“Go for Broke”

Northern California Koyasan Buddhist Temple - June 2024 Newsletter

This month, Suzuka Kawaguchi and I participated in the second annual Taiko Taikai in Little Tokyo, Los Angeles. The event is an odaiko solo contest, where participants in two divisions either compete by playing a compulsory piece or by performing an original arrangement. Suzuka and I both participated in the former division with a piece called “Go for Broke” by Tiffany Tamaribuchi from Sacramento Taiko - Kaori sensei’s sensei.

“Go for Broke” comes from Hawaiian Pidgin, meaning to give it your all. The term originally is a gambling expression. By wagering everything - going “all in” - you are “going for broke.” During WWII, while Japanese Americans were incarcerated by the U.S. Government following Executive Order 9066, young men from the camps were drafted and even volunteered for military service. They were put in a segregated unit, later combined with Japanese Americans from Hawaii, with the designation 442nd Infantry Regiment. As their battalion’s slogan, they adopted “Go for Broke.” 

The 442nd was sent on dangerous missions and suffered extreme casualty rates. With families locked up for fear of disloyalty, the members of the 442nd had the added burden of proving their loyalty, often with their lives. For this, they are remembered for their heroic spirit.

I want to reflect on this idea of heroic spirit, partially because it is not one that comes easily to me. I don’t particularly like individual competitions, and yet I returned to compete at the Taiko Taikai for a second year. Perhaps you can relate, but the idea of wanting to be the best feels a bit at odds with my upbringing. When we consider the ways in which we are deeply interrelated, it seems somewhat silly to want to win a trophy or title. Indeed, I am indebted to so many people for my successes, that it seems a bit trivial to celebrate one’s self. Furthermore, it seems like competition may invite the ego to grow, where humility may be better suited.

When it comes to taiko, I often emphasize the togetherness of playing. Even when it is our time to solo in a song, we are supported by our fellow players, and it is our job to support others in their solos. Through this, we perform the values of community through our music. In music, there aren’t winners and losers - it’s about sharing a present moment together.

But there are times in life, too, where you must also find support from within yourself. Love, support, gentleness, forgiveness, motivation, accountability - these are all things that at some point, we need to be able to turn inward and find within ourselves. This is not contrary to our interconnectedness with others, but a recognition of ourselves as part of the whole.

I recently read an English translation of the 1937 novel How Do You Live (君たちはどう生きるか) by Genzaburo Yoshino - the book that was inspiration for the recent Hayao Miyazaki movie, “The Boy and the Heron.” It’s the story of a young boy and his Uncle, his mentor, and the philosophy of living a good life. One challenging passage from a letter from Uncle stood out to me in this regard.

“The world is full of people who are not bad, but weak, people who bring unnecessary misfortune upon themselves and others for no reason but weakness. A heroic spirit that’s not devoted to human progress may be empty and meaningless, but goodness that is lacking in the spirit of heroism is often empty as well.”

The story involves a group of friends and how they overcome an incident of bullying, but this took on new meaning for me when I realized that the author was writing from pre-war Japan, in a country that was growing more authoritarian. The author Yoshino was actually arrested and incarcerated for 18 months due to his socialist leanings. The fact that such a beautiful vision of humanity comes through across the century is an inspiration on how we might today deal with difficult times.

While the spirit of heroism can certainly be seen in stories like that of the 442nd or the life of Genzaburo Yoshino, I think we can also engage with it, and even train it, in daily life. 

I asked one of our taiko classes recently if they liked to solo. The answers ranged somewhere between “not so much” and “it’s the worst thing ever.” And yet, when it is their time to solo, they never back down, and they continue to improve with each practice. 

I think that takes a bit of heroic spirit, to face your fears or uncertainties, or to even engage with material that you have not yet mastered. But that is a sure way to grow as a player and as a person. 

This year, I was uncertain if I was able to perform in the taikai, but in honesty, I was also unsure if I wanted to compete. It’s a long trip for a weekend, and I was still unsure of the overall benefit to the community that contests offer. But it was Suzuka’s heroic spirit that inspired me. Here was someone who was willing to put themselves out there and to really put the time in to improving as an odaiko player. Because of her spirit, I also pushed myself to improve as well, and I am grateful for the experience.

With Morgan, Katie, and Lisa from the Kongo class, too, we had a fun weekend road trip together. So somehow this inner drive that Suzuka had to compete led to something much more than the individual - it shaped a lot of lives along the way.

For all our students, I hope that you’ll continue to push yourselves and share your spirit with the world. It’s already a brave thing to commit yourself to something like taiko and perform in front of so many people. I hope through these experiences, you can continue to develop understandings of the human condition and find strength within yourself - both the compassion and discipline that are part of our group’s goals.

Gassho,

Gregory