A Halfie in Japan

2nd Nov

She did so, but almost screamed as a butterfly fluttered forth, and, alighting on her finger’s tip, sat waving the ample magnificence of its purple and gold-speckled wings, as if in prelude to a flight. It is impossible to express by words the glory, the splendor, the delicate gorgeousness which were softened into the beauty of this object. Nature’s ideal butterfly was here realized in all its perfection; not in the pattern of such faded insects as flit among earthly flowers, but of those which hover across the meads of paradise for child-angels and the spirits of departed infants to disport themselves with. The rich down was visible upon its wings; the lustre of its eyes seemed instinct with spirit. The firelight glimmered around this wonder—the candles gleamed upon it; but it glistened apparently by its own radiance, and illuminated the finger and outstretched hand on which it rested with a white gleam like that of precious stones. In its perfect beauty, the consideration of size was entirely lost. Had its wings overreached the firmament, the mind could not have been more filled or satisfied.

— “The Artist of the Beautiful,” Nathaniel Hawthorne

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.

— Oscar Wilde

I first began kyudo at the invitation of a friend. I only knew that it was a Japanese form of archery and that it seemed one good way of making use of my time in Japan and learning something new about Japanese culture (cliche, I know, but I felt that I needed to be doing something…).
Everything was new in the beginning, and I had a lot of difficulty (I still do), since I’m terribly slow at learning things with my body. Not to mention, I was much slower than my other American friends at becoming familiar with the movements. As a perfectionist, I detested making mistakes and was always frustrated and using others’ performance as a way to judge myself.
I wish I could say that these feelings have vanished, now - they haven’t. And I’m still really bad at kyudo. But one thing that’s changed or that’s in the process of changing is my attitude toward it. Every mistake is an opportunity to learn something new and get closer to perfection. And perfection isn’t simply achieved by hitting the target; form and feeling are also incredibly important in this Japanese sport/art.
Japan has been many things to me - an amazing experience, too, of course. Just like in kyudo, however, things have not come easily to me here, and it’s also been a difficult lesson in facing my own weaknesses, accepting my imperfections, and getting up the gumption and positivity to keep trying to get better.
(Hopefully, I can remember this the next time I go to practice…)