The Way to Polish the Heart
Kendo is a “way” of refining the self through the sword.
The moment we hold the bamboo sword, we enter not a lesson in technique, but a quiet time to steady the heart.
Kendo is not a sport where we compete for victory.
What matters is not how fast we strike or how many matches we win, but how sincerely we can face ourselves.
That is where its true value lies.
To score a single valid strike, strength and speed are not enough.
Spirit, posture, and distance must come together as one.
In that brief instant, mind, technique, and body are unified.
Kendo then becomes not an act of hitting another, but a mirror that reflects the self.
The opponent is not an enemy to be defeated, but a presence that illuminates who we are.
Every practice begins and ends with a bow.
The bow is not a formality, but an expression of gratitude—toward one’s partner, the dojo, and even the sword itself.
Amid the sound of bamboo clashing, there exists a quiet dialogue of mutual respect.
Win or lose, what remains in the end is a simple sense of thanks.
Kendo is a path of learning that arises in the space between people.
Professor Nakai Jun’nosuke once wrote about Kendo in his newspaper column titled “Muken-shō”—“Beyond Judgment.”
“The spirit of the Kendo club at the First High School, founded in the Meiji era (now the University of Tokyo College of Arts and Sciences), was deeply rooted in the traditional Bushido.
It sought to cultivate dignity and strength of spirit through the way of the sword.
Among its principles, one is especially profound—Muken-shō, meaning that each person judges the outcome of the match for themselves.
If we imagine the bamboo sword as a real blade, the result is already clear without anyone declaring it.
When you listen to your own heart and respect your opponent, a referee is no longer needed.”
In these words, the essence of Kendo quietly resides.
It is not about competing with others, but about trusting one’s own sincerity.
Rather than waiting for others to decide what is right, one turns inward to listen to a quieter truth.
In an age so easily swayed by numbers and external approval, Muken-shō reminds us to return to the still point within ourselves.
As one continues to walk the path of Kendo, victory becomes less about defeating others and more about not losing to the person you were yesterday.
You learn to hold the sword without excess force, to sense your opponent’s movement, to breathe together.
You raise your voice while keeping your heart calm.
Through this repetition, something within you slowly changes.
Kendo is a lifelong journey—
and the sword you hold, though it seems to face another,
is always, quietly, pointed toward your own heart.
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