As a novice, the karateka is told that it is focus, or kime, that will enable him to break boards and devastate opponents. Kime, however, is much more. It has clear mental and spiritual implications as well as its obvious physical ones. It, as with many of the concepts of the marital arts bears a marked resemblance to Zen philosophy. Thus, in attempting to come to an understanding of the nature of kime, and its importance in the pursuit of do, it is helpful to examine kime in relation to Zen philosophy.
Kime is the concentration of all the energy of the mind and body, of the martial artist, on a single goal or objective, at a time. Like the Zen master, the karateka's focus must be on the activities of the present, neither those of the past nor those of the future can be allowed to interfere with what he presently seeks to accomplish. The secret of kime, then, is the exclusion of all thoughts, which are not directly concerned with the attainment of this immediate goal.
The exclusion of all such thoughts, in Zen, is known as mushin, or no-mindedness, a state in which logical thinking is abandoned and consciously considered actions are replaced by intuitive ones. This no-mindedness is not empty mindedness. Rather, in it, the mind becomes like a mirror, reflecting back all that is around it. In this way the mind of the martial artist is freed. As Yagyu Munenori said, "it returns to its natural state", unfettered by unnecessary thoughts. It sees the whole withoug unduly focusing on any one part of the whole. It flows naturally, moving from one situation to another, dealing with each colmly and effectively, like water, flowing an filling every space.
But before the karateka can grasp the true meaning of kime, he must know with his, body, as well as with his mind, what it means to e without thoughts and ideas. He does this by concentrating on the physical aspects of training. Those who believe mushin to be purely spiritual, ignoring its physical aspects, might just as easily achieve mushin by getting mindlessly drunk or falling into a deep dreamless sleep. Either way, his mind would be cleansed of all thoughts and ideas. The state of his body, however, would rob both kinds of trance of all meaning. To achieve kime, the body must be prepared as well as the mind. For the best way to experience perfect kime is to cleanse the mind of all thoughts of victory or defeat and to put the karateka's well trained body into such a state of equilibrium and peace the its ordered running removes its very existence from the mind. In such a state the karateka will not have to concern himself with either his routine bodily functions of practice of his technique, mushin will be complete and perfect kime assured. Master swordsman, Yagyu Munenori describes the achievement of such a state by the swordsman, thusly:
"Learning and knowledge are meant to be 'forgotten', and it is only when this is realized that you feel perfectly comfortable...However well a man may be traininged in the art, the swordsman can never be the master of his tchniquel knowledge unless all his physical hinderances are removed and he cand keep the mind in a state of emptiness [mu], purged even of whatever technique he has obtained. The entire body toether iwh the four limbs will then be capable of displaying for the first time and to its full extend all the art acquired by training of several years. The body conscious effort on the part of the swordsman himself...All the training is there but the mind [shin] is utterly unconscious of it. The mind does not know where it is. When this is to the windws, with a mind perfectly unaware of its own workings, with the self vanished nowhere anybody knows, the art of swordsmanship attains its perfection..."
This conception of the means to physical perfection is true for the karateka as well. Years spent in the perfection of technique, through diligent application to training, create the condition necessary for the body to function independently of the mind's conscious thoughts, to flow with mushin. With much training, techniques become second nature to the karateka. He no longer needs to concentrate on their execution; they flow naturally following the path of leas resistance. Without such early training the attainment of perfect kime would be extremely difficult, if not impossible.
Early training not only disciplines the student in his technique but also teaches him the most effective way to use his body in order to maximize the potential energy that it possesses. Effective kime depends on the correct use of the karateka's tanden. For the tanden is the center of gravity of his body, but, more importantly, it contains his ki, the life giving force of his body. Zen dictates putting the mind into the tanden and directing the ki from there. It is the energy of kit that is harnessed and directed to achieve kime. Use of the tanden, like the master of technique, becomes second nature only with practice.
However, concentration on the execution of a technique or correct use of the tanden prevents the karateka from achieving kime by filling his mind with extraneous thoughts, preventing its natural flow. Consider, for example, the novice training ido-kihyon with his instructor. They face each other in zenkutsu-dachi and the instructor attacks with oi-tsuki. The student is to step back out of the reach of the instructor's technique before it contacts him. At the beginning of the exercise the student is tense and expectant. His whole consciousness is filled with the idea of getting out of the way before getting hit. After many repetitions, and many bruises, the students body becomes exhausted and, therefore, totally relaxed. Finally, his mind ceases to care whether he is hit or not. He reacts intuitively and is finally able to move fast enough to avoid his instructor's attack. Pleased with his escape, he may determine not to be hit again, only to once again find himself the victim of another blow. His determined effort to repeat his escape prevents him from the very goal he seeks.
Determined effort, while necessary on one level, is clearly detrimental on another. Undeniably the student must concentrate and apply himself to the master of technique, learning how he must use his tanden, the center of gravity, to give power and meaning to them; but clearly he must also be able to abandon his thoughts and simply allow his techniques to flow naturally. This idea is clearly illustrated in the parable of the boy and the karate master.
"A young boy traveled across Japan to the school of a famous martial artist. When he arrived at the dojo he was given an audience by the sensei.
'What do you wish from me?' the master asked.
'I wish to be your student and become the finest karateka in the land,' the boy replied. 'How long must I study?'
'Ten years at least,' the master answered.
'Ten years at least,' said the boy. 'What if I studied twice as hard as all your other students?'
'Twenty years,' replied the master.
'Twenty years! What if I practice day and night with all my effort?'
'Thirty years,' was the master's reply.
'How is it that each time I say I will work harder, you tell me that it will take longer?' the boy asked.
'The answer is clear. When one eye is fixed upon you destination, there is only one eye left with which to find the Way.'"
The young boy in the parable was prepared to devote all of his energy to the master of the physical aspects of the art without considering the important mental and spiritual ones. As a result, the wise instructor knew that it would be more difficult for him to reach his goal of becoming a great karateka, since the ultimate goal of the karateka is not only physical ability but also spiritual development. It is this devotion to the higher goal that separates the karateka, or any martial artist, from the simple sportsman.
Consider the baseball player who has had a run of bad luck, despite his skill and power. He sits in the dugout, the sounds of the crowds' shouts and jeers eating at his nerves. His turn to bat comes. Suddenly, the sound of the crowd, the stands, the world and even he, himself, vanishes from his consciousness. To him, there is only the bat that he holds and the ball he must hit, in the whole world. His whole being, physical and mental, is concentrating on one thing, hitting the ball as far as he can. His single-minded concentration is pure Zen. However, even with this state of mind and body, the may still miss the ball and strike out, even the best player occasionally misses. Since it is only a game it makes little difference. This is not the case with the martial artist. He is not playing a simple game; he is doing battle. The martial artist's fight, traditionally, was life and death. Even though, in modern tournaments, no one's life depends on the outcome of a match, today, [followers] of The Way preserve the same degree of concentration on the actions of the moment that was demanded of their earlier counterparts. Were baseball players to adopt this same spiritual attitude, the Zen attitude, there might well be more players batting a perfect 1000 and pitchers pitching no hitters. Why then, does this never happen? The answer to this question reveals the biggest difference between the martial arts and baseball, or any sport. Anyone with good legs and quick reflexes can become and excellent baseball player, if he trains diligently, without giving any considerations to the state of his mind or the unity of his being. Though a baseball player may be able to use all the energy of his body to hit a ball, without the unit of the mind, body and spirit in a single whole, kime, the ultimate focus is impossible. The martial artist, on the other hand, must focus on the development of his spirit, as well as his mind and body. Anything he does, whether it be as part of his training or part of his everyday life, is done with a strong spiritual meaning. The unit of the mind, body and spirit, this devotion fosters, allows him to achieve the ultimate focus, kime.
When a martial artist executes a technique, be it the punch or a karateka or the cut of a swordman, in order for it to be effective he must focus his entire being onto one single point. If kime is to be achieved, his entire being, mind, body and spirit, must focus upon this point at the same moment. To do this, the mind must be able to perceive and focus on the target and the spirit must be strong and alive in order for the body to find its way to the goal; it must ensure that all of its elements, feet, hips and arms, connect at the precise second required. The timing of this connection is like a steal striking flint. The spark is produced the instant the metal contacts the flint, no one moment before or after. So too must the mind, the spirit and the complete body come together in a strike. This meeting, or connection, is called settsuku, in Japanese. Settsuku is an essential facet of kime. The difference between a technique that posses settsuku and one that does not may seem obscure, but it is not. Compare, for example, the punch of a karateka with that of a boxer. The boxer is conditioned to use his arms in swinging hooks and jabs. The power in his punches comes form his upper body. He, therefore, focuses his training on building upper body strength. The karateka, on the other hand, is conditioned to use his hips to drive his punches into his target. By this, he puts the entire weight of his body into the punch. He, therefore, focuses his training on the development of his body as a whole. As a result the boxer's punch stuns his opponent, while the karateka's shatters and kills.
What then is kime? Kime is the complete and perfect harmony of the mind, body and spirit which allows the martial artist to make maximum use of his potential ability. True kime allows him to counter every attack perfectly, almost effortlessly, without unduly stressing or fatiguing his mind or body. Kime comes from mushin which allows single minded, concentration; a disciplined body, which has 'forgotten it learning,' but not what it has learned; and a strong spirit, now, like the body, a servant of the mind, which gives meaning and power to the actions of the martial artist. As such, kime encompasses many of the objectives of the martial artist in his pursuit of do.
Dō, however, is much more than kime of the objectives which it encompasses. Dō is a way or path to be followed in life. It is endless and profound. For its pursuer, Dō is more than simply training or practicing for a few hours in a week in order to improve skill. It is a path of self-cultivation, a code of ethics directed towards and ideal of human behavior, which influences his daily life. A person who decides to follow Dō cannot help but change his lifestyle, for the ultimate goal of do is self-perfection. Self-prefection, for a mere mortal, seems unlikely if not impossible, but it pursuit is so meaningful that even merely attempting to follow The Way and attaining its ultimate goal is worthwhile. For the karateka, the pursuit of Dō begins with his diligent application to training in the pursuit of kime. He first learns to discipline his body, to make it obey his mind and overcome its previous limitations. Eventually, after much effort, he learns to unify his mind, body and spirit to focus on a target, and attains kime. But, as the master in the parable knew only too well, progress along The Way is naturally slow. The student must be allowed to advance at his own pace. The instructor can push the student to further his progress but cannot pull him beyond where he has progressed. In this way the relationship between instructor and student is like that of the hen and her emerging chick. When the chick is ready to hatch, it begins to peck at the inside of its shell with its tiny beak. The mother hen, on the outside, may help it by pecking and coaxing gently. Should she try to speed the process, or in her anxiety to see her chick, begin to break the shell before the chick is ready, the tender chick will be killed immediately. Self-perfection of the student cannot be hastened, only directed.
Thus kime and physical perfection are not truly the ultimate goal of the martial artist. For him, the pursuit of Dō and the search for self-perfection are fundamentally more important. "The master of the Dō form, the meijin, as a technician whose ability goes far beyond simple physical expertise. His essence is a spiritual one. Self-perfection his salient characteristic..." Karate is first and foremost a school for human character. Kime, then, is a lesser, but important, goal, which is set in his way to help him achieve self-perfection by giving him a clearer view of his 'self'. As such, it reflects both a degree of devotion to the art and a level of progression along The Way.
Dave Rathnow - 1985.