The national dan championship draws near…

Like every year, I am forcing myself to take part. My sensei made it clear that it was not a good attitude to avoid going to shiai. But it’s hard on the ego especially since I’ve never landed a single ippon in shiai (despite being 3rd dan). It makes me think I must be one of the “weak” holders of a certain dan rank (as I have often overheard being uttered here and there).

Maybe it is because I never won a single point, let alone match that I’m saying this, but I have no interest in competition. I have no interest in facing others with a pressure to win anything. I find that kendo is very different without its competitive aspect, and I would welcome large jigeiko sessions instead of competitions.

I feel that my opinion is not mature enough though, so I’ll just stick to it until I finally get it, until I can play my usual kendo in shiai and make it work there.

I live in a place where we have access to a high concentration of high-ranking teachers, but where a 30km trip is considered “far” to do anything. My dojo was founded around that cultural trait.

“How come there is no kendo-dojo in a town and area of around 110.000 inhabitants, while there are dojos north, east and west but 50km away?” was the constatation that started it all.

For a couple of years, we had an instructor from another dojo, but we realised that we would have to become self-sufficient, sooner rather than later. After another year of hit-and-miss with help from the outside, we had to face it : we would have to take matters in our own hands, meaning that I would have to step up to the task.

This is the reality of the story of how a 1st dan started leading training sessions, though I know it is hard to hear or accept for anyone. Reading opinions on the internet sure didn’t help make me feel at ease with this daunting task.

Thankfully, we weren’t without support. A person I consider my sensei (though I don’t train with him regularly) has been helping us paving the way of correct practice for about 5 years now.

The dojo has been through difficult times, but necessary times. Times of searching, of self-definition. Going from having been handed down a strange point-of-view on kendo at our very beginnings to becoming too gentle after being left on our own.

It took a decade of existence to finally feel “on the right track” and now what we have to do is keep building our momentum.

Me in 2010 as I was brushing up on some iaido, outdoors.
I was 25. I am now 33.

I haven’t seriously practiced iaido since 2011 I believe, instead I have been focusing on kendo only, for several reasons.

The main one being that I was (and still am) the member with most seniority of my dojo which at the time was a mere 3 years old. I had to train harder, although mostly with my mind, or outside of the dojo, acquiring transversal skills (such as studying didactic), to help me succeed in this task as well as to remain a motivator for the others.

Some time has passed since. I am still the de facto dojo leader but am now entering my 3rd year of 3rd dan. Still a beginner, but becoming a decent beginner.

This blog is the story of how I try to reconcile being a humble student on the way of the sword with having been a dojo-leader since I’ve been first dan.

I now dare writing about it because the years of experience are slowly piling up and I’ve managed to keep a level head for almost a decade. I know that I’m still leagues from being a dojo-leader that can be taken seriously, but I’m getting there and start to feel legitimate in this position I didn’t ask for.

Welcome.