Possibly one of the biggest problems with the sword is all the exaggerations, romances, and pure fictions that are commonly believed about it. While the purpose of this blog is to express the larger lessons I've learned from my practice of various sword arts, it's important to state right off the bat that these lessons are drawn from the reality of the sword, not from fantastical notions of it and its uses.
One of the great romantic ideas out there is the powerful warrior with his razor-sharp sword, defending the weak and the helpless. It's a fine ideal from which one can draw all manner of metaphors, some of which might actually be useful. But it's not true.
Oh, sure, there were plenty of powerful warriors, and some of them must even have been noble enough to defend the weak. We see that in our own time and it must surely have been the case in times of old, though I doubt it was the rule, just as it is not today. No, as nit-picky as it seems, the part I take exception to is the razor-sharp sword.
Of the Sword
The sword was the dominant form of military technology for centuries. It changed its shape, size, and use, just as firearms do today, but for much (if not most) of our race's known history, swords and their wielders were the force to be reckoned with on the battlefield and in private conflicts.
And they were sharp. Swords were sharp. No one is denying that. Historical data confirms that a well-dealt blow could cleave a man from shoulder to hip, from the crown of his head to his navel. That's something no blunt weapon could do, but it's also not something you could do with a razor blade.
One of the big challenges of the sword maker's art was to craft a blade that could both hold a cutting edge and defend its wielder against the kind of blows described above. It needed to be both sharp and strong. It also needed to be light. Even a strong man would be hard-pressed to wield a sword for very long that weighed more than a few pounds. So there were multiple characteristics to consider. Not so much a compromise as a balance of traits.
Imagine the implications for a moment. Say a sword is honed to a razor-thin edge. This would limit the thickness of the blade because of the angle required to achieve such an edge. This, in turn, would affect the strength of the blade. Now imagine that such a sword were to be used in combat. Every time that razor-thin edge met the rim of a shield, a piece of armor, or an opposing weapon it would bend, chip, or break. Soon, the sword would be left with no useful cutting edge at all, greatly reducing its effectiveness.
But what if the metal was of superior strength, you say? Fine, but a very strong steel razor blade will never withstand a powerful blow from a lead pipe, let alone something designed as a combat weapon. Oh, it might leave a mark, but only for as long as it took to destroy the edge. A well-crafted sword could last, with proper care, for generations. For all that time, it would still be capable of holding its edge. But not if it was continually being ground to razor sharpness and broken upon the weapons and armor of adversaries.
In other words, there's a reason we have the term "razor-sharp." It is that only a razor needs to be that sharp. For a sword, the ideal is a balance of a sharpness, strength, and weight.
Of Life
Here's the lesson I'm going to draw from this today: in order to be truly fulfilling, a life must be balanced. Too much emphasis on any one aspect weakens the others. Just as a sword needed to balance edge, strength, and weight, a person needs to balance body, mind, and spirit. Let us call the mind the edge, the spirit the strength, and the body the weight.
Neglect of the body leads to one of two basic results: heaviness or sickliness. The person becomes either too slow and cumbersome to accomplish certain useful ends, or is too light and frail to withstand the ordinary uses of mortality. Now, I realize that certain complicating factors make some people more inclined to heaviness or sickliness than others. I'm not talking about inherent genetic tendencies. I'm speaking of neglect. Even a person with genetic disadvantages can improve and refine what they have.
Turn that coin over now. Over-emphasis on the body leads to dulling of the mind and weakening of the spirit. It's the dumb-jock stereotype. The shallow bodybuilder. Stereotypes are usually unfair, but they can come from legitimate places. Too great a focus on the body leads to great physical fortitude without the knowledge or wisdom required to use it well.
Now the mind. We live in a time when people live alternate lives in the realm of the mind. We are one person in "real life" and another person online. But we pursue our online lives with such vigor that it becomes our real life and our bodies waste away in its service. We admire and even deify characters with advanced mental prowess. We spend our time seeking information, perhaps more than knowledge, which gives us razor-sharp responses to anyone who dares to disagree, but our depth of understanding is thin and fragile. Also, we lose the sense of humanity that comes from a balanced life. We have too sharp an edge, and too little strength and weight.
Neglect of the mind has obvious consequences, too. Those who do not sharpen their mental capacities still tend to believe they are a match for anyone. But when they are put to the test their ignorance is revealed and they retreat into defensiveness and meanness.
Finally, the spirit. Consider this as the strength of the blade - the content and temper of the metal. A strong, consistent composition is what enables a blade to remain sharp even after receiving many powerful blows. It is what allows the sword maker to remove unnecessary weight, making the whole weapon more flexible, more maneuverable, and quicker.
A strong, consistent spirit gives a person a grounded sense of humanity, an aspiration to improve in every area of life, and the will to work for desirable results. Flexibility, humility, wisdom. These are all things that come from the spirit.
It's hard to overdo the spirit, but it is easy to overreach it. Spirituality and spiritualism are two different things. The first is admirable and necessary. The latter is meaningless. It is the person who seeks for things that cannot be understood (often because they are not real). It is the person who spends all day praying instead of taking the action that would facilitate the things prayed for. A strong spirit requires a balance all its own.
Like the well-crafted sword, the well-lived life requires a balance of important character traits. Over or under-emphasizing any of them puts a person and a weapon out of proportion, and therefore at unnecessary risk.
