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.’
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 →
