Budo Blues

AGING IRON

2007-02-09T05:12:00.000+09:00

It’s an expression I recently heard applied to the helicopters that have been dropping out of the sky in Iraq. They are full of committed individuals, warriors and healers, dying in their crashes. It has been said that the first casualty of war is the truth. It applies particularly to these events. We’re not there so we don’t know the full story. Insurgents using the same medium as this blog post announcements claming they shot it down. The Pentagon claims that the helicopters are part of an “aging fleet”, and career soldiers on the ground jokingly claim that the machines “have been in the Marine’s longer than I have!” Both sources on “our side” say the crashes are because of ‘aging iron’.

This is also a term that is used in the Japanese sword arts. Typically it refers to tsuba, the sword guards, of the highest quality. Tekko is a word for it in Japanese… and it means “aging iron” (not to be confused with the same term being used for a sort of “iron knuckles” weapon). And it is expanded into the term “tekkotsu” which means “iron bones”.

The steel of a tsuba does not need to hammered and folded as much as the blade so it’s iron composition is less uniform. Over time the softer metal wears away and reveals the harder components locked within… the aging iron reveals its iron bones.

As my years have accumulated I’ve developed an appreciation for different things. I don’t remove the flowers from the kamiza as quickly as I might have at one time. I watch the blooms a bit longer and wonder who will remember their scent. My taste in chocolate has developed a clear preference for bitter-sweet… it seems fuller, more real, more honest, more alive. And I have gradually become more aware of aging iron.

Over the last couple of years my right shoulder began aching. It brought back memories of my father and a difficulty he had with arthritis in his shoulder. It seems so strikingly consistent with other facts in my life… sometimes bits and pieces of his face look back at me from my mirror. I am startled to see that I have his feet and his skin.

In the past year the ache in my shoulder has gotten much worse and can wake me out of a sound sleep. For now I have gotten relief by taking less falls in my practice and more pins. The falls aren’t hurting it; to the contrary they have no effect. But when I take a pin I can ask my partner to really stretch me out… hopefully wearing away the swollen softer parts that are clogging my joints and give more life to my iron bones.

And the clogging is not just in my joints… in my veins as well. What I also inherit from my father is a family history of arterial disease. I have exercised vigorously all my life, not thinking ever about this legacy. But several years ago I was stopped dead… no stopped almost dead… by a heart attack. I actually had two, one I had simply moved through at some point in the past but it left a record of dead tissue. However the second more serious event verified a blockage in a coronary artery… very specific and very atypical. The years of exercise had expanded the capillary network on my heart leading to extraordinary compensatory ability. And my controlled meditative breathing while this attack was in progress probably stopped the escalation of the trauma.

Modern medical science is amazing… and I didn’t die in my fifties like my grandfather, and uncles before me. I had surgery and stents and realized that the tiredness I was experiencing when training was less age and more constriction of blood flow. Within weeks, I was training again, with a new appreciation of Ki and its effects.

But still… my shoulder hurts and I find myself thinking more about “aging iron”. And when I stay at the edge of my breath as I get winded jostling on the mat with younger bucks I wonder… one day will I simply fall out of the sky?

MARTIN LUTHER KING JR ~ MAN OF BUDO

2007-01-17T10:05:00.000+09:00

One of my most influential instructors told me that a true martial artist is a servant of society. The bushido code also expects that the warrior will give his life if need be. Martin Luther King Jr. embodied both of these qualities.

It is hard to explain to those who weren’t there the turmoil of the troubled times of the sixties. The social upheaval was tremendous, so was the sense of idealism… and so was the resistance to change. Dr. King had his life threatened on a regular basis almost from the beginning of his career. There was a reward for his assassination.

Although MLK was worried and aware of his potential end it appears that he would occasionally joke about it with members of his entourage. He told them that although the threat was on his head one of them might take the bullet by mistake. However, if they did, he promised to preach the most stirring funeral imaginable.

But the shooting of President Kennedy put an end to offhand bravado. Again it is hard to describe the effect of this event but for American society it was the end of innocence and the sense of glory and victory after WWII. The point for MLK though was that if they could take out a president then they could take out anybody. Past threats were now predictions of an inevitable outcome.

For me this is why the “I Have A Dream” speech is so powerful. It has the weight and the truth of the words of a dying man. He says he won’t get there with us… he knows he is dead already… but he battles on.

Could you do that? Could you dedicate yourself to serve society with the ultimate sacrifice? Could you persist with commitment knowing with certainty it would cost you life? When you train do you pursue victory? Or a glorious image of yourself dominating a situation? Impressing your friends? Attaining a belt of a certain color or a certain number?

Dr. King waged peace. He had the true “sword of no sword.” This is the ultimate point of Budo. We should train with development as the goal… not of self… but of justice… and especially, love.

OSHOGATSU RENGA 2007

2007-01-05T03:03:00.000+09:00

Graceful emptiness
Shadows of barren branches
Sunrise on the snow

Flowers sleep beneath the cold
Dreams reach through the frozen dark

Time being fleeting as wind
Flowing past in gentle touch then strength
Seeds of hope falling in silence

Beads of effort raining potential of success
Joy, sorrow mixing to create new life

A year with promise
New horizons in my view
I will look forward

Predictions rise like the moon
Peeking from behind the clouds

Like time moving on
Seeking, learning, forgetting too
Forward, I advance

Let the light come in your life.
Embrace it, live it, enjoy.

The past falls away
Lurching, dragging its own corpse
The future leaps, waltzes in

The harmony of the spheres
Music for a dancing mind

Beauty and calmness
Sunlight on cherry blossoms
Morning and promise

May your year be filled with light,
progress, peace, and potential

Nighttime visions fade
Smiling children awaken
Morning has broken

OSHOGATSU RENGA ~ Let’s Celebrate Together

2006-12-31T10:12:00.000+09:00

The New Year is the most important holiday in

Japan

. Although there are many ‘secular’ aspects to it there is also a ‘spiritual’ component. It is a time of renewal, a time to say goodbye to the problems of the past, to forgive misunderstandings and to release grudges. This might be celebrated at a Bonenkai (“Forget the Year” Party).

Western festivities, of party hats and libations, are remnants of ancient Roman times. It seems Rome’s chronological arithmetic was not as good as their engineering math so it was not unusual for their incorrect calendar to run out of days. A space without time was a place without order where chaos ruled… there were no laws. Roles were reversed and masters served servants and there were few limits on appetites. Since the establishment of the Gregorian calendar and Leap Year adjustments things are going smoother but foolishness on New Year’s Eve remains a forgivable offense (except if you’re behind the wheel of a car!).

Since Meiji times the New Year is celebrated observing the Gregorian calendar as well. Although the Chinese calendar has been abandoned most other traditions have not. The celebrations in Japan can last for three days and much preparation is required. Most important is Susuharai (literally “soot sweeping”). Houses are scrubbed from top to bottom but there is a cleansing of the spirit as well… stains of the past year are erased in order to make both inside and out pure and fresh. On New Year’s Eve Kadomatsu (evergreen and bamboo decorations) are place on either side of entry ways to encourage good luck to enter. Shimenawa (sacred ropes with zig zag paper prayers hung on them) are suspended above the main entrance of the home or temple to prevent “evil spirits” from entering.

Two traditions have been particularly important to me. One is a New Year’s Eve workout that begins before twelve (at 11 or 11:30 PM) and finishes after midnight (12:30 or 1 AM). All participants receive a certificate that awards them for “training two years in one night” whereupon everyone shares some warm sake and delectable cuisine.

The other is the composition of a New Year’s poem (haiku or renga). Below, at the end of this post, I will start with one. It would be truly wonderful to have you share your offerings with me as well. This would enable us to have a kogyo (gathering) and allow the poem to really become a renga.

In order to prevent the exercise from becoming “too loose” it is important to establish shikimoku (a set of rules to lay out the stylistic requirements). We’ll keep it simple and most traditional… the verses will alternate in a three line verse of 5-7-5 syllables, followed by a transitional two line verse of 7-7 syllables. (You can write either or both.) The references and theme will be the New Year. The renga will remain open to submissions until midnight January 3, 2007. I will then close it with the ageku.

In the event that contributions are made before the actual poem had been recently updated I will edit for continuity. We will seek to avoid repeating verses or similar images. Try to allow yourself to be inspired by the thoughts and feelings of both the theme as well as the writings of others and compose it “on the spot”.

Sign your name on the comment and it will stay there... I will transfer the text to the post so the dialog will flow continuously without interruption. Even if you’ve never written before try your hand at it. I promise to publish them as they arrive.

So let me end this post by saying, “I hope your New Year begins with laughter. Sweep away all impediments to your progress. Train hard. Practice with sincerity and joy.”

And let me begin the renga with...

Graceful emptiness
Shadows of barren branches
Sunrise on the snow

Flowers sleep beneath the cold
Dreams reach through the frozen dark

HEART – SPIRIT – MIND

2006-12-20T03:28:00.000+09:00

In Japanese it’s pronounced kokoro or shin, depending on the context. It can mean heart, mind, spirit…

As observed in a prior post, (ARTS & CRAFTS) calligraphy is more like a picture and this version of “shin” seems to resemble the shape of the human heart. Perhaps the meaning could be seen as similar to the English word “courage” which is derived from Middle English and also has the root word “heart” (cor/cuer/coer) embedded in the definition.

The phoneme is the same as the “shin” in Shinto” (The Way of the Gods), although it is written differently. But it might be an interesting exploration of some aspects of Shinto as well as some aspects of Japanese language and how these attitudes are reflected in the traditional teaching methods of Japanese Martial Arts.

The discipline of psycholinguistics posits, among many other things, that language is a “map” that shapes your perception. Language is a cultural artifact that contributes to the cohesion of a society. So first lets look at characteristics of the Japanese language.

Communication in Japan is based on a language that prized reticence, sentiment, silence, ambivalence, emotions, subjectivity, situational logic, and particularity.

Japanese culture is reflected in its language. The value of harmony is reflected in a variety of ways including cautious and indirect speech, taking time to sense another’s mood before venturing an opinion, and avoid as much as possible disagreement. Japanese language has at least 16 ways to avoid saying "no" and makes use of many aisatsu, or "lubricant expressions," that serve to reinforce feelings and interdependence and harmony. In English, "yes" and "no" clearly mean acceptance and rejection. In Japanese, however, where creating a mood is more important than the judgment, "no" is rarely used and "yes" may mean "I hear what you are saying" or even "yes, but...."

Japanese perceive that they have perfect indirect, nonverbal ways of communication that are efficient, sophisticated, and elegant. Indirect expressions, intuitive understanding, use of euphemisms, silence, nonverbal language and gesture and the like, are also regarded by the Japanese as esthetic acts, because they are done with style to effect communication with the minimum of words of effort (Masao, 1996).

In addition, speech-minimizing behaviors are also considered both elegant and efficient. Japanese use them stylistically to communicate feelings or uncomplicated ideas. This ability to simplify is very important in Japan, because the speaker must be sure that the words chosen are appropriately respectful to the subject or the listener. Nonverbal communication such as gestures or euphemisms that do not directly "call a spade a spade" is socially "safer" for the Japanese to use and much "cleaner" because they lack the nuances and overtones of direct verbal reference that might give offence or lead to misunderstandings. Such nonverbal messages have an obvious economy, clarity, efficiency, and directness that words cannot achieve (March, 1996).

Communication in the U.S., on the other hand, is viewed as being based on languages that value rhetoric, logic, talkativeness, rationality, objectivity, rigid principles, and universality (Maynard, 1998).[1]

It would seem that the orientation of our language and our culture influences what we expect and perceive. This would include our assumptions about teaching methodology and how knowledge would be presented.

Central to Japanese aesthetics and ethics is the Shinto religion. Starting about 500 BCE (or earlier) it was originally "an amorphous mix of nature worship, fertility cults, divination techniques, hero worship, and shamanism." Its name was derived from the Chinese words "shin tao" ("The Way of the Gods") in the 8th Century CE. Unlike most other religions, Shinto has no real founder, no written scriptures, no body of religious law, and only a very loosely-organized priesthood. (Religious Tolerance.org)

In this religion the basic tenets are passed on by “doing”, by action. This is most exemplified by a “rebuilding ceremony” (shikinen zotai or shikinen sengu) held every 20 years.

When one visits a “jinga” (shrine), they might likely see a complete equivalent ‘plaza’ or ‘site’ next to the current temple. In the rebuilding ceremony the buildings are razed and identical ones are erected on the adjacent sites. When this ceremony is completed the residing Kami (god) is encircled in a long cloth that is held on poles and spiraled around his/her presence so that the kami can be brought to the new residence.

In addition the ‘treasures’ (clothing), and the ‘first foods’ must also be replaced. Twenty years is considered to be the distance between generations so this ceremony provides the opportunity to transfer by “doing” the actual traditional skills to precisely maintain the religious building's inheritance.

So it would seem in Japanese the most important transmissions are through physical actions not words. This might be in stark contrast to a “Socratic” method utilized in the Western ‘rational’ sciences wherein information is “discussed”.

A prominent Japanese martial arts instructor I had for many years was notorious for demonstrating a technique three times and then bowing with open arms to the class indicating it was now up to us to do the technique. This was a typical approach of most Japanese instructors that I have had. In addition I have been taught that it was the student’s responsibility to “steal” the technique, rather than the teacher’s responsibility to clarify its presentation.

After awhile one had to learn how to maximize observations when only given three opportunities. The approach that has worked best for me was to first look at the hand movements, second look at the relationship of the “defender’s” center (hara or tanden) to the “attacker’s” center, and third to examine the footwork.

In later discussions with this particular instructor he told me that he believed that a good instructor made the students work for a technique, made them “dig for it”. In this way they would come to fully understand the technique thus making it truly their own, truly “learning” it.

In his book Budo Training in Aikido, Morihei Ueshiba states:

…but all of this action should be accomplished by the workings of Kokoro. When your mind (Kokoro) is manifested in your body, things go according to Kokoro. Here we are training our bodies but the fruit of it all is the training of the mind or spirit (Kokoro).

But understanding this only with your mind (Kokoro) is not enough. You have to understand and realize this truth with your body.

This then is the core training of any Budo, the sincere and intense bodily act of implementing an action in the physical universe with complete awareness of mind and commitment of spirit. It is the unification of heart, spirit, and mind.

_____________________

[1] Japanese: A Heavily Culture-Laden Language, Fengping Gao, Associate Professor English Dept., Weinan Teachers’ College, Shaanxi, China, Journal of Intercultural Communication, ISSN 1404-1634, 2005, issue 10.

This entire essay can be read at this link.

TAKE THREE YEARS TO FIND A TEACHER

2006-12-09T10:18:00.000+09:00

Years ago, as a new shodan, I attended a seminar conducted by a visiting Japanese master. He had been invited to another dojo that was in my geographic region and within commuting distance. Announcements for the seminar stated that he received his first 5 Dan grades directly from the Founder of the art so it seemed well worth the trip.

This was to be a day of many surprises. The first was his age… he seemed much older than any of the uchi deshi I had trained with in the past. The second was his size… he seemed thin and almost frail… short of stature and maybe 130 pounds at best. And last but certainly not least was his style and approach. It was dramatically different from anything I had encountered to date. He was so soft, so elegant, with posture so perfect… and completed with such ease that it seemed as if he was in slow motion.

This last point of pace I personally tested myself. When fortune would have it that I was chosen by him to take ukemi, I delivered the straight punch to his midsection as fast, as hard, and as clearly as I could. I felt my knuckles just barely touch the cloth of his hakama knot. And just as softly and smoothly as always, he turned effortlessly, leading me down and locking me with all of the power of a hurricane yet seemingly with the strength of a spring breeze. But the impact on my consciousness was like a tornado. All of my previous experience was blown away. I didn’t know what he had but I wanted it!

Consequently after each of his classes, along with other students from our school, we would not leave the mat but instead would continue practicing to see if we could unlock his secrets. This brought some sidelong glances from others attending. In particular one senior instructor came over seeming to admonish us for the extra practice. “Don’t worry about it”, he said, “It’s like a new suit of clothes and you think it’s great because it’s in style.”

That remark redirected my attention more to the others training there. As the seminar continued I became increasingly aware of how many people sat and apparently watched the technique as it was demonstrated only to stand and complete the waza the way they had always done it. It all seemed like a huge disconnect… either no one was ‘seeing’, or no one was ‘doing’, or maybe both.

Since that time I have become more aware of how the training of ‘westerners’, certainly those in the USA, differs from that of their ‘traditional” counterparts in the ‘homeland’. When these arts originated they were ‘secrets’. There was no 'parent organization', there was no ‘promotion’, there was only teaching, learning, and testing in combat.

As the arts developed through time to become ‘budo’, students remained in a small enclave under one teacher. There were no ‘seminars’ or ‘visiting instructors’ and you were expected to accept and practice what you were taught without question. The introduction of something ‘new’ was likely stolen from harsh experience and brought back by a survivor who had countered an unexpected onslaught.

In those days, for someone truly committed, finding a teacher was a critical quest. It is the same today if someone is seeking an ideal as part of a personal journey. Most who study any martial art choose a teacher by virtue of convenience and availability. But how likely is it that one will find a ‘master’ at a local strip mall?

So the expression originally applied to searching for a Zen master was extended to finding a martial arts instructor, “Take three years to find a teacher.” What is meant by this saying is that it will require some development before a student can know even how to go about choosing. It will require some experience to become an ‘informed consumer’.

This should be distinguished from those who hop from art to art or jump from teacher to teacher based on the idea that they will just take what they need and move on. There is no relationship developed here. These are surface contacts. The transitional student might think s/he is a butterfly going from flower to flower, when in fact s/he may actually be a fly going from garbage can to garbage can. Perhaps it’s analogous to a student who has spent six years in college but they are all the freshman year at six separate colleges. The sum total is a different accomplishment than a focused degree.

In the West (or anywhere now), how many times do students go to seminars and leave doing techniques in the same way as they arrived? How much of that is a conscious choice? How much did they experiment with in a new way to see what insight was available, even if they discard the new approach? How conscious is their own practice in their own dojo?

On the last day of what for me was a life-changing seminar, at the end of the last class, this sensei approached us as we again remained practicing. He motioned his translator over and asked us where we were from. He seemed surprised that we had taken what to him seemed a long drive to get there everyday. “I will come back next year.” He spoke in slow but deliberate English, “But I will come to your school.”

And he did! And continued to do so for another eight years. He visited for at least a month every year and during this time I would arrange for is lodging and he lived in a small summer cottage nearby my home. I spent the greater part of everyday with him, talking and training. I became deeply moved by the contrast between his personal generosity and gentle spirit off the mat and his stern severity on the mat. In the latter he was never mean or punitive; he just never let you ease up in any way in your training, not a bit and never even for a moment.

The relationship ended with his death. Or rather the physical contact in our relationship ended. To this day I think of him when there is a problem or a challenge and ponder how he would have dealt with it or the perspective he might take.

His last visit was less than two weeks before he died. Consequently his last lesson was how to leave the planet with grace and dignity. I have spoken to others who trained with him and completely agreed with the remark of a prominent instructor from Europe. “Sensei taught me technique”, he said, “but he also taught me how to be a man, his greatest influence was on me as a person.”

Through my relationship this old sensei, my teacher who I was fortunate enough to find, many doors opened: opportunities to train in Japan, introductions to other eminent masters, steady development in the art. But the ability to see how the tone of the practice, the manner in which the imparted knowledge carries the imbedded philosophy, this has been a critical lesson learned.The 'spiritual dimension' is contained in the practice of the techniques and how the student must learn them. Aspects of character and attitude get ‘smuggled’ in the teaching of the physical. It gets transferred from teacher to student the way a candle lights another candle.

Even if s/he is not aware of it, my guess is that personal attributes of the teacher are being conveyed to the student. Even if the student disregards it, willing to look past obvious personality faults to receive technique that looks practical and functional, I believe such transmission is unavoidable, the way magnetism gets shared by like metals in the same vicinity. So it seems important, “Take three years to find a teacher”!

SAMURAI SONG

2006-11-02T14:28:00.000+09:00

a poem by
Robert Pinsky

When I had no roof I made
Audacity my roof. When I had
No supper my eyes dined.

When I had no eyes I listened.
When I had no ears I thought.
When I had no thought I waited.

When I had no father I made
Care my father. When I had
No mother I embraced order.

When I had no friend I made
Quiet my friend. When I had no
Enemy I opposed my body.

When I had no temple I made
My voice my temple. I have
No priest, my tongue is my choir.

When I have no means fortune
Is my means. When I have
Nothing, death will be my fortune.

Need is my tactic, detachment
Is my strategy. When I had
No lover I courted my sleep.

SWORD SAINTS

2006-11-02T05:01:00.000+09:00

Traditional 'samurai influenced' Japanese culture has the concept of a “sword saint’. This designation is saved for highly developed individuals who embody “bushido”, that is the “code of the warrior”. Samurai did not necessarily refer to themselves with this term. Typically the term “bushi” was used. It is interesting to note that this term derives from the same root as the word for, 'servant'. So contrary to an idealized contemporary idea that samurai were powerful independent individuals, they actually were retained by a lord (daimyo), and without an assignment to 'serve' someone they were without income and security. In a way they were without purpose.

Because bushi served a lord and his family in combat related tasks, loyalty was a critical virtue (Seven Virtues of Bushido). They were servants who were expected to be willing to die if commanded to do so. This awareness of the proximity of death, which ruled their very existence, steeled their spirit and sharpened their understanding of the essentials in life. Some of these individuals achieved enlightenment and liberation and are thus characterized as “sword saints”.

Miyamoto Musahi and Yagyū Munenori were transformed by their interaction with the Zen master Takuan Soho. Tsunemoto Yamamoto is another example, who wrote of the spiritual guide for the warrior, Hagakure (In the Shadow of Leaves . Yamaoka Tesshu is also a “kensai” (sword saint) deemed so because after attaining enlightenment during meditation he founded the “sword of no sword” style wherein he advised that there is no-enemy and that the purity of the style is all that is needed.

But perhaps the most famous example of this concept is the story of the 47 Ronin. The tale has been romanticized, but is based on historical fact. It is the archetypical clash between the self-absorbed privileged class and the dutiful stoic world view.

The story is covered in many places so a summary of events will suffice here. Around 1700 AD, a certain daimyo was granted the honor by the shogun of having direct relations with the Emperor’s family. To prepare him he was to be tutored by the court master of protocol in the required etiquette. A conflict festered because the master of protocol expected a 'kickback’ as it were, which the daimyo refused on the basis that the master was required to fulfill his duty as a command from the shogun. Matters only got worse.

The dilettante master took it upon himself to humiliate the daimyo at any and every opportunity essentially hiding in the shelter of the protocol. This was obvious to most observers who tended to sympathize with the daimyo’s plight. Finally after suffering a particularly outrageous insult that typically warranted a duel, the daimyo drew his sword at the protocol master. This was a capitol offense and the daimyo ultimately was condemned to death by seppuku. In addition his castle was confiscated and the daimyo’s brother was arrested.

The daimyo’s retainers were outraged by this sequence of events and debated their course of action. The position of one of the leaders, requiring the retainers to give up the castle peacefully while at the same time preparing to take revenge, was the view that ultimately prevailed.

The protocol master had enemies so was well guarded and on the alert for possible reprisals. The ronin's plan was to hide away a cache of weapons and armor and then disband into menial jobs and dishonorable lifestyles. They made it appear that they had lost all self respect and any concern for their class. The leader left his wife and began frequenting brothels and engaging in drunken brawls. Supposedly another samurai spat upon him, saying that he was a complete disgrace.

They did this for about a year until the protocol master dropped his guard. On a snowy evening on December 14th, 1702, the “47 Ronin” attacked the master’s home and took it completely by surprise. They eventually found him cowering in an outhouse. He was offered the choice to commit seppuku but he refused; so he was decapitated with the same dagger that the daimyo had used to kill himself. The ronin then walked to daimyo's grave and placed the head upon it. After that, they turned themselves into the Shogun. Despite pleas from many for clemency because of their honor they ultimately all accepted the sentence of death and committed seppuku as had their daimyo.

The event remains controversial. Some say they should never have acted at all, others say they waited too long (thus leaving too much of an opportunity for the master to die from other causes leaving their daimyo unavenged) and still others say that they should have committed seppuku immediately rather than turn themselves into the shogun (thereby looking as if they hoped for a lighter sentence, which would be deemed a dishonorable outcome).

However among the outcomes was that the family name and honor was restored and the brother was freed and allowed to re-establish the clan. The remaining ronin (other than the attackers) were again hired, both there and elsewhere.

Nevertheless the story has been told and retold and become the stuff of legend. Some feel it is a classical story of revenge rather than a tale of bushido values. Others say that to understand the story of the 47 Ronin is to understand the spirit of Japanese samurai.

ARTS & CRAFTS

2006-10-27T02:20:00.000+09:00

There will be a perpetual debate in the martial arts world as to the relevance, importance, practicality, effectiveness, (etc. etc. etc. ad infinitum) of studying the more formal Japanese martial arts such as Aikido, Judo, Karate-do, Kendo, or Kyudo. It is part of the wheel of life and will never stop turning.

What has to be distinguished here is the difference between a "jutsu" and a "do" (like between Jujutsu and Judo). The former is a 'craft' the latter is an 'art'. The former is a system of 'tactics' the latter is a 'way of life'.

In both cases its as if something has been broken but with a 'jutsu' it's like sending a janitor to sweep up the pieces whereas with a 'do' it's like sending a repairman to put the pieces back together (or better yet to indicate how to avoid the break in the first place). The saying goes "Jujutsu is a method of self-protection; Judo is a way of self-perfection."

This is the lesson learned by Sugata in Kurosawa’s 1943 movie Sugata Sanshiro where the plot is described as “…a young man, struggles to learn the nuance and meaning of judo, and in doing so comes to learn something of the meaning of life.” This movie is based on the life of Jigoro Kano, the founder of Judo. The current debate existed even then but with far more serious consequences. What is not generally known is that during the infancy of Judo there was so much opposition to its development that there were actual attempts to kill Kano with spontaneous attacks on the street. It is important to note that both Kano and Judo survived these onslaughts.

"Do" is the Japanese pronunciation for the Chinese "Tao" or 'Way'... meaning a 'way of being'. The calligraphy is the same in both languages.

Calligraphy is more like a picture than a word. It is a graphical symbol that represents an idea or concept. These languages evolved from pictograms derived from pictures of the objects they originally denoted: for example, the character used to write the word meaning "moon" is derived from a stylized picture of a crescent moon.

Calligraphy also incorporates the principles of an ideogram. Ideograms are unlike pictograms in that they do not picture things, but "indicate" their use. Examples of ideograms include international symbol signage, such as in transportation terminals and other environments where many people may not be familiar with the local language.

So if you look at the drawn symbol that is the written calligraphy of the phoneme “tao” or “do” then you can envision (on the left side) a person at the start of a winding path which (on the right) opens a window (represented by a rectangular ‘screen’ above which are some ‘motion splashes’). So you could view this representation of “DO” as “a path that opens and enlightens the consciousness”

This is the reason for training.

EVOLUTION OF A BUDOKA

2006-10-25T10:10:00.000+09:00

Please excuse this exceptionally long post. The goal is to provide enough background about the author to validate the collection of thoughts and observations while allowing sufficient anonymity to remain so that there will be as little ego involvement as possible. It is being placed at the beginning of what is hoped to be steady entries into the future. It is intended to sufficiently address the matter of personal history so that it will not need to be revisited.

My first real love was cross country running, which I started in my sophomore year of high school. This new found joy was in stark contrast to my dismal introduction to sports that began with successive Spring failures to make Little League baseball teams (there were ‘try-outs’ in my city). This was followed in late elementary years (now it would be middle school) by a bleak performance on a church basketball league team. What made that season even shorter is that my scrawny body and congenital lack of skill insured that bullies would find me as more fun to dribble than the ball.

Sometime during this period a significant factor contributing to horrid hand-eye coordination was uncovered. It seems I was as nearsighted as a mole. However, the subsequent remediation of prescription eyeglasses and the requirement to wear them constantly only enhanced my function as a target for young male aggression.

Disregarding the presentation of a clear omen (the impossibility for me to be fitted with the appropriately sized shoulder pads) I collaborated in my own murder plot by playing high school freshman football. There was injury upon injury but the embarrassment of quitting was worse than enduring the battering. At least some benefit had been gleaned from years of school yard beatings… a high pain threshold. My inevitable death was fortunately averted by an act of God in the form of a failing notice in Latin. The ensuing academic probation carried with it a prohibition against playing any sport. To this day I consider this dead language to be sacred and mystical!

Shortly thereafter I started carpooling with an older student who was an accomplished state champion hurdler. He convinced me that I should go out for track as a far safer alternative to contact sports. So began endless afternoons perpetually running around the inside of a local armory like a hamster in a wheel. Here I was able to apply my most refined combat skill, honed by innumerable encounters with the angry and frustrated thugs churned in my failing factory town tenement house neighborhood… running!

At first there were no awards, no victories. But there was no stopping either. The training itself was enjoyable. Who cared if the coach didn’t even know my name? “And you too…” was the usual communication. A particular event was neither requested nor specified. After winter passed we started to circle the local tree lined common rather than the barren wooden indoor floors. This was sheer delight. The taunts of “want a cigarette” and “hey you dropped your torch back there” were enjoyed for their humor and left behind in the dust. That summer I took to the roads and the long empty straight stretches between the railroad tracks.

The training was called LSD… Long Slow Distance. Nothing was known about the “runner’s high”… it was only experienced. The peace experienced by the mantra of my foot steps was a salvation.

The next Autumn was my first experience with cross country track. All of the pleasure I had experienced to date paled in comparison to this experience. The races and training here was always through forests, grasslands, beaches and the open fairways of golf courses. This was ecstasy. It was my short term ticket to sanity and my eventual fare to college in the form of a scholarship and grant. The constant training prior to the transmutation of my adolescent physique ripened into more than adequate ability.

College training is a mixed blessing. I was rooming on a floor of all jocks and their bias seemed to be more towards partying than studying. Part of my scholarship was academic so I had a grade point average to maintain. In addition the coach acted as if he owned you and winning was the only acceptable outcome. What formerly had been a deliverance was now a sentence to a gulag. The coach came to the dining hall to edit what you ate and spot checked your room to insure you were in bed by 11PM. The amount of studying required didn’t matter to him so the solution to this quandary was a small fortune spent on book lights and batteries.

Summer vacation brought road racing, which became an acceptable substitution for the fun formerly experienced in cross country running. It also was the entry into a world inhabited by older men who were maintaining their prowess well into maturity. “Life Sport” was the concept. It was a beautiful thing. It showed me that if you temper your training with wisdom and balance then it never really has to end.

After college I got married and began my professional career. Cross training became a more prominent part of my exercise routine by adding handball, racquetball, weight training, and bicycle racing for biathlons. Around this time the Japanese were becoming a dominant force on the marathon circuit. There were articles published about their training techniques, which included a vegetarian diet and following a ‘dojo’ model of exercising. This caused me to investigate further and activated a dormant interest in martial arts that had been planted in a garden composted by bullies.

Returning to graduate school for a degree in psychology simultaneously opened my mind to the possibilities of body-mind integration. I noticed a distinct difference in my consciousness and stress level depending on the type of workout completed. If I ran of rode my bike for a long distance I returned both physically and psychologically refreshed. If the exercise was competitive, by playing racquetball for instance, I was physically refreshed but not so much psychologically rejuvenated.

Reading “Yoga and Western Psychology” by Geraldine Coster sent me in search of a Hatha Yoga teacher. This was the mid 70’s and yoga was not as easily found as it is now. Ashrams were where teachers were located. This environment also allowed me to explore Raja, Kundalini and Bhakti Yogas. The huge breakthroughs here were the understanding and practice of meditation in a variety of forms as well as the discovery of the “relaxation response”. There was also the unexpected awareness of a tightness intensely wired into my muscles and tendons by more than 15 years of training absent of stretching… a condition which has enormously improved but one from which I have never fully recovered. After more than a year in this environment the “group think” encountered was still unsettling so my journey was resumed.

The bibliography was expanded to include “Zen and the Art of Archery” by Eugene Herrigel and “Zen Buddhism and Psychoanalysis” by Eric Fromm and D. T. Suzuki.

These concepts started my quest for a zen archery teacher. Such instructors are hard to find in their home culture so were unattainable in the farmland of rural America. Archery ranges were everywhere though. There was also the stroke of good fortune of a prominent zen master located within an hour and half commute. These pieces were cobbled together with a 6 foot light pull western target bow and aluminum arrows. Between weekend retreats and steady target practice (there were even indoor ranges to survive the harsh winters) another delicacy was tasted.

But my appetite was whetted. My previous training regime was becoming insufficient and the meditation practice was an adjunct and somewhat separate. Something that combined the two into a more active practice was desired.

There was a brief stint with full contact karate. Having had a stern coach in college I was not seeking a ‘rite of passage’. A militaristic attitude seemingly for its own sake was not a welcome ingredient. It was also hard to incorporate bloody noses, headaches, aching necks and bruises into the concept of health. But predominantly it was the awareness from my academic studies in psychology (most notably in hypnosis and neuro-linguistic programming) that there was a potential risk of increasing the possibility of physical conflict occurring in my life.

At this time an article appeared in an early edition of the Whole Earth Catalogue on Aikido, a modern Japanese Martial Art. And there was a dojo about an hour away! I saw it and loved it. Its philosophy was consistent with my goals and studies to date. I began intermittent training but attendance was haphazard. Registering in late fall the harsh winter soon descended with the typical white out storms with heavy drifting snows. Commuting in such conditions, alone in farm country is more than difficult; it can be both foolish and dangerous.

The true commitment began about six months later in 1977. After graduating from university I moved to a suburb of a large metropolis. Here was a dojo of an uchi deshi of the founder of the art. My earnest training began and has continued without a break. It has encompassed more than a few dan gradings as well as world wide travel to international dojo both as a student as well as a teacher.

It has included training visits to Japan at world headquarters and a temple school.

This also resulted in the meeting of a kyudo teacher to fulfill a dream that began over twenty years prior. There has been the gift of a deep relationship with a Budo master whose action and teaching has influenced my entire life. The lessons included a template for dying with grace and dignity.

In addition to Kyudo there has also been the inclusion of training in Judo, Kendo, Kashima Shin Ryu, Tai Chi, Qi Kung, the prior Yoga experience and ongoing Zen practice. There has also been steady participation at prominent western universities in the areas of behavioral medicine and body-mind integration as well as western psychological clinical practice.

Almost 45 years have passed since a schoolboy discovered the re-creation of physical culture. Those courses lead to dojo where wide open spaces were exchanged for clear mat space and the expansion of consciousness. Exercise has evolved into a way of being that trains body, mind, and spirit. And the journey continues…

For truly… it is better to travel than arrive.

NO ESCAPE

2006-10-21T02:25:00.000+09:00

With luck, if you are open to life and sincerely train in Budo you might never look at anything the same. You could develop new eyes... the ones the Japanese call "shiseikan". This is translated, particularly in the zen and samurai context, as "the eyes of life and death".

Two of the characters (shisei) can mean 'attitude' when they are translated as 'force' and 'shape' indicating that attitude is the result of forces that shape our lives. Interestingly characters that have the same phonetic sound have different meanings. It can also mean 'posture' and 'tattoo'. So it would seem that to have the eyes of life and death would be to understand the forces that shape our lives, that have indelibly marked us and this can be seen in how we carry ourselves or alternately that we must have the backbone, the posture to face them.

In order to follow the way of the warrior an eminent Japanese sensei says that one must always have the attitude of "No escape". There is an Bronze age Irish fort (Dun Aonghasa) on Inish More (the largest of the Aran Islands) where the back edge is a huge sheer drop into the rocky sea below. Most visitors crawl on their belly to peer over the edge. In this way they are laying flat and hugging the earth so they won't lose their balance from looking. It is still a frightening vision. From here a warrior would have "no escape"... from here s/he would fight like in no other place.

The same exceptional sensei asks, “Why are you here exactly?” When he asks this question to first time students many respond with reasons for learning and training with him. His response is, “NO… why are you here?” He means on the planet in this life… it is an existential question. “If you haven’t answered this question, then in the moment of life and death you will hesitate… and this hesitation will cause you to lose.”

So… why are you here exactly? You must answer this if you are going to be a warrior. From a zen perspective you can "not know" and that’s OK… it is just that you must be fully at one with it and “only don’t know”… no need to apologize… but you will still be fully present... a force to be reckoned with.

Zen principles indicate that to conquer fear one must lose a sense of self, attachment or desire. What one continually fears is loss. This yearning is the power you give as a weapon to be used against you. One can be crushed by this longing.

But such is human nature. And this lesson will be repeated until learned. In this regard you must also remember another samurai saying... "nana korobi ya oki" or "fall seven times – get up eight!"

ACTIVE ~ INTERACTIVE

2006-10-18T02:24:00.000+09:00

In the spirit of the Tenth Zen Oxherding Picture this website hopes to enter the world with helping hands.

Please post your comments and share this page with friends.

If you know of others who might be interested then please e-mail them and provide them with the site address by cutting and pasting it into the body of the e-mail.

http://www.budoblues.blogspot.com

Or you can forward their e-mail address to BUDO BLUES by clicking the E-MAIL YONJUHACHI RONIN link in the sidebar. The BUDO BLUES site link will then be e-mailed back to them.

THE FORGE

2006-10-17T05:43:00.000+09:00

As ideas migrate they change as they stay the same. This seems to happen in much the same way that people pass on genetic characteristics. If one tribe with black hair intermarries with another tribe that has blonde hair then occasionally a recessive gene expresses itself and an atypical physical attribute expresses itself… but although this particular child may look different then the others s/he is still a member of the same tribe and the tribe retains its basic culture and identity.

The concept of Budo is the result of a similar process of migration as an idea that starts in India, travels and transmutes through Asia, until it eventually arrives in Japan to be influenced by a Japanese world view.

It seems to have begun when a man (Siddhartha Gautama/Shakyamuni) somewhere in Nepal decided to sit under a tree until he found “an end to suffering” (enlightenment). Legend says that this practice was carried to China by Bodhidharma where it intermingled with Taoism and where sitting is called Ch’an. Tradition stipulates that Bodhidharma sat facing a wall in a cave near a Shaolin Monastery for nine years. Although he was silent he left behind an iron chest with two texts. The first text disappeared but the second text, “The Muscle Change Classic”, became the guarded treasure of the monks who incorporated it into their martial arts practice.

This association of Bodhidharma with the idea that spiritual, intellectual, and physical excellence are an indivisible whole necessary for enlightenment, proved highly attractive to the Samurai class in Japan. As the idea crosses the sea from the continent to the islands Japanese pronunciation transforms “Tao” to “Do” and “Ch’an” to “Zen”.

As a warrior class Samurai were constantly aware of their mortality, a human condition that often leads to questioning the meaning of existence. They were particularly drawn to the Rinzai School of Zen because it was reputed to remove all fear of death via direct experiential transformation of consciousness. For a Samurai, fear of death was naturally a great obstacle, so such Zen practice had practical applications and became the philosophical basis of bushido. Bushido demands the willingness to face death. According to Zen principles, fear can only be truly conquered by eliminating the notion of self.

It is from here that the migrating idea of the Buddha becomes the Japanese concept of Budo.

The sword is known as the "soul of the Samurai", and in Japanese mythology it was one of the three sacred gifts given to the emperor by the Sun Goddess. A Samurai's sword was believed to be imbued with certain spiritual qualities of its owner. The forging of the blade itself was considered a religious ceremony, swathed in ritual, passed down in secret from father to son for generations. The ceremony was consistent, precise, unvaried, and beautiful -- in action, dress, and color. Forging was often done at night and temperatures were set by holding the blade to the color of the morning sun. The exact hue was transmitted from master to apprentice down through centuries.

The sword forging process itself became a metaphor for character development and many of the metallurgical processes parallel the tasks required for shaping the spirit. The concept of “tanren” is central to this theme.

Tanren means to forge in the same way that a sword blade is forged, with hard work, and sweat, and many hours of dedication, folding together the hard and soft elements in the body, mind, and movement just as the sword gains its strength out of hard and soft steel.

This is followed by “Renshu”. Ren means to polish, to perfect by continued practice. It also means to polish the spirit and character through the requirements of detail and interpretation. To demonstrate a compassionate nature that can pass on knowledge without egotistical pride and arrogance.

Miyamoto Musashi, the legendary 16^th century Japanese sword master, states in his “Book of Five Rings” that it takes 1,000 days to forge the spirit and 10,000 to polish it.

So it came to be in more modern times (in Japan this could be seen as starting with the Meiji Reformation) that a primary goal of Budo was to develop character. This to me is the most important point. The physical practice of Budo transcends the notion of sport. It transcends the idea of competition. It views self-defense in a much more sophisticated way.

Because of such a great promise there are high expectations. Wherever there is a great height there is the danger of a great fall. This is as true with abstract ideals as it is with concrete reality. In my experience many talk about the ideals of Budo but few walk the path. These disappointments have occurred intermittently along my journey and when they have been encountered there has always been a fall that is accompanied by sadness and doubt.

These and other challenges to training (including physical ones as well) and living are the heat and the hammering that represents the forging of character.

But part of the training in Budo is to learn how to fall and arise from the throw ready to continue. Consequently I remind myself that there is “no escape” and I brush myself off and return to “fight the good fight”. This doesn’t mean that the experience hasn’t left me feeling a bit discouraged and feeling “the blues”.

This is the state of “Budo Blues”… the difficulty of living with integrity in the “real world” and the hardships experienced along the way. These and other related topics will be the thoughts and feelings offered in Budo Blues. It explores the forging of a blade that “never bends, never breaks, cuts clean”.

BUDO & BLUES

2006-10-14T03:57:00.000+09:00

BUDO

“Human beings are not like lions and tigers, so the way of Budo must not be like them either. The tiger and lion are strong, and their instinct and desire make them want to win. It never occurs to them to abandon their ego. But human beings can go beyond the ego and death. In Budo, they must become even stronger than the lion or the tiger, and discard the animal instinct that clings to the human spirit.”

Taisen Deshimaru

“Budo is the way of the warrior... It explores through direct experience and in depth the relationship between ethics, religion, and philosophy… Its ancient writings are essentially concerned with a particular form of cultivation of the mind and a reflection upon the nature of the self: who am I? what is I?

In Japanese, Do means the way. How do you walk on this way? How can you find it? It is not just learning a technique, still less is it a sporting match… the ideogram Bu also means to cease the struggle. In Budo the point is not to compete, but to find peace and mastery of the self.

Do (Tao in Chinese), the way, is the method, the teaching that enables you to understand perfectly the nature of your own mind and self. It is the way… that leads you to discover your own original nature, to awaken from the numbness of the sleeping ego (the little self, the limited "me") and accede to higher, fuller personhood.”

Taisen Deshimaru
Zen in the Martial Arts

“The object of budo is to cultivate character, enrich the ability to make value judgments, and foster a well disciplined and capable individual through participation in physical and mental training utilizing martial techniques.

When practicing daily, one must constantly follow decorum, adhere to the fundamentals, and resist the temptation to pursue mere technical skill rather than the unity of mind and technique.”

THE BUDO CHARTER
Japanese Budo Association

“A pure budo comes with the unification of technique, body and heart. The budo, which will manifest itself, does not depend upon the technique, but rather upon the heart of the practitioner.

Budo is the path of the warrior. Combined with the spirit of heaven and earth in your heart, you can fulfill your life's destiny with unconditional love for everything.

Aiki seeks to skillfully strike down the ego and inherent insincerity in battling an enemy. Aiki is the path of forgiveness and enlightenment.

The goal… is not perfection of a step or skill, but rather improving one's character according to the rules of nature.”

Aikikai Foundation

BLUES

“Blues is about tradition and personal expression. At its core, the blues has remained the same since its inception.

Ever since the blues first developed from African-American field hollers, feeling has been the most essential ingredient. The blues is as honest a musical form as it is uplifting. The blues is life-with all its ups and downs intact.”

The Blues Foundation

“The music of blacks during slavery integrated their African heritage and the Judeo-Christian ethic… with the development of the sacred form of music known as the spiritual. Spirituals were sung in both religious and non-sacred settings. The use of the spiritual reflects the African ideal that while sacred song allows one to communicate with the other world, it may also address matters of the present world.”

Hawkeye Herman
The Blues Foundation

“The blues is a musical style created in response to the hardships endured by generations of African American people. Melody is strongly influenced by ‘blues notes’ that sound like ‘bent’ or flattened third, fifth, and seventh notes of the major scale. Blues notes have a bittersweet emotional impact.

Hawkeye Herman
The Blues Foundation

“Early blues frequently took the form of a loose narrative, often with the singer voicing his or her personal woes in a world of harsh reality…"

David Ewen
Panorama of American Popular Music (1957)

“An early form of blues-like music was a call-and-response shouts, which were a functional expression... A form of this pre-blues was heard in slave field shouts and hollers, expanded into simple solo songs laden with emotional content.”

Jean Ferris

America

's Musical Landscape (1993)