and senior belts had numerous occasions to train with one another.  This was beneficial for everyone concerned, as it provided an opportunity to try out the various techniques on students of varying build and stature. All the junior belts appreciated the patience and thoughtfulness of the senior belts in these circumstances.  They patiently endured the junior belts’ poorly—or badly—executed techniques, and generously shared their insights and understanding. 

The week was not all toil and turmoil. There were also plenty of opportunities for socializing.  Students had the option of sleeping at the dojo, which made both getting up early and showing up, somewhat easier. Evenings at the dojo were filled with chats, lively discussions, and stories that brought everyone closer and built camaraderie.  At the end of the last class, we enjoyed a communal breakfast. The food was delicious, and the conversation, both entertaining and enlightening.  This event also gave us a chance to share our thoughts and impressions about Kangeiko. With each personal account, we listened, laughed, commiserated, and delighted in our joint accomplishment. 

And that, perhaps more than the physical training itself, is what gives all its meaning to the word tradition, as it applies to Kangeiko. Like all traditions, Kangeiko is steeped in social interaction. Naturally, during such an intense week of training, the focus is on practicing both familiar and new Aikido techniques, but it is through social interaction that anecdotes are told, that our identity as a group takes shape, and that attitudes and values are passed on. 

 

 

Kangeiko requires dedication, adaptation, commitment, and perseverance. It is a challenge to our bodies and souls, and an opportunity to test our determination.  It also eliminates any illusions we might have about our own personal abilities. But it also leaves us energized, and ready to enter the new year filled with resolve. We realize that its impact extends to every aspect of our lives. Why else would we all, without exception, have shown up every morning, bleary-eyed and numb?  Why else would we all, without exception, already be looking forward to next year’s Kangeiko? 

 

-  Marie-Claire Dubé 

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