{"id":2054,"date":"2025-04-03T00:20:32","date_gmt":"2025-04-02T15:20:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/budobooks.jp\/?p=2054"},"modified":"2025-04-03T01:06:41","modified_gmt":"2025-04-02T16:06:41","slug":"budo-beat-19-sixth-sense","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/budobooks.jp\/?p=2054","title":{"rendered":"Budo Beat 19: Sixth Sense"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

The \u201cBudo Beat\u201d Blog features a collection of short reflections, musings, and anecdotes on a wide range of budo topics by Professor Alex Bennett<\/a>, a seasoned budo scholar and practitioner. Dive into digestible and diverse discussions on all things budo\u2014from the philosophy and history to the practice and culture that shape the martial Way.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Last week, while interpreting at the 49th Foreign Kendo Leaders\u2019 Summer Seminar (AKA Kitamoto Seminar)\u2014an event packed as tightly with wisdom as a Tokyo rush-hour train\u2014the word kizashi<\/mark><\/em> (\u5146\u3057) emerged repeatedly, defying neat English translation. Fellow translator Jonathan Levine Ogura and I pondered why this elusive philosophical mole kept surfacing more often lately. Thus prompted, with the determined imprecision of someone chasing a firefly, I resolved to unpack this subtle concept in a blog post.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Graduates of the 49th Kitamoto Seminar. This seminar is held most years (except when there are World Kendo Championships). I was a participant at the seminar for the first time in 1989, and have been interpreting there every year since the early 2000s. This year, as was last year, the seminar was condicted at the Nippon Budokan’s Kenshuu Centre in Katsuura.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

So, what is it? It has nothing to do with the usual ki<\/mark><\/em> (\u6c17= life force) in budo; well not the direct kanji meaning. This is where a little bit of confusion crops up when people hear the word. Kizashi<\/em>, the subtle omen, that faint whisper from the future, is everything in budo. Often translated into English as \u201csign\u201d, \u201comen\u201d, \u201cforeshadowing\u201d, or \u201charbinger\u201d, kizashi<\/em> captures something both delicate and decisive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In my own training, I\u2019ve found few notions as elegant or as stubbornly opaque as kizashi<\/em>, this gentle yet decisive forewarning. I have been taught about the concept using different phrases before. For example, \u201cmihatsu no mi<\/mark><\/em>\u201d (\u672a\u767a\u306e\u8eab), which means \u201cthe body before it issues forth\u201d\u2014that fleeting, tantalizing instant when your opponent\u2019s ki<\/em> has formed but not yet released into movement. This is precisely the instant the martial artist learns to recognize and exploit, the subtle trembling of intention that precedes action, the nanosecond between decision and execution<\/mark>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As someone told me during training in Osaka recently: \u201cWhen you get down to it, budo\u2019s all about anticipation\u2014not hitting the opponent when they move, but catching them just as they\u2019re thinking about it<\/mark>. It\u2019s feeling that split-second gap between what they could do and what they actually do. Basically, it\u2019s not about being quick\u2014it\u2019s about being early, timing so perfect it\u2019s almost spooky.”<\/p>\n\n\n

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Have you ever watched a sunrise? Most of us have. Think of that split-second anticipation\u2014just as the sun is about to lift its head over the horizon. If this photo I took in Katsuura were a moment in budo, I\u2019d have already been snotted.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

It’s like having an uncanny sixth sense<\/mark>\u2014a whispered instinct that tells you precisely, \u201cReady. . .<\/mark> NOW.\u201d Hitting that elusive dot just before the N flickers into existence. (Look closely)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kizashi<\/em> is precisely in those fleeting instants before action unfolds\u2014it\u2019s that faint shift of weight just before your opponent lunges, the tightening of their butt cheeks a heartbeat before a strike, or the brief flicker in their eyes signalling intent. These subtle cues are the whispers of kizashi<\/em>, the brief windows through which victory or defeat is glimpsed, ever so briefly, before reality catches up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yet there’s a little trap waiting to ambush even the most attentive budoka\u2014and tonight at the Butokuden, I stumbled straight into it. With kizashi<\/em> firmly lodged in my mind (because I was still writing this blogpost), I spent training trying a bit too hard to sense the moment<\/mark> before the strike. Afterwards, my sensei, with gently brutal honesty, remarked: \u201cI was expecting you to hit, but you held back…That’s why I whacked your ass instead…\u201d Sheepishly, I admitted, \u201cI was really focusing on sensing the kizashi<\/em> before launching.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His reply cut straight to the heart of the matter: \u201cYou can\u2019t just wait\u2014you must create the chance.<\/mark> Take initiative, apply the pressure, then you’ll sense that kizashi<\/em> and find your opening.\u201d Classic ‘seme 101’, and exactly what I myself often preach to students. More practising, less preaching. Another lesson painfully learned: focus too narrowly on one thing, and other important things including the bigger picture slip you by. Argh, the frustration of chasing clarity and finding only loose ends!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A seasoned budoka initiates and perceives kizashi<\/em>, glimpsing the future in a muscle\u2019s twitch, an eyelid\u2019s flutter, or the gentle lean of an opponent. Budo, thus, becomes less about raw strength or speed, and more about sensitivity\u2014a cultivated awareness of these faint, fleeting signals. Kizashi<\/em>, in essence, is the martial artist\u2019s premonition, their quiet intuition speaking clearly where words fail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A samurai poem of yore beautifully encapsulates this principle:<\/p>\n\n\n

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\u201cWhen you see snow beginning to fall, brush it away before it accumulates; thus, the green willow branch remains unbroken.<\/em>\u201d[1]<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

What more graceful embodiment of kizashi<\/em> than this simple yet profound image? It teaches vigilance, reminding budoka\u2014and all who engage deeply with life\u2014to respond to early signs. Act before the weight becomes unbearable, the poet urges; discern the omen and move, decisively and quietly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the martial arts, being oblivious to\u00a0kizashi<\/em> means defeat, perhaps even death (in the old days, that is!). Less dramatic in a modern dojo, perhaps, but still very humbling. In kendo, it\u2019s in the nearly imperceptible shift of weight on your opponent\u2019s back foot, a telltale twitch of fingers adjusting grip. In judo, it may be that momentary tension in the shoulders; in naginata, a subtle narrowing of the eyes just before the strike unfolds. Karate practitioners may sense it in the infinitesimally brief tightening of the hips; in kyudo, it’s the barely visible pause in the rhythm of drawing the bow, the moment just before release. Kizashi<\/em> is omnipresent, yet elusive as mist: present to those who\u2019ve honed their senses, invisible to the uninitiated.<\/p>\n\n\n

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I have long been a fan of Noh, and writing this blog post reminds me why. In the hushed stillness of Noh, every movement emerges from silence like a ripple in still water\u2014delayed, deliberate, and charged with anticipation. It is a theatre kizashi<\/em>, where meaning lives not in what is shown, but in what is about to unfold.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

It might sound esoteric, even mystical, but kizashi<\/em> is decidedly practical. It is not just reactionary wisdom\u2014it\u2019s proactive discernment<\/mark>. There are so many things that it links to. For example, breathing. A veteran sensei once whispered to me: \u201cAlex mate, watch their breath.\u201d Breathing betrays intentions\u2014when shallow, tension follows; when deep, calm precedes action. Every inhalation a promise, every exhalation a revelation. The beauty, he suggested, is in anticipation rather than reaction, in foresight rather than hindsight<\/mark>. Observing such minute details such as this means that kizashi<\/em> is magnified. The clues and cues are everywhere if you know where to look, and proactively creating rather than just reacting. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Western philosophy, from Aristotle to Bergson, spills much ink contemplating intuition and anticipation, but budo demands its practitioners live this principle bodily, not merely ponder it intellectually. Intuition becomes flesh-and-bone reality. The great masters of martial tradition rarely articulate kizashi<\/em>\u2014they embody it. They stand like willow branches, bending gently with the first hints of snow, never snapping under its full weight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And here, I think, lies the most subtle truth of kizashi<\/em>\u2014it isn\u2019t merely noticing what\u2019s obvious, but learning to notice before it becomes obvious. It\u2019s the ability to see what\u2019s about to happen before anyone else sees it at all. Perhaps that\u2019s why budoka train incessantly\u2014shaping their bodies and minds to smell omens instinctively. The training hall echoes not only with the clash of bodies and weapons but with the profound silence of minds alert to faint whispers of the future.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To speak plainly, kizashi<\/em> in budo represents a cultivated sensitivity to life\u2019s delicate indicators, a skill relevant far beyond combat. Whether negotiating a difficult conversation or navigating life\u2019s unpredictable terrain, recognising subtle signals (and your role in creating them) may save us from heavier burdens later. Just as the poet advises brushing away snow early, practitioners of budo train to resolve problems while they are still minor, maintaining a poised and adaptable mind. <\/p>\n\n\n

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Godzilla just doesn’t give a damn about the subtleties of kizashi<\/em>!<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

As an ideal, kizashi<\/em> becomes a lesson in vigilance, humility, and quiet courage. Aware of small signs, practitioners remain calmly proactive, ensuring that small issues never snowball into insurmountable crises. The willow tree is their guide, strong precisely because of its flexibility, powerful precisely because it yields gracefully.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In my own experience in Japan\u2019s budo traditions, I\u2019ve learned that the true beauty of kizashi<\/em> is its universality. I think it can almost be seen as one of the purest forms of communication with another human being. It\u2019s an insight applicable to anyone, budoka or not\u2014an encouragement to live attentively, noticing subtle changes and acting with quiet decisiveness. Indeed, it might just be the martial path\u2019s greatest and most transferable wisdom: that life\u2019s smallest omens, when heeded, can avert its greatest tragedies. After all, as the poet gently instructs, better to sweep away snow while it\u2019s still falling lightly, protecting forever the delicate, unbroken beauty of the willow\u2019s branch. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now, perhaps, next time I’m interpreting at some budo event, everyone will nod knowingly at kizashi<\/em>, letting me comfortably embrace the elegance of the original Japanese and not have to overthink things!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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[1]<\/a> \u300c\u964d\u308b\u3068\u898b\u3070\u3000\u3064\u3082\u3089\u306c\u5185\u306b\u6255\u3078\u304b\u3057 \u96ea\u306b\u306f\u6298\u308c\u306c\u9752\u67f3\u306e\u679d\u300d(Furu to miba, tsumoranu uchi ni harae kashi, yuki ni wa orenu aoyagi no eda<\/em>) in Dai Nippon Y\u016bbenkai K\u014ddansha, Bud\u014d H\u014dkan<\/em>, 1934, p. 780<\/p>\n\n\n

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