The following notes serve to trace the origins and important moments in the preparation and conduct of the Misogi ceremony on January 1st as practised in the dōjōs of the Itsuo Tsuda School. They cannot replace the oral transmission and experience of the ceremony; they are guidelines, not a set of mandatory instructions. To help convey the atmosphere of these moments, it seemed appropriate to present these notes by drawing on the three rhythms of Japanese tradition, jo – ha – kyū, which Tsuda Itsuo discusses in his books:
‘By studying Noh theatre, I experienced the three rhythms: jo – slow, ha – normal, and kyu – fast. […]
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Jo means introduction, ha rupture, change, and kyu means fast.
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[…] fruits grow gradually (jo), ripen as we watch (ha), and suddenly fall from the branches (kyu).’1Tsuda Itsuo, The Science of the Particular, Chap. XVII (end), 2016, Yume Editions, p. 143-4
Origin and preparations (jo)
Life in our School’s dōjōs is punctuated by several cycles. Between the cycle that begins with the creation of the dōjō and the daily cycle of Aikidō sessions, there is the multi-weekly cycle of Katsugen Undō sessions, the seasonal cycle of seminars, and the annual cycle of the Misogi of January 1st.
We are pleased to present a restored version of the video of Master Tsuda reciting Nō.
During the 1981 summer workshop in Coulonges-sur-l’Autize, Master Itsuo Tsuda recites an excerpt from a Nō play. Before beginning, Master Tsuda introduces the story.
Here is the transcript of the presentation:
‘It’s related to a legend. Once upon a time, there was a young monk who was on a pilgrimage, and every time he stopped in a village, he stayed with someone who had a little girl, and then, as a joke, her father would say, “Hey, this monk will be your future husband!”
The girl grew up believing this promise. One day, as the monk was passing by, she said, “When are you going to marry me?”
The monk was terrified. He fled the house because he was forbidden to marry, and the girl chased him over hill and dale. Finally, the monk crossed a river and she turned into a snake.
The monk found refuge in the Dōjō-Ji temple, explaining this story to the monks of the temple, who decided to grant him asylum. So they said to him: “Hide in the bell.”
The bell was a huge room that could hide several people, so he hid inside it.
The snake arrived and searched everywhere for him. Finally, it wrapped itself around the bell and struck it with its tail, melting the bell and burning the monk.
So the Waki said, “Don’t be struck by this event,” and some time later, they wanted to rebuild the bell.
Since then, on the day the bell was inaugurated, the monks have forbidden women from entering the temple grounds.
A young female dancer arrives and asks to see the bell. “No, it’s forbidden for women!—Yes, but I’m a dancer and I’d still like to celebrate this inauguration with my dance.”
Finally, she was allowed to enter.
So, on stage, she wears a large, big hat, like this, and then she starts to dance. It is a somewhat frenetic, very jerky dance that shows a hysterical intensity.
Meanwhile, there is a large bell hanging from the ceiling. Just before, there is a rope that attaches it to a ring, behind the choir, and a few minutes before, the choir members untie the knot and wait like that; there are three or four of them, it’s very heavy.
And then this dancer arrives in the middle of the stage.
Finally, she stands under the bell and then yep! She jumps, at the same time as the bell falls. So the bell is there, pofff! As if the dancer had been absorbed by the bell.
It’s difficult because if there’s even a fraction of a second’s delay, the actor falls and the bell arrives after him… or if you jump too early, you hit your head. It’s very difficult. It has to give the effect of absorption.
And then in the bell, the actor changes his mask, switches for another creature. He wears a demon mask and demon clothes. And then, after the bell, he is in a demon costume. He begins the second act.
This is the moment when the dancer arrives.
She dances and comes to the center of the stage, and suddenly she jumps and the bell falls.’
Morihei Ueshiba O-sensei used to recite the norito, a Shinto invocation, during his practice. Itsuo Tsuda recited it daily during the last few years and the tradition is still kept within the Itsuo Tsuda School.
‘The norito does not belong to the world of religion world but certainly to that of the sacred in the Animist sense. The vibrations and resonance flowing from the pronunciation of this text brings to each practice a feeling of calmness, fullness and sometimes something that goes beyond and remains inexpressible. The norito is a Misogi1Misogi, translated as “purification”. In its essence, it is never perfect, it always changes and evolves. It is the reflection of a moment in our being.’ (Régis Soavi)
This norito is very popular in Japan, it is called Misogi no harae. The Norito version of Master Tsuda is in some way a short version. Itsuo Tsudareceived this Norito from the hands of Nakanishi sensei, met during a trip to Japan. She also passed on the position of the hands, which, without being stiff, reflects high accuracy. It is a KI knot; all the fingers must touch each other and the position of the elbows has its own importance too. Nakanishi sensei was the Kotodama teacher of Morihei Ueshiba.’ (from an interview with Régis Soavi)
Itsuo Tsuda himself wrote: ‘At one point in his life, Mr Ueshiba felt stuck in the pursuit of the Way and faced a dead end. He was very strong physically, but he felt that something was missing. He was extremely strong physically, but he felt he was lacking something. It was then that he got to know the Nakanishis. He was fifty-six or seven years old, and Mrs Nakanishi, twenty-something years old.’2Itsuo Tsuda, The Way of the Gods, Chap. XVI, 2021, Yume Editions, p. 125 (1st ed. in French, 1982, Le Courrier du Livre (Paris))
In his book The Way of the Gods, Itsuo Tsuda attempts to clarify Shinto and Kotodama, some difficult subjects to access. We will publish some extracts as part of the listening of the Norito recitation by Itsuo Tsuda.
‘It is very difficult to define that which is called “Shintoism” – translated word for word: the way of the gods. It is a name adopted due to the necessity of comparison with other forms of “belief” that have been introduced to Japan over the centuries.’3ibid., Chap. XIII, p. 99
‘If I have to say what Shinto is, in a word, I will quote a French proverb:
“Eau qui court ne porte point d’ordure – flowing water carries no filth”. (fifteenth century).
What matters is not dogma, but an immediate feeling of serenity.
Is it possible to constantly maintain the feeling of serenity, under any circumstance? If you can do it, I have nothing more to say. I tend to agree that most of the time we experience a precarious serenity, under certain specific conditions. We try to keep hold of this serenity by tensing up. It is a maintaining of appearances. Not to admit that we have weaknesses and flaws is blindness.
This proverb is almost unknown today.’4ibid., Chap. XVIII, p. 141
Kotodama (vibration)
‘The whole Universe is conceived as filled with sensations of vibrations.
These vibrations already exist before they become noticeable.
So, Master Ueshiba often spoke of kotodama of the vowel “u”, for example, which is a vibration that springs from the belly. He explained the functions of all the vocalism, which were basically very simple but it was very difficult for me to understand them because these are things to which I was not accustomed.’5ibid., Chap. XIII, p. 101
‘According to Mrs Nakanishi, the defining quality of budo, martial arts, lies in the inclination to respond to different resonances. This is where martial arts unite with kototama. This is also where they differ from sports.
Indeed, the martial arts were born in times when one was exposed to fate at every moment, without warning. It was not about showing off physical technique in front of spectators who admire you, as in a circus. You had to foresee the approach of danger before any data of perception could confirm it. The moment of confirmation is already too late because it does not determine scores, but life or death.’6ibid., Chap. XVIII, p. 142
‘Aikido, conceived as a sacred movement by Mr Ueshiba, is disappearing to make way for athletic Aikido, a combat sport, more in accordance with the demands of civilised people.
“True budo must be like a kind of mai,” says Mrs Nakanishi,” the others are circling around you, but the master does not move.”
In Shinto, there is no opposition between God and man, as there is in Christianity. It is about finding God in yourself.
This is called chinkon kishin, calming the soul and returning to God. In fact, one can neither calm nor agitate the soul. We purify the ki that attaches to us to keep us alive, but at the same time exposes us to constant agitation.
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“Miracles – you don’t need them,” she said, “the hard part is being natural, being normal.”
The beautiful sea reflects the moon in its round shape. The rough sea gives only burst reflections.’ 7ibid., Chap. XVII, p. 133
‘Mrs Nakanishi’s teaching revealed to me a new dimension of the universe. The Shinto universe does not correspond in any way to the geocentric conception that existed before Copernicus, nor to the heliocentric conception consolidated by Newton.
The universe she talks about is not located anywhere. It creates itself from the original Void, when and where it is needed, and disappears as soon as the matter is finished.
From the Void, Nothingness is created and Nothingness creates Existence. And Existence ends in Nothingness which returns to the Void.
Therefore, there is no creation that takes place at the beginning of the world, once and for all. Every moment can be the moment of creation. Anyone who tries can create the Universe, wherever he or she is.
So we don’t have to argue with Gagarin to deny or affirm the existence of God in space.
Shinto is too fluid to freeze, to become ossified. Each day is the first day of creation. Each day is perhaps the last day of returning to the Void.’8ibid., Chap. XVIII, p. 144
To help us find out what the Nō represented for Master Itsuo Tsuda, and also for his students, these moments of recitation that took place certain nights during workshops, we asked Régis Soavi (student of Master Tsuda and aikido teacher for over thirty years) to tell us about it…
Master Tsuda used to recite the Nō during workshops and if I remember correctly, he did it twice during the workshop – sometimes once, sometimes twice – after the evening session of the regenerating movement. There were people who were leaving, and then as we knew there was a Nō, because someone had said that, we would start to organize: We would place the rope – a white braided rope – that would define the scene. Meanwhile, Tsuda was in his room, and we would settled on the tatami a meter far from the rope more or less, and we waited for those last to leave – all those people who were not interested to the Nō or those who found it too long; at the end there was a small group staying. In general there were a lot of people leaving. Because it was in Japanese, Tsuda was not always telling stories properly, sometimes he would just say a few words:Read more →
received this Norito from the hands of 
