Well, Shihan Fujiwara threw everyone a curve ball about what the last day schedule would be. The idea was that we would only train in the morning and then the afternoon would be the Seiwakai grading. Ha. One thing I have learned is never to take anything for granted when it comes to Japanese senseis and schedules.
We started as usual with countless repetitions of the first and second moves of Sanchin kata, in which the body, from soles of the feet to the tips of the fingers, is kept in constant tension. It creates a special kind of pain that is hard to fathom until you have the pleasure of doing it in 100% humidity for half an hour at a whack. The simile that comes to mind is Navy Seal trainees holding the rafts overhead to develop mental toughness. The first two hours were devoted to repetitions of moving basics, interspersed with the entire kata every so often, which was actually a relief because you are able to at least move body parts around and restore circulation. Sensei Vokey from Canada Seiwakai was sweating so profusely, the rest of us were slipping in his puddles on the hardwood floor like ice.
After lunch we ran through kata up through Sanseiru then broke into pairs for kumite drills. Then another hour and a half in our groups by rank to work the prescribed grading kata for our rank. Mr. Fujiwara rewarded our 6th dan group by adding Seipai kata to our Sesan and also added four Japanese boys, all yudansha, who were 13 or 14 years old to really make us look even more oxenly. Such joy. Then my hip went south again and I had to repeatedly leave the floor to try and stretch it out. Each time I jumped back in, but you can't understand how that is a bit humiliating when you are among peers who don't have an ounce of quit in them.
By this time of the afternoon, you could begin to see the subtle panic in our faces because everyone was really spent after six grueling days and many were still needing to do their grading, which is always tough AND involves hard kumite (sparring). The tanks were running on fumes by this point. No stopping Shihan Fujiwara. On we went. Finally, just after four he calls us to line up and we're all thinking "Thank God." He makes all of us Shihan then turn to shomen and we all then run the entire Goju-ryu syllabus, from Sanchin to Suparinpei. Then, he bowed us out and presented the attendance certificates. All who were grading were quite confused by now, and he announces that grading will commence in 15 minutes and all not grading had to vacate. My body had the feel of a soba noodle, but I have to tell you I was glad my grading is not until Friday afternoon in Wakayama.
This has been a particularly physically demanding training by Seiwakai standards and I believe something we will see more of in the future. Mr. Fujiwara gives much in these trainings but he also expects much. The focus this gasshuku seemed to be on mental toughness and giving the best you can even when you are taxed to the max. The mind wants to give up because of the exhaustion but must somehow ignore all the warning lights and alarm bells the body is sending. It is always reassuring to find your limits are way beyond wherever you think they are. But I really do miss being even 50 years old again. Age is beginning to make it all a little tougher.
It was Des Tuck Shihan's birthday so after the usual amazing dinner we went to a karaoke bar until midnight and were all able to let our hair down a bit since training and grading in Omagari was now over. It really was fun with all the Aussies and Canadians, Italians, Mexicans, and of course, the Texan. I started with AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell.' I highly recommend it as a starter song if you're at all inhibited. I was back to my room at midnight, tired and happy, and fell asleep in my clothes. Some went to another bar afterwards for more singing, but they obviously have better stamina or more optimism than I.
Today many of us are traveling south to Wakayama for the Gojukai training, which is an all day train trip. Vassie and Desmond left us in Tokyo where they depart tomorrow back for LA. Fortunately for me I am now a foster child of my Aussie mates and am looking forward to more fun with them. If God ever wanted Texans to have crazy kinfolk, it would be Australians. We are cut from the same cloth.
As we travel south it becomes hotter and, unbelievably enough, more humid. All of Akita Prefecture was under cultivation, but here between Tokyo and Osaka seems to be one continuous suburb, which we bullet through at 200 mph and it feels like a film reel flowing by. I think I need MEAT tonight. I love Japanese food, but man, a real pizza or hamburger would rock my world.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
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