Some time ago I wrote about the hard training methods
that developed in or were promulgated from the Meiji period (1868- )
onwards. Whether these were an authentic continuation or re-creation of
the experience of bugeisha in the past is a moot point. The information I
could find pointed to a strong influence from sources outside the
martial tradition.
One of the traditions I described, popularised by the Ichikukai
(One-nine Society) and labelled in a general way as misogi, seems to
have developed from a Shinto base and developed a fierce, Zen inspired
overlay (with nods to the teaching style of Yamaoka Tesshu), involved
continuous ringing of a hand bell while chanting, and which lasted for a
period of several days. Tohei Koichi, the famous aikido teacher engaged
in this training.
A variant, or at least, a very similar style of training is described by veteran budo practitioner Roald Knutsen in his book Rediscovering Budo from a Swordsman’s Perspective.
Knutsen, whose personal experience tends to pre-date many of the
current crop of writers on these kinds of things, sees this kind of
training relating to Shingon mikkyo, and suggests connections through to
the roots of bugei, likely renewed by individual practitioners in their
personal travels and connections with esoteric teachings such as those
of the yamabushi.
...
Early on the first morning the students knelt in formal line with a
few domestic dojo members behind forming the second row. Each visiting
student was handed a small handbell, or ‘kane’, to hold in his left
hand. they were required to throw out their arm to sound the bell and
shout a loud kiai – ‘Ei – the movement timed by the slow beat of the
large dojo drum. This exercise was repeated endlessly at the same
measured tempo for two hours before the practise ended. That first day
they had two more sessions, a total of six hours. Needless to say, their
arms became very heavy and tired; their voices, too.
...
The fifth morning came and most felt better for their rest
although somewhat stiff. They assembled in the dojo and put on their
kendo armour before continuing with the usual kiai training, but this
only lasted for an hour. Then, facing them on the senior side were a
number of tough-looking senior yudansha. A violent practice followed in
which there was no way in their present condition they could hope to
hold their own. Each of the seniors seemed to be harder than the one
before … and the practices were interminable, but at last the drum
called a halt. The dojo master now announced that they would all be
required later to fight one-point matches, success or failure depending
on the result. They were then dismissed.
Both my Kendo informants recalled the prospect of these matches as
daunting and, in each case, their respective opponents looked
uncompromising and hard. With little or no reserves left within them,
this situation was close to facing a deadly enemy on the battlefield;
desperate in the extreme. While each steadied himself for what was to
come, the senpai reminded them of the teaching:
‘Don’t look with your eyes; see with your mind!’