Jon Lovett

In April 2006 I travelled back to Japan to stay for two weeks at the Shidokan Honbu dojo in Tokorozawa. I was not grading on this visit so had arranged to do some sight-seeing in Kyoto and visit the Obakusan Manpukuji zen buddhist temple to learn about seated meditation, zazen. During the day I taught at the nearby Waseda University campus and in the evening I trained in the dojo. A meeting of Shidokan shihans took place in the Ito dojo whilst I was staying. The first part of the diary records my visit to Kyoto and Obakusan Manpukuji.

On Monday Tomoko-san took me over to the dojo about 5.30 p.m. after spending the day up at the University. Reku-san and the others were already well into training. The cherry tree is in full flower over the staircase. Mrs Soeno invited us in for tea and sweet brown yokan served on a small rectangular plate decorated with cherry blossoms.

We talk about Shidokan and the forthcoming shihan's meeting in Ito, which everyone is busy preparing for. I say that I'm planning to go to a zen buddhist monastry and Mrs Soeno jokes about how the monks hit students with sticks. The dojo has a comfortable smell of liniment and leather.

The evening is spent training with Reku-san. I need to get used to the stance again - left foot forward, pointing forward. Right foot back, almost in line with the front foot, knees bent. More like a boxer's stance than our usual square-on approach.

We work on combinations. Jab with the left hand, cross with the right, bringing the hips square, but not too far. Rhythm is important. Jab, Jab-cross. Jab-cross, Jab-cross. Reku holds up my right leg in Mwashi-geri so that I get into the correct position for delivering the technique. Body upright, hips into the kick, right hand along the line of the kick, left hand back covering the face, then the same with the left leg.

We start to work, Reku holding two Muay Thai pads. Jab, kick, moving about the ring. He moves the pad forward to meet the cross, bap, bap. My left leg doesn't feel as good as the right - but that's what the heavy bags are for, I can practice that later.

Reku introduces hizageri, he jabs me with the right pad in a hook as a signal to counter with the right knee. Hips in, body leaning back slightly to provide force, pushing Reku against the ropes. After a few rounds of combinations he says that's enough, we will build on that little by little, and I leave the ring to continue on the bags.

Reku spars with Taki, two kick boxing champions together. First they work with pads, then Reku puts on gloves and they spar. Both move with the easy confidence and smooth assurance of professional fighters, countering as fast as attacking.

After a couple of hours of training travel weariness overcomes me and I head for bed as I have to be up early in the morning ready to go to Inuyama.

On Tuesday we take a train from Tokorozawa into Tokyo to catch the shinkansen from Shinagawa to Nagoya. It was my first journey on a bullet train. The cabin is quiet with wide aisles and lots of leg room. The track follows the line of the ancient Tokaido, the route linking the Imperial capital of Kyoto with the eastern city of Tokyo. If kids in your dojo complain about the formality of bowing, then send them on the shinkansen. The ticket inspector bows as he leaves the cabin, as does the trolley lady.

We travel south of Mt Fuji and get a good view of the peak covered in snow. On arrival at Nagoya we change trains to pick up a local line to Inuyama, which translates as dog mountain, a small city home to Japan's oldest and only privately owned castle. On Wednesday we head onwards to Kyoto on the Shinkansen for some sight seeing.

It snows as we approach the city, and unlike Tokyo, the cherry is only in bud. First we visit Nijuojo, the Shogun's palace. It is impressively ornamental, the rooms are decorated with screens depicting tigers and leopards on a background of gold. A wide wooden corridor surrounds the central rooms and it squeaks as we walk. This is a cleverly engineered nightingale floor, designed to prevent anyone from sneaking up on the shogun. Even if he was attacked, there were ninja warriors waiting in special rooms next to the meeting chambers.

The upper palace is enclosed by a moat and raised on walls made of massive stones. After Nijuojo we visit Kinkaku-Ji, the golden temple, another display of opulence. As a contrast to the wealth and power inherent in the Shogun's palace we walk to Ryoan-ji, a simple zen stone garden. This too attracts crowds of visitors.

Although it is set in extensive grounds, the famous ancient arrangement of fifteen stones in raked gravel at Ryoan-ji is not large. On two sides it is flanked by a modest temple building, the other sides are a wall. Many people are sitting along one side of the temple on banked steps looking at the stones or taking photographs. The guide book tells us about the riddle of the stones and their hidden zen meaning. I think about the Unfettered Mind and imagine a zen master instructing a novice to meditate on the nature of stones, and then to meditate on the nature of arrangement of stones. Staring at the stones they become islands in a sea of gravel. One thing I must remember in future is not to wear lace up boots, they take ages to get on an off when entering temples.

From Ryoan-ji we catch a bus to Gion, the district famous for housing the floating world of geishas. Browsing the shops we see a geisha leaving in a taxi, presumably for an assignation in the many hotels in the narrow streets of old Kyoto. We go in search of old prints and find a shop full of them, prints of Noh play characters, landscapes and stations of the Tokaido - but way beyond my price range.

We walk down the busy shopping streets with huge department stores and fashion houses. Although it is cold the streets are jammed with shoppers. In the evening we go out for a traditional Kyoto meal. This consists of many different courses of tofu, each with distinct delicate flavours.

In the morning I make a presentation in Kyoto University and they treat us to a traditional Japanese lunch of raw tuna chunks, which are quite slippery and difficult to pick up with chop sticks.

After lunch we catch a train to Obakusan Manpukuji for a course on zen meditation. The extensive temple complex is set back onto hillside. The timber buildings are built with massive beams on a grand scale and are draped with purple banners. Everything is well ordered and efficient.

We go to the office and meet the monk who is to teach us zazen, seated meditation. He is young, friendly, handsome, lithe and with warm clear eyes. He takes us to the meditation hall, which is deep in the temple complex, and gives us a sheet of instructions to read while he opens the great wooden doors that lead into the hall. Inside the hall are rows of benches just under waist height and on the benches are rows of square white cushions, two cushions on top of each other. The floor is diamond squares of dark grey tiles, there is no heating and the hall is pretty cold. The monk folds the top cushion in half so that there are a total of three layers of cushion. This is for sitting on and the only comfort we are going to get.

He shows us how to get into the zazen position, left foot first, then right into a lotus. Then right hand under left forming an O with the palms and thumbs. The back, neck and head are straight, eyes looking down and forward to focus on the floor about a metre away. I can only manage half a lotus, but he says that is fine, just tuck one leg underneath with one on top. He tells us to breathe through the nose using the stomach and to count from one to ten in our heads. Then he gets a large wooden rod and explains that if we cannot hold the position we will be hit on the back, six times. We are to meditate for fifteen to twenty minutes.

I focus my eyes on a junction of the square tiles, the monk beats a drum and the zazen starts. He comes round to check my position, my back is not straight enough so he puts the rod up against it as a ruler to ensure my posture is upright. The first fifteen minutes pass quite well. I count from one to ten and concentrate on breathing, but find my mind wandering to mundane things and have to make an effort to bring it back to the count.The monk rings a bell and says that we can stretch our legs in a short break. Break? I thought that was it. But no, that was the first little stretch of zazen. Now we are going to do another fifteen minutes. He beats the drum. It starts to get hard. The muscles in my legs and back are beginning to ache. I try to relax and concentrate. The bell can't come soon enough. I say I am having difficulty concentrating and he says we have to look within ourselves. Another short break, and then another fifteen minutes. The muscles in my back are beginning to shiver and I think I'm going to fall off the bench backwards. The monk sees this and comes to stand in front of me with the rod. We bow, hands together, then I lean forward, hands on the bench, head down. He whacks the rod on the muscles running down the spine, three times on each side. I have never been so grateful for being hit with a stick. The blows jolt the muscles back to normal. We bow again and I finish the meditation.

The monks meditate for four hours a day, one hour in the morning and three hours in the evening, winter and summer. We leave the hall and go into a tatami room with low tables and kneel to recite a sutra. On the tables is the calligraphy of the sutra covered by transparent thin rice paper. Using a calligraphy brush we trace the characters of the sutra, write the date and record a wish. Mine is happiness for my children. The monks will read the sutra for us in the morning. We head back to Kyoto, hop on the shinkasen and hurtle back to Tokyo. I'm back in the dojo by 10 pm.

Part two