I think I'm learning Japanese

It’s a pretty simple word, really. tsurugi. tsu ru gi. Three syllables of a language I have been studying more than fifteen years. And I can’t get it right.

It is just one kanji character – 剣。Put it together with 道, the character for road/path, and you get kendo, which you can read about elsewhere in this blog. Kendo. Ken. That’s no problem. But on its own, the reading is tsurugi.

A tsurugi is a sword with a straight blade sharp on both sides. It is quite different in appearance and usage from the typical Japanese blade, which is curved and sharp on only one side.

I was talking about tomorrow night’s tsurugi class and was promptly interrupted. My wife repeated the word with correct pronunciation. I repeated it with incorrect pronunciation. Two repeats of that cycle, then my daughter got in on the action. She admonished me right away and repeated it with mother’s approval.

I don’t think it is fair that almost-six-year-old girls should be able to hear and instantly repeat with correct pronunciation. Or that I still can’t properly pronounce this word which is such an important part of my life. Hell, I can read and write the character and my daughter can’t begin to do that. Yet. There is a reason why I can work as an amateur translator but not as an interpreter. What comes in these ears just doesn’t come out my mouth, not as it should anyhow.

I can’t pinpoint the problem. I am tone-deaf and never never sing. Is it my ears? My voice? I tried every variation I could dream up with syllable stress, intonation, but nothing would satisfy these two nefarious judges of my spoken Japanese, now teamed against me in a none-too-subtle conspiracy. Tsu RUU gi. Nope. Tsuru gi. Nope. “tsurugi” repeats my daughter. “That’s what I said,” I insist. She bursts into peals of laughter, obviously not a proponent of the more humanistic, enlightened theories of education.

I’ll just use the Chinese word at home from now on. Basically the same character (剑), but it is pronounced jian (jee-en, as one syllable??) with a downward/ fourth tone. Much simpler. And anyway, no one in this house can fault my Chinese pronunciation.

thoughts in the rain

Sword class tonight, shifting gears from Sha family tai ji jian work into some basics for the jian/ straight sword, drawn from sword routines for chang quan / long fist. Completely different, then, these quicker and more punctuated motions, a very different way to handle the sword.
Got to thinking about this in comparison to kendo. A key difference between Japanese and Chinese sword practice is that in kendo, there is always an actual opponent present, one who is trying their best to hit you, even as your goal is the same. There are tons of great solo routines and a few nice partner routines, but the latter are completely pre-arranged, so the Chinese side lacks a certain psychological pressure which is ever-present in kendo. We could go on and on about the relative merits of each – suffice it to say that each is an essential part of my practice.
Somewhere in there I also got to thinking about the work of the blade after it has pierced the skin, particularly in relation to thrusts. There is a danger in kendo of being satisfied with merely striking the opponent with a bamboo sword (shinai), not being concerned with the detailed work of the blade as one might be in, say, iaido practice. A mere thrust will of course do some nasty damage, but the other person is left with relatively small and closed wound – and might be around to return the favor. While working on tonight’s new motions and new way of handling the sword, I began experimenting a bit.
The sword is drawn back a bit for a thrust, held with the palm facing out. On the thrust, the hand and blade rotate 180 degrees, so the palm finishes facing in. The key point is where in the motion to rotate the blade – a typical taiji motion would emphasize a slow, continuous rotation, which would result in minimal rotation after penetration of the skin. But I think tonight’s motions need a quicker rotation – one delayed a bit. The end result would be insertion into the skin, followed by rotation: opening a larger wound, causing more damage.
This got me thinking about the naginata, a Japanese weapon something like a glaive. Think of a wooden staff almost two meters long with a curved blade attached to the end (maybe 18 inches long??). Modern, sport-oriented naginata emphasizes cutting strikes, though thrusts are sometimes seen. Only one target is allowed for thrusting, the throat, which is protected by a special piece of armor.
But in one centuries-old school of traditional naginata, Tendo Ryu, thrusts are often aimed at the chest level, after having intercepted the attack of a sword. And one characteristic of Tendo Ryu motions is eguri, the twisting or rotation of the blade after it has entered the body. The curvature of the blade results in a much larger diameter of internal damage. Pretty nasty concept for something relegated to the status of a “woman’s martial art” in Japan.
Back to the Chinese sword – similar principle but less damaging – on the horizontal thrust forward, it is not a simple thrust moving forward parallel to the ground at a constant height. Instead, there is a noticeable rise in height as the sword advances along a horizontal line. This would presumably also result in a larger wound, since the blade would be changing height while entering the body.
Sorry if this is a bit gruesome for those readers outside the martial arts world. But I was thinking about this during practice tonight and later while waiting for the bus home and marveling at the beauty of the sounds of falling rain around me.