“A Way of Life”
During a recent conversation with a good friend, I mentioned that I’d passed my Nidan grading. Out of curiosity — having never studied any Budo himself — he asked what was next. I explained that the next milestone would be Sandan, and that I wouldn’t be eligible to attempt it for another two years, during which I’d need to train consistently. He’s a passionate and dedicated boulderer, but he replied: “It’s pretty crazy you can look forward two years in your hobby like that. That’s super cool”.
His response made me pause. On one level, it raised an interesting point about structured progression in Kendo. But what struck me more was the reflexive thought that welled up inside me — and that I caught just before replying — “It’s not a hobby”.
Why would I think that? How ridiculous would that sound to someone outside the world of Budo? Of course, on the surface, Kendo is a hobby like any other. It’s something I do in my free time — for exercise, for fun, for friendship. But after nearly five years walking the path — still early in a typical Kendo journey — I’ve come to realise that my connection to it runs much deeper. So, I wanted to take a moment to reflect. What does Kendo mean to me?
Walking the Path: Growth Through Consistency
I began in 2021, post-pandemic, post-emigration from the UK to New Zealand, eager to meet people and make friends. I still vividly remember nervously stepping into Keiko at Yōshinkan and meeting Patrick (now Sensei Patrick!) and Frank. One of the first things my senpai Alice said to me was “This is a martial art you can do until you die”. I didn’t grasp the truth of her words at the time — I was more focused on how badly I sucked and desperate to see some technical progress!
“A martial art you can do until you die”
That progress came slowly. Often imperceptibly. In fact, above all else, Kendo has taught me growth mindset. It demands consistent, focused effort over months and years before noticeable improvement emerges. The breakthroughs come — whether it’s a grading pass, a shiai win against someone who used to overwhelm you, or just landing a waza cleanly in ji geiko. But those moments are balanced by constant humility: the reminder that no matter how far you’ve come, there is always far more to learn and challenges to overcome. That mindset has rippled outward into my whole life — from my career, to how I meet challenges with resilience, perseverance, and intent.
Life in the Moment
Kendo also gives me something rare and exhilarating: the physical joy and intensity of facing an opponent one to one. Every kenshi who has trained for a while will know this feeling. You rise from sonkyo and lock eyes with your opponent. Your spirit ignites. You give voice to your ki, sharp and real in the world. You close distance, the tension building, and an unspoken conversation begins. You test each other. For that moment, nothing else exists.
Sue Sensei once told me you can learn a lot about someone in that moment. Are they Brave or fearful? Impulsive or deliberate? Easily manipulated or steadfast under pressure? And without fully knowing how, you start to sense what you must do. Whether to seize the initiative, or recognise and respond to their intent before it manifests. Then the moment snaps — and you commit. Everything else falls away. With clarity and courage, you launch forward and strike. If you’re fortunate, you feel the clean impact of shinai on target, your kiai roars from deep within, and you taste a fleeting but real victory.
I will never get tired of that moment. I feel truly alive in it. And if you practice Kendo, I know you understand. In that moment, Kendo really is life.
Belonging to Something Greater
In just a few short years, Kendo has enriched my life in ways I never expected. It’s helped me form strong friendships both within my home dojo and across New Zealand’s Kendo community. It’s taken me to Australia, the UK, and Japan —connecting me with people around the world who share this path. I’ve had the opportunity to give back too — volunteering as my club’s Secretary, helping organise events, and acting as senpai to newer teammates finding their feet.
Through those connections, I’ve met people dedicating their lives to this Budo. From enthusiastic kyu grades with dreams of reaching shodan, to nanadan and hachidan Sensei who’ve been training for decades and travel the world for the sole purpose of practice. Maybe there are other communities like this out there — but I’ve never experienced anything quite like it. And at 36, I think I’ve finally found my people, and my purpose.
I shared this story with Liz Sensei recently, over a beer at second dojo. She’s been doing Kendo for over forty years, and I knew she’d get it — even if I couldn’t fully articulate it. Her response was calm and immediate. She said “It’s not a hobby, it’s a Way of Life”.
