For my part, the reasons for doing iaido include all of the above, and more besides. That iaido, properly taught, teaches proper use and handling of the Japanese sword should be a given, but swordsmanship is only the outermost layer of practice. As my teacher Mr. Otani has said, anyone can learn to kill someone. Living is a lot more difficult.
Ideally, there are prerequisites for studying iaido (or at least there should be). Probably the most important of these is sincerity of heart. I can't altogether say this is easy to do in the 21st century U.S.A., but we try our best.

Once, I saw a Japanese classical dance teacher yell at one student after another. She paced the floor, chain-smoking cigarettes, almost in tears, shouting "Dame' dame' dame'! Dekinai" ("Bad! Bad! Terrible! You can't do it"). I was floored by this performance. I next expected her to order the student out of the studio forever. She didn't.

It took awhile, but I have learned that a Japanese teacher who kicks a student's butt around the room is paying tribute to her sincere desire to learn and potential to improve. A Japanese teacher who tells a student something is "fine," and moves on, has decided the student's interest or potential is somehow less than genuine, and won't bother with him.

While American teachers are more concerned with an individual's varied learning capabilities than a traditional Japanese teacher, even American teachers who are able to make a choice would pick the student eager to learn over one who has something to prove. I have spoken to more than one Western martial arts teacher who admitted ignoring a student he didn't care for in the hope that he would take the hint and go elsewhere. Perhaps Western and Japanese teachers aren't so different after all

Likewise, an uncontrollable temper in a sword class is not an option. Sword techniques, once learned, can be blazingly fast, and a lot more deadly than a punch thrown in anger. Formality is not only for safety in learning iaido techniques, it is a defense against thugly elements that are all too common everywhere today. Students who cannot follow simple rules of etiquette or take criticism gracefully have no place in iaido, and enforcement of etiquette is one way of sorting them out.

Unfortunately, not all dojo consider manners a priority. At least one teacher I know maintains a fairly open policy, hoping that someone who begins practice a little rough around the edges will someday shine. While this can happen, I have not really seen it. More likely, martial art study will reveal someone's personality in more detail than any of us want to see, or know about.

In its very basic sense, iaido is the formalized teaching of sword techniques. It is formal, because that is the safest way to learn it. Real katana (swords) are razor sharp. An incorrect draw can slice through the wooden saya (sheath) and into a hand before the iaidoka is even aware of what has happened. Nowadays most students begin practice with a bokuto or practice sword. A practice sword, being less sharp, is unlikely to cut through, but it is certainly possible to carelessly stab yourself or someone else. Hence, formal slowness has been found to be the best way to learn.

In our style, Muso Shinden ryu, 11 of the 12 kata of the first set begin with the person sitting in a kneeling position of seiza. Why seiza? It provides stability, literally slowing down the student's movement, thereby providing a safe framework for learning the basics. Seiza also strengthens the quads and the back muscles that will aid in learning techniques.

But there are other reasons for seiza. Seiza is also the most formal of postures in Japanese traditional culture. Westerners generally do not grasp the significance of this posture; simply finding it uncomfortable, they assume it must be only for the practical reasons noted above.
Seiza teaches other important things, for example (often equally incomprehensible to most Americans, at least) - manners. Sitting in seiza demonstrates respect - to fellow iaidoka, teachers and the tradition of iaido itself.

Seiza is a physical link to the Japanese traditional past, which created and refined the art form over 400 years. Seiza is more than a beginning iaido posture for basic kata. It is part of what Japanese scholars refer to as "seiza bunka" - seiza culture, which includes other classical art forms, like calligraphy, tea ceremony, flower arrangement, even noh and kabuki theatres.

Seiza teaches respect, and also (well known to those who've tried it) humility. It sounds like a cliche, but barring some actual physical impediment, I can gauge the depth of a student's interest in learning iaido by their willingness to adapt and maintain this posture in class.
As those who have struggled with seiza, let alone iaido kata, know, patience is another lesson of practice. While one could say this about nearly every endeavor, the iaidoka becomes, and stays, well acquainted with her limitations throughout the time of practice, whether for months or years or a lifetime.

After 16 years, I am still learning kata. The okuiai set, consisting, in our practice, of 18 forms (kata), is constructed in such a way as to make any weaknesses in my previous practice readily apparent. As a beginning student, I used to admire my teachers gliding though these forms, thinking they didn't look so hard. I was anxious to get through the basics and learn the cool stuff. Well, without the basics, I can't even approach the cool stuff. One lesson learned.

Service is a way of giving back to the teachers, and more importantly, the tradition from which we have learned so much. Students who have practiced enough to achieve dan rank but haven't developed this quality are rare, though there can always be one who maintains what I call a "small heart." Such a person eventually finds himself isolated from the inner life of the dojo. He comes to practice and the teaching and other responsibilities swirl around him. Usually, though, he won't even notice the difference.

Iaido also teaches courage, whether you want it or not. Try teaching a 250-pound beginner a partner kata in which he has to attack you when he has yet to learn about timing, distance or anything else. Needless to say, courage goes along with patience.

In spite of all the romantic notions about teachers never getting hit by their students, all the teachers I know have been bopped pretty good on occasion. One guy who beaned me on the head because I blocked improperly (his wooden sword strike), braced himself for what he was certain would be a retaliatory strike. "Forget it, it was my fault," I said, as the stars cleared out of my head and flew back to the heavens where they belonged. (This is not the same as someone deliberately trying to hurt someone else. While something like that might earn a cuffing at a karate dojo, it should result in expulsion from an iai dojo.)

Iaido is worth studying because it is really about life. Life that goes on outside the dojo. Life that includes patience, such as when one's spouse is in a bad mood about one's frequent trips to the dojo. Generosity, as in showing someone the right way to wear hakama (traditonal pleated pants) even though it's funnier to let them figure it out by themselves. Courage, as in right action towards other people. This last one is difficult (even unfashionable), but very important.

A teacher-friend of mine has said you can tell when someone has devoted his life to the ethical pursuit of martial arts. It shows in his every action, and not because he looks like someone who can kick butt. Rather, he looks like someone who doesn't need to kick butt at all.

That's not to say other martial arts practices don't or can't teach the same things I've outlined above, or that potential students may not exhibit noble characteristics from the start. To paraphrase Musashi Miyamoto, "each one practices as he feels inclined," but, as my teacher says, in particular, "Iaido is philosophy." Philosophy is generally about how to live in the world. That's a pretty good reason to study nearly anything. Iaido should ultimately go beyond "self-realization" or "self-improvement" - it should go beyond the self-altogether.

New York Budokai group shot, October 2000. Left to right: Phil Ortiz, Deborah Klens-Bigman, Dan Mayorga, Chad Kinkle, Stan Chin and Jin Okazaki. Photographer unknown. Dojo manager Deborah Klens-Bigman performing at the Sakura Matsuri, in 1995. Photographer Jackie Hoffman Chin. Deborah Klens-Bigman performing at Otani Sensei's memorial enbukai February 2005. Photographer Keith Trumbo. copyright 2005 Keith Trumbo

Iaido class at New York Budokai (then New York Iaikai) circa 1986. Photo by Deborah Klens Bigman.

Thank you to Deborah Klens-Bigman the New York Budokai for their assistance in putting this together.

© Deborah Klens-Bigman