In Japanese, the practice of combat archery is known as Kyudo. In Kyudo, it is frequently stated that fundamentals are the prime focus of each training session. The practitioner focuses on perfecting each individual aspect of drawing, nocking, drawing, aiming, releasing, and refocusing between the released arrow and the repeat phase. It is very Zen. And within just a few actions, are many techniques.
In Japanese martial arts, among other things, the belt ranks prior to black-belt are known as ‘kyu.’ It is illuminating to observe this, as a student of kyudo, even more than students of other martial arts, is continually honing the fundamentals of their art in lieu of ‘advanced’ concepts. After all, the arrow either finds it’s mark, or it does not. Becoming wrapped up in the advanced techniques of the martial arts is a pitfall that I see many, many martial artists, boxers, and anyone fall into. ‘Occam’s Razor applies in much of life, including relationships. To put it elegantly, it is the belief in the maxim “Keep it simple stupid,” or K.I.S.S. It is not only a tragedy, but a travesty. Overthinking was the death of many great ventures. And overworking.
The summary of this short article is as follows: In the martial arts, there is a story. A student was gifted their first white belt by their Sensei. Their master didn’t have a dojo to begin with, so they practiced outside, at the park. The student’s belt turned yellow from sweat stains. Then green after a time because of their training environment. When the master got a dojo, they went to training on matts, and got more students. The student’s belt became scuffed, and got blood on it too. They were intense. The student learned not to go easy on anyone, because they took advantage and really tried to hurt them when their guard wasn’t up. They bled so much from others being unkind. At first it mostly washed out. Then the blood of revenge stained it too, and there was so much of the others’ blood on it that the amount of bleach it would take to get it out would weaken the belt and cause it to snap. So it turned red, then dried black. That was how the student became a black belt. Out of sentiment, as isn’t unusual, they kept the belt, and wore it fairly often. As they aged, blood got on it less and less often. As stained as it had been, it faded to a grey, so light it was often mistaken for a dirty white belt.
The moral of the story is this: an expert at anything should never forget where they came from, whether that’s a good thing or if that’s a bad thing. The earliest, simplest lessons learned are the most beautiful, and no one should be ashamed that they focus on refining those crucial details. To the contrary, one should be as proud of foundational skills as anything. Maybe even more so. Japanese Archery takes this to an extreme both literally and by way of homonym, as the art of being a beginner, always.
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