Remembering Mitsunari Kanai Shihan: Personal Reflections
by F. Ishu Ishiyama
Chief Instructor of Vancouver West Aikikai
Associate Professor, University of British Columbia
March 28, 2005
Kanai sensei at New England Aikikai, Boston. 1975
One year has passed since Kanai Sensei's untimely death on March 28,
2004. Kanai Sensei continues to occupy a very special place in my heart.
His presence has become even stronger, with my fond memories and deep
appreciation of him, and with some regrets. Not one day passes without my
thinking of him. At our dojo, we have set a small photo stand of him next
to the picture of O-Sensei in kamiza (sacred upper/front side of
the dojo). Most of my students have no idea who Kanai Sensei is, how much
he has inspired me in Aikido, and how respectful and fondly I feel toward
him.
I met Kanai Sensei in Boston in 1974 for the first time. I was nidan in
Aikido at that time, originally trained in Osaka, Japan. We made an instant
personal connection when we first met, partly because we could converse
freely in Japanese and we had a similar sense of humour. In addition,
I was deeply attracted to his Aikido techniques and theory of budo
(martial art), as well as to his personhood. He was a living Samurai,
with a gentle and kind manner toward others, but with stern self-discipline
in his solitude and uncompromised commitment to the pursuit of Aikido as
budo.
Kanai sensei. Boston. 1975
I was also impressed with his artistic talents and refined sense of
beauty, as evidenced in the dojo décor, his Japanese-style study at
home, and his handcrafted saya (scabbard) and other sword
ornaments. And, oh, his long hair. I quickly got used to his habit of
pushing back his hair with both hands away from the face after each throw
in his Aikido demonstration. I almost developed the same habit even though
I didn't have a long hair like his!
At seminars and summer camps, I often translated for Kanai Sensei and
took uke for him. I stayed at his home, every time I visited him
in Boston to receive his private and regular class instructions. We stayed
up for hours talking about Aikido, Japanese swords, and personal episodes,
over dozens of cups of tea and occasionally glasses of brandy, until the
sun rise. He used to say chuckling, "We've done it again. We'd better get
some sleep." He was developing a theory of budo, at that time.
I was sort of his sounding board, who was in awe of his precise thinking
and pragmatic technical deliberations and also was full of curiosity and
desire to learn and absorb things from Kanai Sensei.
Kanai sensei. Boston. 1975
When I stayed with him for a week one year, we did our usual all night
talking. The next day when we went to the dojo, he offered me a sword
(made by Kanetoshi, Edo period) as a gift. He showed me how to make
Japanese-style scabbards and handles. We worked on our art projects side
by side at the dojo. (I basically imitated him, very poorly.) He had about
half a dozen Japanese swords lying around at the dojo. He let me use one
of them and gave me Iaido lessons during my stay, but always stopped the
Iaido practice when students started arriving.
Kanai Sensei used to tell me about helmet-splitting as a way of testing
the sharpness and strength of a sword. He himself tried cutting a
US-military helmet with a sword and was half-successful in cutting it but
wrecked his sword. One day back in Montreal, I remembered this episode,
and I thought I would try something similar. There was no helmet, but an
empty one-gallon metal can. I brought out the sword given by Kanai Sensei,
and tried to cut it into two. I tore it half way down nicely and the metal
can collapsed. My sword had two fresh and serious scratch marks on each
side. Realizing it was too late to reverse this stupid decision, I kept
this incident to myself. However, I must have mentioned it to someone
over a drink by a slip of tongue; eventually it reached Kanai Sensei's ear.
In his usual all-accepting and non-blaming manner of speech, he said,
"I heard you cut a metal can instead of a helmet." I admitted. I was
relieved that he almost sounded amused, not at all upset that I had
spoiled his gift.
Kanai Sensei's day often started in the early afternoon. The A&W
Restaurant (I think this was the name but am not certain) across the street
from his old dojo was the hang-out for him and his students at that time.
The dojo had a white canvas cover, which I found very slippery to practise
on. I remember training with "big Americans" like Lou (with an Italian
family name), Fred Wagstaff, and Fred Newcomb. Sharon Mann was the dojo
secretary who later moved to California to work in a movie industry.
She used to pick up and drive Kanai Sensei around. All his students just
loved him as an individual and a teacher and also appreciated beauty,
power, and gracious gentleness in him as a man and as a martial artist.
Kanai sensei. Montreal. 1975.
I was living and studying in Montreal from 1973 till 1979, and taught
Aikido at several dojos as a young and inexperienced
instructor-practitioner. I needed a teacher-mentor, and Kanai Sensei was
there for me. He and I corresponded by mail and telephone between our
meetings in seminars in the East Coast and Canada. One time, I asked him
to teach me more, and he wrote back to me, saying: "Don't expect to be
taught. You must steal from your teacher." My old friend, Jim Wright
(now in Toronto) still remembers my telling the dojo members this
exchange.
"Why don't you move to Boston and study with me?" Kanai Sensei invited
me to be his uchideshi in 1975. I was deeply honoured, but I
needed time to make up my mind. I had to deal with a number of issues,
including my student visa status in Canada and my education (I was
preparing for my graduate study at McGill University). I had to disappoint
him in the end. Instead of becoming his uchideshi, I became his
sotodeshi (non-live-in disciple).
Kanai sensei. New Hampshire
Summer Camp. 1974
My life would have been totally different and my Aikido would have been
much better, if I had accepted his invitation. I went to stay with Kanai
Sensei and his family 1987 or 1988, and we reminisced our days back in the
1970's. (By then I had moved to British Columbia to teach Aikido and also
have a full-time university teaching position). He said, "If you had come
to Boston at that point, imagine how you would have been." Although he was
jovially saying that I had made a good career choice, I sensed a speck of
sadness in the tone of his voice. Instead of staying close to him, I moved
to the West Coast Canada in 1979, and rarely visited him in Boston, except
for occasional phone calls and his several visits to the British Columbia
Aikido Summer Camp. Kanai Sensei kept saying, "When are you coming out
East? Find an excuse to visit Harvard, and come out to see me." Especially
after his heart operation, I started phoning him regularly, which he seemed
to enjoy very much. However, I continue to regret that I did not make
efforts to visit him in person.
Kanai sensei. New Hampshire. 1974
My telephone record shows that we talked on the phone for 31 min. on
Dec. 19, 2003. I began planning a seminar with Kanai Sensei out in
Vancouver, British Columbia. Joel Posluns from San Francisco Aikikai,
who had joined our dojo in 2003 as an instructor, also liked the idea and
we started talking about the details mid-March, 2004. On March 25,
I received a personal letter from Kanai Sensei. (It was post-marked
March 16 in Boston, first delivered to my previous address and then finally
reached me.) In his letter, he talked about his future plans and what he
envisioned to be a truly sincere and pure endeavour to pursue Aikido and
to transcend unnecessary power-politics and egotistical personal
attachments. He again invited me to join him and assist him. Before I had
a chance to respond to this invitation, he passed away suddenly.
I missed the final chance to say "Thank you" and "Good-bye."
Regrettably, we have lost a great Aikido teacher too soon.
Also, I have lost a truly great friend. However, my fond memories of
Kanai Sensei and his inspirations are very much intact in my heart.
When I close my eyes, I can hear his voice, see his gentle smile,
and feel his quiet and powerful presence.
Ishu Ishiyama
2005-3-28