修行会

109「天照すいづ輝くこの中に八大力王の雄叫びやせん。」- 植芝盛平

Original Waka

天照す
いづ輝く
この中に
八大力王の
雄叫びやせん

植芝盛平 (Ueshiba, 1977)

Translation¹

“Amaterasu, shines forth, here in the midst—Eight Great Power Kings’ battlefield cry, raising it, shall it be done?” – Morihei Ueshiba

Waka Translation

Amaterasu—
emerging, blazing with light,
in this very midst—

Eight Great Kings of Power‘s
war-cry, to raise it, shall we?

Morihei Ueshiba

歴史的仮名遣い（語構成を明示）^{1, 2}

天照す（あまてらす）
出づ輝く（いづかがやく）
此の中に（このなかに）
八大力王の（はちだいりきおうの）

雄叫びやせん（おたけびやせん）

植芝盛平

Bungo Romanization

Amaterasu
izu kagayaku
kono naka ni
Hachidai Rikiō no
otakebi ya sen

Ueshiba Morihei

Notes

¹ Using 旧仮名づかい for 出づ and classical auxiliaries; original prints also appear with 「…やせん」.

² Lines 2 is ji‑tarazu against the ideal 5–7–5–7–7. This is common in waka/tanka, especially with proper names or compounds; mild over/underruns are historically tolerated.

Translation, Notes, Commentary, and Research by Latex G. N. R. Space-Coyote

Ueshiba, M. (2025). 植芝盛平道歌–109: Amaterasu, center—war cry (L. G. N. R. Space-Coyote, Trans.; OpenAI ChatGPT-5 Pro, Ed.). Shugyokai.org. https://shugyokai.org/8y0i (Original work compiled 1977)

天（あま; ama）— heaven, sky, space; the sound ama also evokes ama 海女 “sea woman / diver,” attested since early Japanese poetry, given that the shimo-no-ku ends in 海の底 “sea bottom,” you can hear a faint sound‑level pivot linking heaven (天) and sea (海) via homophony in ama and the eventual immersion into the sea depths. It’s not a classical textbook kakekotoba like hi 日/火/思ひ, but it’s very much the same style of multi‑layer sound play (cf. Shirane, 2005; Bouchikas, 2017).

天照す（あまてらす; Amaterasu）— plays as a kakekotoba, as it evokes both the verb “to shine from heaven” and the name of the Sun‑goddess Amaterasu‑Ōmikami; Amaterasu rules Takamagahara as the solar power; in language study, amaterasu is transparently “heaven‑shine”; Ueshiba’s dōka (道歌) often invoke Shintō cosmology in exactly this way. The line appears in several curated lists of his poems. Because the same graph string can be read both as a verb phrase “heaven shines” and as the proper name Amaterasu, the line works as a pivot: deity and act of shining are fused. Brower & Miner (1961) note this kind of semantic double‑load as a hallmark of classical waka rhetoric. In practice this reads almost like a vocative or heading: “Amaterasu—”, setting up the entire waka as a manifestation of solar kami.

いづ / 出づ（izu）— classical particle and combining form; in this context, it functions as an archaic interrogative / indeterminate adverb, roughly equivalent to a combination of いつ (itsu, “when”) and いづこ (izuko, “where”); kakekotoba as 厳 (厳の御魂, いづのみたま; the “severe / rigorous” principle [aspect of divine radiance]), as 出づ (to emerge, to come out); alludes to place name 出雲 (“land of the kami” where 出雲大社, dedicated to 大国主大神 / 大国主 of the 別天津神, is located; incidentally 大国主大神 brother to 天照大神). See dōka 102. Here, “to emerge” → epiphany of light.

輝く （かがやく; kagayaku）— verb “to shine,” “to glitter,” or “to be splendid / radiant”; light spreading in all direction (DIGITALIO, n.d.).

いづ輝く（いづかがやく; izu kagayaku）— carries a meaning of “wherever,” “whenever,” or “in all places / times”; kakekotoba as 厳輝く (いづ輝く) “the awe-Inspiring shines / glitters” or “the solemn/severe shines / glitters”; combining both meanings produces “majestic or powerful shining/radiance”; additional kakekotoba as 出づ輝く (いづ輝く) “to emerge / to come out / to appear”; combining all three meanings creates a beautiful image of a powerful, majestic light that is both emerging and already shining brightly. Because 出づ has both process and result, 出づ輝く carries “now emerging” and “already blazing”—matching Ueshiba’s fondness for describing cosmic energy as simultaneously immanent and eruptive.

この中に / 此の中に（このなかに; kono naka ni）— “within this middle / center / inside”—echoes Ueshiba’s frequent teaching about standing at the naka (the centered middle) where heaven and earth converge (cf. the adjacent poem “天地に気結びなして中に立ち…”); this line neatly closes the kami‑no‑ku: the sun‑deity’s radiance is not remote; it is focused “right here, in this center,” which can be read as the body‑center of the practitioner, the dōjō space, or the “middle path” in ethical terms.

出づ 輝くこの中に（いづかがやくこのなかに; izu kagayaku kono naka ni）— “shines forth here in the midst”—a spatial / spiritual “center.” In Ueshiba’s discourse this “center” often resonates with the budō body‑center (tanden/hara) and a present‑moment cosmology (naka‑ima), though the latter term is not explicit in the text.

八（はち; hachi）— eight.

大（だい; dai）— great.

八大力王（はちだいりきおう; Hachidai Rikiō）— Ueshiba’s syncretic epithet for protective, awe‑inspiring powers. Readers often map it to Buddhist–Shintō guardian complexes such as the Eight Great Dragon Kings (八大竜王; Lotus Sutra dharma-protectors) whom are water/dragon deities who assemble when [a thus-come] Buddha preaches, and functions as dharma protectors. Also may map to cults of Hachidai Rikison (八大力尊) venerated for foundational strength and overcoming adversity; the phrase functions poetically as “the Eight Great Power Kings”. Ueshiba (steeped in Ōmoto Shintō‑Buddhist syncretism) frequently repurposes traditional names; reading 力王 as “Power Kings” keeps the text as written while acknowledging likely allusion to the guardian‑deity complex known as 八大竜王. The tanka preserves that grandeur without forcing a single doctrinal identification drawing on Buddhist guardian kings, and known cults in culture re‑cast with 力 (“spiritual/martial power”) to suit budō imagery. This is very much in line with the Ōmoto‑based, Shintō‑Buddhist syncretism around him.

雄叫び （おたけび; otakebi）— an old word for a brave “war‑ / battle- cry; heroic shout” also names a vocal / breath practice in Ueshiba’s circle; the poem’s close (“… yasen” — classical volitional) carries an exhortatory, liturgical ring: “let [it] be raised”; modern lexica gloss it as ‘heroic shout, roar’ and note its association with courage.

や（ya) — や is a classical exclamatory / interrogative particle; in waka it functions as a kireji, a “cutting word” that creates a turn or emotional spike (Shirane, 2005). Here it splits off 雄叫び from the following auxiliary.

せん / < せむ （sen / semu）— late classical/early modern phonetic form of せむ, the volitional or conjectural auxiliary mu attached to the irrealis of す (“to do”). Roughly “shall (we) do [it], will (there) be [it].” (Shirane, 2005; Frellesvig, 2010); や + せむ/せん are textbook exclamatory particle + volitional auxiliary combinations described in classical grammars (Shirane, 2005).

雄叫びやせん（おたけびやせん; otakebi ya sen）— “(shall) the war‑cry be raised?” / “Let us give the warrior shout, shall we” / “shall (we) give the warrior cry?”; 雄叫び is an old word for a brave war‑shout; や…む/ん forms a rhetorical prompt. As martial habitus this aligns with kiai (spirit shout) in budō.

Classical verbs/auxiliaries. 出づ (izu) is the bungo base of modern 出る; や…せん(=せむ) expresses rhetorical volition. These are standard classical forms explained in college grammars (kakari‑musubi with や, and the modal む).

Orthography. Showing 出づ, やせむ in 旧仮名 is orthodox bungo presentation; retaining the poem’s …やせん reflects later spelling habits while preserving bungo modality.

Prosody tolerance. Waka/tanka frequently permit ji‑amari / ji‑tarazu, especially when proper names or Buddhist terms are involved; this is noted in modern tanka scholarship and criticism. Hence line 4’s proper‑noun overrun is acceptable.

Kami-no-ku and shimo-no ku. The kami‑no‑ku (upper phrase) concentrates the solar epiphany—Amaterasu “coming forth” and kagayaku (“blazing”)—in the center. The shimo‑no‑ku (lower phrase) then releases that contained radiance as communal force: the “Eight Great Power Kings” give voice to it in a single otakebi, matching Ueshiba’s vision of martial practice as the resonance of cosmos, deity, and human heart. 天照す naturally pivots between deity and act—precisely the kind of ambiguity cultivated in classical waka rhetoric (kakekotoba, makura‑kotoba, engo). This double load suits bungo poetry’s compression and is discussed in standard studies of court poetry.

Shintō–Buddhist syncretism. Ueshiba’s imagery often merges Shintō deities (e.g., Amaterasu) with Buddhist protectors. Medieval honji‑suijaku thought (buddhas as “originals” and kami as “manifest traces”) provided a long precedent for such overlap; early 20th‑century Ōmoto renewed this syncretic habitus, strongly shaping Ueshiba’s spirituality. The poem’s arc—solar epiphany → protective roar—sits comfortably in that frame. 

Kotodama & voice. Ueshiba repeatedly framed aikidō as practice of kotodama (the “word‑spirit”), where utterance and breath align with cosmic order. The 雄叫び here is not mere shouting; it’s a formative, protective sound—akin to kiai—that “makes things so” through voiced intent. Academic and dictionary treatments of kotodama corroborate this understanding.

Aikidō’s religious inflections. Scholarly work shows Ueshiba’s aikidō emerged amid Ōmoto networks; his writings and lectures (e.g., Takemusu Aiki) are saturated with Amaterasu, kotodama, and guardian deities. The “Eight Great Power Kings” line squares with this religious‑martial milieu.

Buddhist referent of “八大—王”. While the poem reads 力王 (“Power Kings”), the nearest established category is 八大竜王 from the Lotus Sutra—water/dragon guardian kings widely invoked as protectors. Ueshiba’s diction likely performs a purposeful shift (力 “power”), keeping the guardian valence while intensifying the budō ethos.

Yoin (余韻, lingering resonance). Because the poem ends on やせん, a question / volition, it deliberately does not resolve the action. The reader is left in the echo of a war‑cry that is about to happen, or is happening in an unseen dimension. That open‑endedness is classic waka “after‑sound,” where the emotional and imagistic impact continues beyond the last word (Brower & Miner, 1961). 

Other sources. This dōka is found in 武産合気 (Takahashi, 1986, p. 40), yet reads 「天照らすみいず輝くこの中に八大力王の雄叫びやせん」, changing 天照すいづ to 天照らすみいず.

Shugyokai note. It is important to continue (i.e., -te form principle) of previous dōka and realize that the center, middle, inside as the light illuminating across the entire interior of the body‘s “ocean” to its deepest depths, not some “center of gravity”. The waves in the “entire body” and permutations thereof are the joy, resounding.