I learned Kendo at a Zen Temple when my long legs kept cramping up during meditation. My Roshi was a lot like Yoda, short and deadlier than I could ever hope to be. I finally 'defeated' him by dragging a huge two handed claymore into the zendo, the scraping sound wrecking several hopefull attainments of satorie and inspiring a impromptu tea ceremony and exchange of haikus and bawdy limericks. I've always loved the studied ballet of swordsmanship. A lightsabre SAK would be so elegant compared to this incessant flicking of Philipine Butterflys, gravity knives and um, RSKs <img src="/images/graemlins/blush.gif" alt="" />