Defining "Taiko Spirit"
I recently advanced to the Aozora ("Blue Sky") group within my taiko dojo, generally recognized as an intermediate-level group. Entirely by accident, my joining coincides with a time when the group is defining a Mission Statement, goals, and guidelines. We discussed these at some length at my most recent class, and during the process the term "taiko spirit" came up.
Several of us said that it was a crucial element of the group. However, concern was expressed that taiko spirit might not mean the same thing to everybody, so we should take some time during the week to ponder and discuss what it means to us individually.
I would like to share my thoughts here, as taiko spirit is an important part of my life today.
I recently read a post on 37signals' blog about shokunin kishitsu, the craftsman's spirit. This, in turn, linked to an article about Japanese aesthetics from which some quotes were drawn. I highly recommend reading these short articles, as they offer some very interesting insights into the Japanese love of beauty, and what that means.
Craftsman's spirit, of course, is not the same thing as taiko spirit, but I think it's valuable in this case to think about the Japanese idea of "spirit," especially as it relates to things like pride, elegance, and beauty.
To paraphrase something Ken Koshio, one of the members of Fushicho Daiko (the professional taiko group that runs the dojo), recently said during one of our group gatherings: He had been working as a street musician, living and traveling and trying to find "his music," and when he began playing taiko, he realized that his music was, in a very literal sense, right in front of him.
For me personally, when he said that, it made a lot of sense, and defined what I feel is a large part of this thing we call "taiko spirit". It is the essence of bringing your inner self outward, having it become embodied in the sound of this drum that can whisper, or shake the entire room. It is visceral and honest, yet not brutal or base. Put simply, it is an amplifier for your heart.
But taiko spirit is more than just that. It incorporates those things into a group experience, a shared expression, in a way that connects those feelings from every member of the group, allowing them to then feed back into the individual. The synchronized sound of the drum is something that the individual simultaneously becomes lost within, and gains power from.
In this way, it is not just an amplifier for the heart of one person, but for the group itself, as a whole.
And a part of taiko spirit is, I think, the drive to share that feeling with others who are not playing, but who are listening. This is where the pride and confidence inherent in taiko spirit comes in. Taiko spirit has the power to move everyone who hears the drums. It is not just expressing the passion of the players, but beckoning the listeners to share those feelings, too.
For me, this notion of taiko spirit has become a positive element of many parts of my life, beyond those moments when I have bachi in hand. It has begun to give me a more intuitive notion of working in concert with others, and it has enhanced my natural sense of confidence and connectedness to the world. It is, in many ways, as though my "heart," in physical, mental, and emotional meanings, has become stronger.
This, I think, is taiko spirit. It is the experience of the rhythm of life itself.
If you'd like to see an example of what this looks like, here's some video of a couple of recent performances that I participated in at Phoenix Matsuri 2010:
