We only miss things when they are gone.

"Health is the greatest gift, contentment is the greatest wealth, a trusted friend is the best relative, a liberated mind is the greatest bliss." Recently being sick, I stumbled upon this quote by the Buddha and it really resonated with me.  Sitting at home alone suffering through yet another illness brought home by my kids makes me wonder what would my life be like if this pain was an everyday thing?

We tend to treat our health and our bodies like we do a tube of toothpaste.  When its full we use it carelessly, but when it is almost out we become more cognizant and use it sparingly.  Only when we are at the risk of losing something do we try to conserve it.  Our health is truly our greatest gift.  It is part of our training to stay in shape, eat well and take care of our bodies.

Do martial artists ever become "over the hill?"

Youth is coveted in today's world of sports and athletics where speed and strength are king.  The modern athlete stereotype is a young 20-25 year old male who is six feet tall and has six-pack abs.  This it seems is the quintessential athlete.  Once any person gets to be 30 years old or older, they are considered "over the hill" and they are no longer competitive.  A commonly heard phrase when talking about an aged athlete is that, "The game has passed them by."  In the the martial arts, nothing could be farther from the truth.Modern athletics covets speed and strength whereas in the martial arts, we covet technique and experience.  In theory, our techniques evolve as our understanding of the techniques evolve.  The art doesn't "leave us behind" as martial artists because we are constantly refining ourselves.  With this refinement we take into consideration our age and physicality.  We understand that we "can't do it like we are young anymore" and thus strive to evolve with life's changes.

I once heard that a true martial artist doesn't begin to peak until they are in their sixties.  This might seem crazy since modern athletes talk about peaking in ability at around 25 years old.  This is true when we think about speed and strength and where we see them begin to decline in one's thirties.   However, speed and strength are but a small aspect of the art.  Besides speed and strength, there is timing, spacing and any number of technical aspects of the art not to mention strategy, tactics and the mental aspect of the art.

To be fast and strong is necessary in order to develop a base of skill, but the skill isn't static and many layers.  The gift comes as we see our strength and speed decline and that causes us to look deeper into our art. This is where we start to hear people say that what they do, whether it is Aikido or basketball, is a way of life.

Aikido like all martial arts is a do (道) or a way of life.  To think that one can only be successful when they are young is to negate life as a journey.

Below I have posted a couple of video from Baki the Grappler, a popular Japanese manga turned anime.  In these videos, master Shibukawa Goki shows that strength and speed pale in comparison to technique and experience.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9JJ3VkWaS-I

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0NRq8exdzsw

It Will Pass: A Zen story A student went to his meditation teacher and said, “My meditation is horrible! I feel so distracted, or my legs ache, or I’m constantly falling asleep. It’s just horrible!” “It will pass,” the teacher said matter-of-factly.  A week later, the student came back to his teacher.“ My meditation is wonderful! I feel so aware, so peaceful, so alive! It’s just wonderful!’ “It will pass,” the teacher replied matter-of-factly.

"Nothing is either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."  - William Shakespeare, Hamlet.

The path of Aikido has no destination - the training itself is a journey.  Along this journey, there are ups and there are downs, but what the training is teaching us to do is how to take the ukemi of life.  We get thrown down, we get back up.  We throw others down, they get back up.  It is not possible for us to be only the uke or only the nage.  The cycle continuously repeats, but as martial artists meet each encounter with equanimity.

If we do good, we accept it.  If we do poorly, we accept it.  It is all par for the course in that we are learning how to meet the turbulence of life with a sense of calmness and poise not being pulled this way or that way.

With this, we can see how training affects life.  Training is training and whatever the outcome it too will pass.  We will never get any where on the the journey of life if we get too pumped by the highs or get too bogged down with the lows.  Life is too short.

Life in a sumo stable

Fewer and fewer people today are participating in sumo.  So much so that none of the Yokozuna or Grand Champions today are from Japan.  This trend is becoming so worrisome that the Japanese have even come up with an expression for it.  It's called the "3k."  The 3ks are kitanai kiken and kitsui  or dirty, dangerous and demanding.  I think this goes not only for Japan but also for any "developed" nation in these modern technologically advanced times.  Today, everything is so instant that people have become adverse to things that make them uncomfortable and thus things supremely traditional like sumo begin to suffer. As a martial artist, we don't have the luxury to forego the 3ks.  Training is supposed to be a bit dirty (we are all sweaty), a bit dangerous (it is a martial art) and quite demanding (how else are we going to get good?).  Being uncomfortable just means that we are growing and being exposed to things that we are not accustomed to.

I have posted a video that follows the life of an apprentice sumo wrestler so that we can see what it is like to train in one of the most demanding traditional Japanese arts.  As always, sometimes we need to peek into another person's life to gain perspective on our own.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kvZtImaL-1M

Let it go...

Do you want to get good at Aikido?  This infographic on happiness succinctly demonstrates that giving up certain thought patterns can lead to a path of happiness.  Just replace the word "happy" with "Aikido" and the road map to success appears.  Sensei often talked about how "letting go" instead of "acquiring" was the true path to enlightenment.  We often think that acquiring and succeeding are one in the same, but nothing could be farther from the truth.  The true victory is in letting go of limiting thoughts and beliefs that cause us to suffer.  Happiness like Aikido is not a destination but rather a path of life and this path is paved with letting go of the thoughts and beliefs that limits us.

Do you FOCUS?

Soldiers out in the field are under a constant of barrage stress.  In order to complete the task at hand the military teaches them to "compartmentalize" problems into tasks in order gain success.  By compartmentalizing, big things are made smaller by chunking them down into palatable bite size pieces. Some characterize this compartmentalization as F.O.C.U.S.  Follow one course until success then one moves on to the next task.

In Aikido, the techniques have a lot of moving parts and it is easy to become overwhelmed.  Each technique is broken down in to steps and each technique, no matter the teacher, has the same hallmark steps - ikkyo is ikkyo but just has some different nuances.  In order to make the techniques "work" students should do every step and give each step the necessary focus.

How much emphasis and time is required of each step changes as a result of one becoming more experienced and/or skillful.  It may appear that an expert skips steps, but noting could be farther from the truth.  An expert still gives each step its due, but sometimes just more quickly.

An often miss quoted Benjamin Franklin quote is, " Take care of the pennies and the dollars will take care of themselves" is apropos to getting good at Aikido. To get good at Aikido, or anything else for that matter, one just needs to F.O.C.U.S on each step.

 

Should training be hard?  Yes, but...

The word hard is defined as something, "solid, firm, and resistant to pressure; not easily broken, bent, or pierced" which implies that whatever it is is seemingly insurmountable.  The word "hard" then brings with it a connotation that something is impossible or at least highly improbable.   Aikido training teaches us that, although something is difficult, nothing is impossible.  After a shift in one's perspective, training can move from being hard to being "challenging."

The word challenging is defined as, "testing one's abilities; demanding" and brings with it a sense that the situation is daring us to show our best selves.  The training can then be a proving ground where we learn perseverance, determination, courage or any other seemingly hidden positive trait.

Both the words hard and challenging are adjectives and by definition adjectives modify or describe nouns or pronouns in order to qualify them.  Therefore, they merely exist to bring about perspective to something.

Henry Ford said, "Whether you think you can, or you think you can't - you're right."  If we perceive something as being hard and insurmountable then it will be hard and we won't overcome it.  If we see something as a challenge to inspire our best, it will bring forth our greatness regardless of the outcome.

When I was a student, many of us would arrive well before class started to get in some extra practice and prepare ourselves for class.  Sometimes we did this to tire ourselves out and make the class more challenging in order to as Ken Furuya Sensei would say, "to get the experience of what it would be like to do Aikido completely exhausted."

We made the training "harder" in order to challenge ourselves.  We create the conditions for our own experiences and thus training is only as hard as a function of how we approach it.  Don't get me wrong, Aikido training isn't easy per se, but it is only as hard as we make it.  So yes, Aikido training is hard, but that depends entirely on us and how we approach our training.  Sensei used to say, "Cry in the dojo, laugh on the battlefield."  We can only do that if we challenge ourselves to be the best by training hard when we are in the dojo.

Japanese swordsman cuts 100mph fastball in half

Japanese Iaido teacher Isao Machii is one of the most well known Iaido teachers in the world.  He holds numerous cutting records and is even in the Guinness Book of World Records.  His cutting precision and timing is most likely at the top of the spectrum.  In this video he cuts a 100mph fastball in half while standing 30 feet away.  Incredible!  One of his greatest feats was cutting a BB in half as it was shot directly at him.  Isao Machii is famous and many of his feats can be witnessed on Youtube. Isao Machii's feats with a sword are incredible, but are they unattainable?  The only difference between Isao Machii and anyone else is that he started something and kept going.  I wish I could say for sure that he was gifted with incredible timing, eye sight or something else, but I don't know any of that for sure.  What I do know is that he has perfected a skill to the highest level and to do that one needs to put the work in.  There is no such thing as a phenom.

It doesn't matter if we want to be a mechanic, a lawyer, Aikidoist or a swordsman, it first requires that we start and then it requires that we keep going.  Isao Machii seems to stand alone and in a certain sense he does because all others have either never started or have long since quit.  Cutting 100mph fastballs is at the juncture where determination meets perseverance.

https://youtu.be/XSvrIZKI8mk

Find balance

“Sadness gives depth. Happiness gives height. Sadness gives roots. Happiness gives branches. Happiness is like a tree going into the sky, and sadness is like the roots going down into the womb of the earth. Both are needed, and the higher a tree goes, the deeper it goes, simultaneously. The bigger the tree, the bigger will be its roots. In fact, it is always in proportion. That’s its balance.” - Osho The "thing" that we are striving most to obtain by training is balance.  This balance not only physically, but mentally and emotionally too.  We strive to bring balance to every part of our lives, inner and outer.  In order to find balance, we sometimes must know the depths of things, but it takes courage to face some things in their depth regardless if they are good or bad.

On the mat, we are confronted physically but there is a huge mental/emotional component as well.  The more one trains, the more comfortable they get with themselves and it is with this repetitiveness that we gain an understanding of ourselves.  The entirety of the technique then becomes a metaphor for how to deal with life.  We are confronted, we maintain balance, and we address the situation appropriately.  It then does not matter if they situation is physical, mental or emotional; it all gets addressed the same - with balance.

Interesting documentary abut Andre Nocquet Sensei

I found an interesting video about Aikido Sensei Andre Nocquet (1914-1999).  Andre Nocquet was a famous post-war Aikido student who was a direct student of O Sensei's.  He is credited with bringing Aikido to France.  This video is very interesting in that there is a lot of candid footage of O Sensei not only doing Aikido but also discussing it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSRdNWGGqXA

Be aware

In the dojo, one of the things we stress is that the students be aware of themselves at all times.  This awareness creates a sense of responsibility.  When we see a piece of paper on the ground, "we have to" pick it up.  The meaning behind "we have to" is the responsibility that is born out of awareness.  Since we see something, we must act on it.  There is a Japanese proverb that goes, "zen wa isoge" or that good deeds should be done quickly without hesitation. 

A good student is one who has balance, both physically and mentally.  Aikido is a martial art and thus because its techniques can be lethal, it requires a certain amount of personal responsibility.  In order to be responsible, one must be aware first.  As the old saying goes, "One has to know there is a problem before they can act on it."

If one is taught to be self-aware and notice things and be responsible for them in the dojo then they might be able to carry that over into their daily lives.  If they can see it, then they can act on it and, hopefully when they do, it will be a natural act that is done quickly at the exact right moment and done with good character.  To be unaware of oneself is to act without character and to be irresponsible.  All martial arts teach responsibility because responsibility is the virtue that ensures that when we do act that we will act accordingly.

Seize the moment

Decisiveness is one of the key factors to success in not only battle, but in life as well.  Being decisive means being able to take control of opportunities when they present themselves.  In Japanese this idea of seizing the initiative is called sen (先).  Timing is super important in being able to seize the advantage and therefore there are many different types of sen. Go no sen or ato no sen (後の先) means to take initiative after the opponent has attacked.  It can be thought of as a counter attack.  Senken or sometimes called senken no mei (先見の明) means to take initiative in anticipation of the partner's attack.  Ken no sen means that during the onset of the bout one seizes the initiative first by setting up the opponent.  Tai no sen is to wait until the moment of the attack to seize the initiative as the opponent opens themselves up to attack or some use this to mean to feign before the attack.  Sen no sen means to seize the initiative before they seize the initiative.  Sensei described sen no sen as, "move before they move."  Sen sen no sen in Sensei's terms then means to move before they move to move where the initiative to move comes from an almost sixth sense.  One would move before they even knew they were going to move.

Generally a beginner can only employ go no sen where they are waiting to be attacked because they cannot "read" their opponents movement.  The more seasoned or intermediate practitioner is better at reading their opponents movements and thus can start to use ken no sen and move first.  The expert can read their opponents movement but they also can start to "sense" their opponents intention and can then make use of sen no sen.  Only someone with countless hours on the mat and master's level of ability can fluidly use their sixth sense and pull off sen sen no sen.

The "Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity" quote attributed to Seneca is apropos to sen.  Training requires that students and teachers alike be determined and diligent in their efforts.   In order to be successful, one must put in the time so that they can be ready when the time comes and thus seize the day.

My favorite action movie stars are usually ones that are martial artists, but I am amazed by how some actors work so hard to transform themselves into martial artists for their roles.  I like to watch the "making of" section of action movie DVDs to see how the actors trained to portray martial artists in movies.  One of my favorite behind the scenes was for the movie Ninja Assassin, which was a mediocre movie, but the training and transformation that the pop star Rain underwent was amazing.  I find it amazing when an actor with no formalized training trains so hard that they look as if they are trained.  For instance, did you know that the actors in the movie the Karate Kid only trained for three months?  Quite impressive.  One of my favorite action stars is Toshiro Mifune.  Mifune had no formalized sword training, but worked assiduously with the fight choreographer Yoshio Sugino, who was a student of O Sensei's, to make himself look as if he was formally trained in the sword.  Many don't know that Mifune was an expert in Yabusame or horseback archery as well.  One of my favorite scenes throughout all his movies comes from the movie Hidden Fortress directed by Akira Kurosawa.  In the scene (below) he fights with a yari or spear with a rival leader.  Sensei once told us that the spear duel in this scene was part of an old spear kata and it has something like 108 movements.  Watching Mifune wield the yari one can see that he must have put in countless hours to make his technique appear at an experts level.  They have to have.  If you watch their footwork closely, it is balanced and they don't wield the yari with their upper bodies which both are indicative of being "trained."  That is why this scene is one of my favorites. How did these actors become experts?  What was the punchline to the old Carnegie Hall joke, "practice"?  To become an expert at anything, one needs to practice.

https://vimeo.com/7051676

"Life is what you make of it."

The things kids pick up naturally is kind of funny.  Lately, my son who is almost three years old has been saying, "Life is what you make of it."  Where did he get that?  Was it the Disney channel or from something I said?  Who knows.  But, the point remains that "Life is what we make of it."  Nothing more and nothing less.  We choose our life.  I stumbled upon a quote from Uchiyama Kosho's book titled, The Dharma of Homeless Kodo which is a series of Dharma talks by Sawaki Kodo that struck me and I hope it speaks to you too.  Enjoy! To you who have just begun brooding over life

What a shame to have been born a human being and to spend your whole life worrying. You should reach the point where you can be happy to have been born a human.

Birth, old age, sickness and death – we can't fool around with these ultimate facts.

Reality: getting a handle on this must be our goal. Don't get stuck in categories.

It's strange that not a single person seriously considers his own life. For ages, we've been carrying around something uncooked. And we comfort ourselves with the fact that it's the same for the others too. That's what I call group stupidity: thinking that we just have to be like the others. Satori means creating your own life. It means waking up from group stupidity.

In a part of Manchuria, the carts are pulled by huge dogs. The driver hangs a piece of meat in front of the dog's nose, and the dog runs like crazy to try to get at it. But of course he can't. He's only thrown his meat after the cart has finally reached its destination. Then in a single gulp, he swallows it down.

It's exactly the same with people and their pay checks. Until the end of the month they run after the salary hanging in front of their noses. Once the salary is paid, they gulp it down, and they're already off: running after the next payday.

Nobody can see further than the end of their nose. Everyone believes that their life somehow has meaning, but they're really no different from swallows: the males gather food, the females sit on the eggs.

Most people aren't following any clear approach to life. They get by with makeshift methods, like rubbing lotion on a cramped shoulder.

The question is: why are you straining your forehead so much?

If you aren't careful, you'll spend your whole life doing nothing besides waiting for your ordinary-person hopes to someday be fulfilled.

Source: http://terebess.hu/english/sawaki-to-you.html

Another great video about Japanese carpentry

This message is a mixture of things that I am interested in and things that I find that I hope can help other people in their journeys.  Some things I post here just serendipitously pop up or someone sends it to me and then I think, "Oh, this would be great for..." and I send it to them or sometimes I post it.  The last two days I stumbled upon these videos about Japanese culture and how it is viewed through the eyes of traditional carpentry.  I firmly believe that learning about other people, other things or other arts can help us gain a better perspective about ourselves.  To see how others live helps us to understand how we live.  Their passions, love and suffering are the same as our passion, love and suffering.  As the Dalai Lama said, "We are all the same."  One of the greatest skills to acquire is the ability to see things from another person's perspective. I usually like to vary my message/posts and not post the same things or too many videos in a row, but I really liked these two videos.  They really inspire me and help me to understand Japanese culture better.  I hope that they inspire you in whatever you do.  Please enjoy and have a wonderful day!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A3at1K-SzCk&feature=youtu.be

The way of carpentry

Our old dojo was built by Sensei with help from a Japanese carpenter.  Not until after the old dojo was demolished was I able to see the true craftsmanship.  They used local woods that some might grade inferior and turned it into a pieces of beauty.  One of the interesting things was that the floors were made with wood one might use on a outside fence, but you would have never known it by looking at it or touching it.  They must have used a Japanese plane to create the finish because in the 17 years I was there I can't recall us ever "re-staining" the floors.  If they would have used sandpaper and stain to create the finish, we would have had to re-do it after a couple of years.  You can see this now as the new floors need to be re-stained. I found this video documentary below.  It is quite interesting even if one isn't interested in carpentry because they discuss the Japanese mindset and philosophy as it pertains to carpentry.  One of the hallmarks of Japanese culture is to live in harmony with nature and you can see it reflected in how these people build things.  Miyamoto Musashi said, "To know one way is to know all ways" and so we can understand our own way as we learn about other ones.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rMtSc2MJLcw

Step by step

The other day before we left the house, my son, who is 2 years old, wouldn't leave until he put away his toys (maybe because his grandma was there).  My mom said, "Oh, he is kichoumen."  Kichoumen (几帳面) means to be meticulous to the point that everything has to be in place. Good martial artists of every tradition are by nature kichoumen.  There is no other way to get good if one doesn't follow the steps.  There is a lot of fervor today of people advocating "formlessness" but that is a bit of nonsense.  By nature, human beings are habitual which means that our lives naturally conform to habituated patterns.  This is something so innate to us that it is almost subconscious.  Think about it, our routes to work or school are almost always the same, we sit in same place and even brush our teeth in the same way.  This adherence to form is our brain's way of reducing its workload.  It is theorized that we have around 50,000 thoughts a day so you could see how fatigued our brain would become if we had to manage each one and create a new pattern of behavior for each task.  In any given situation, we are constantly laying familiar patterns of behavior over similar tasks and tweaking them to produce favorable outcomes.  Therefore, our brains are hardwired for creating patterns.

This is also the rationale for kata practice or practicing preconceived patterns of movement.  Obviously when we are engaged by an opponent it won't be the same as the kata we practiced, but our minds are very good at picking out similarities and laying the familiar pattern of behavior (kata) over the situation.

Thus since our minds are hardwired for patterns, we learn the best in patterns.  Every martial art throughout time teaches its style based on some preconceived pattern of movement.  In Japanese it is called kata.  In order to make the pattern "stick" so we can use it, we must practice them repetitiously to the point of ad nauseam.

One of the main differences between beginners and experts is that the expert meticulously covers each step in the movement while the beginner leaves steps out or skips some altogether.  From an uninformed eye it looks as if the expert skips steps but in reality they just do them quicker while still giving each step its just deserts.

Therefore in order to get good, one just has to be kichoumen and follow each of the steps.

Neko No Myojutsu - The Marvelous Techniques of the Old Cat

The Swordsman and the CatWritten by Issai Chozan (1659-1741)

There was once a swordsman called Shoken, who was very much annoyed by a furious rat in his house. The rat was bold enough to come out of its hiding place even in the daytime, doing all kinds of mischief. Shoken made his pet cat go after it, but she was not its equal, and being bitten by it, she ran away screaming. The swordsman now hired some of the neighboring cats noted for their skill and courage in catching rats. They were let loose against the rat. Crouching in a corner, it watched the cats approach it and furiously attacked them one after another. The cats were terrified and all beat a retreat.

The master became desperate and tried to kill the rat himself. Taking up his wooden sword he approached it, but every effort of the experienced swordsman proved ineffectual, for the rat dodged his sword so skillfully that it seemed as to be flying through the air like a bird or even lightning. Before Shoken could follow its movement, it had already made a successful leap at his head. He was perspiring heavily and finally decided to give up the chase. As a last resort, he sent for the neighboring Cat widely known for her mysterious virtue as the most able rat-catcher. The Cat did not look in any way especially different from other cats that had been invited to fight the rat. The swordsman did not think very much of her, but let her go into the room where the rat was located. The Cat went in quietly and slowly as if she were not cognizant of any unusual scene in the room. The rat, however, was extremely terrified at the sight of the approaching object and stayed motionless, almost stupefied, in the corner. The Cat almost nonchalantly went for the rat and came out carrying it by the neck.

In the evening, all the cats who had participated in the rat-catching had a grand session at Shoken's house, and respectfully asked the great Cat to take the seat of honor. They made profound bows before her and said: “We are all noted for valor and cunning, but never realized that there was such an extraordinary rat in the world. None of us was able to do anything with it until you came; and how easily you carried the day! We all wish you to divulge your secrets for our benefit, but before that let us see how much we all know about the art of fighting rats.”

The black cat came forward and said: “I was born in a family reputed for its skill in the art. Since my kitten days I have trained myself with a view to becoming a great rat-catcher. I am able to leap over a screen as high as seven feet; I know how to squeeze myself through a tiny hole which allows a rat only. I am proficient in performing all kinds of acrobatics. I am also clever at making the rats think that I am sound asleep, but I know how to strike them as soon as they come within my reach. Even those running over the beam cannot escape me. It is really a shame that I had to retreat before that old rat today.”

The old veteran Cat said: “What you have learned is the technique of the art. Your mind is ever conscious of planning how to combat the opponent. The reason why the ancient masters devised the techniques is to acquaint us with the proper method of accomplishing the work, and the method is naturally simple and effective, implying all the essential points of the art. Those who follow the master fail to grasp his principle and are to busily occupied with improving their technical cleverness and manipulatory skill. The end is achieved, and cleverness attains its highest efficiency , but what does it all amount to? Cleverness is an activity of the mind, no doubt, but it must be in accordance with the Way. When the latter is neglected and mere cleverness is aimed at, it diverges and is apt to be abused. This is to be remembered well in the art of fighting.”

The tiger cat now stepped forward and expressed his view thus: “To my mind, what is important in the art of fighting is the spirit (ki; ch'i in Chinese); I have long trained myself in its cultivation and development. I am now in possession of the strongest spirit, which fills up heaven and earth. When I face an opponent, my overawing spirit is already on him, and victory is on my side even prior to actual combat. I have no conscious scheme as to the use of technical skill, but it comes out spontaneously according to change of situation. If the rat should be running over a beam, I would just gaze at him intensely with all my spiritual strength, and he is sure to fall by himself from the height and be my prisoner. But that old mysterious rat moved along without leaving any shadow. The reason is beyond me.”

The grand old Cat's reply was this: “You know how to make the most of your psychic powers, but the very fact of your being conscious of it works against you; your strong psyche stands opposed to the opponent's, and you can never be sure of yours being stronger than his, for there is always a possibility of its being surpassed. You may feel as if your active vigorous psyche were filling the universe, but it is not the spirit itself, it is no more than its shadowy image. It may resemble Mencius' Kozen no ki (hao-jan chi ch'i), but in reality it is not. Mencius' ch'i (“spirit”), as we know, is bright and illuminating, and for this reason full of vigor, whereas yours gains vigor owing to conditions. Because of this difference in origin, there is difference in its operation. The one is a great river incessantly flowing, and the other is a temporary flood after a heavy rainfall, soon exhausted when it encounters a mightier onrush. A desperate rat often proves stronger than an attacking cat. It has been cornered, the fight is for life and death, and the desperate victim harbors no desire to escape unhurt. Its mental attitude defies every possible danger which may come upon it. Its whole being incarnates the fighting ch'i (“spirit” or “psyche”), and no cats can withstand its steel-like resistance.”

The gray cat now advanced quietly and said: “as you tell us, a psyche however strong is always accompanied by its shadow, and the enemy is sure to take advantage of this shadow, though it may be the faintest one. I have for a long time disciplined myself in this way: not to overawe the enemy, not to force a fight, but to assume a yielding and conciliatory attitude. When the enemy proves strong, I just look yielding and simply follow up his movements. I act like a curtain surrendering itself to the pressure of a stone thrown at it. Even a strong rat finds no means to fight me. But the one we had to deal with today has no parallel, it refused to submit to my psychical overpowering, and was not tempted by my manifestation of a yielding psyche. It was a most mysterious creature – the like of which I have never seen in my life.”

The grand old Cat answered: “What you call a yielding psyche is not in harmony with Nature; it is man-made, it is contrivance word out in your conscious mind. When you try by means of this to crush the opponent's positive impassioned attaching psyche, he is quick enough to detect any sign of psychic wavering which may go on in your mind. The yielding psyche thus artificially evoked produces a certain degree of muddiness and obstruction in your mind, which is sure to interfere with acuteness of perceptions and agility of action, for then Nature feels impeded in pursuing its original and spontaneous course of movement. To make Nature display its mysterious way of achieving things is to do away with all your own thinking, contriving, and acting; let Nature have her own way, let her act as it fees in you, and there will be no shadows, no signs, no traces whereby you can be caught; you have then no foes who can successfully resist you.

“I am not, however, going to say that all the discipline you have each so far gone through has been to no purpose. After all, the Way expresses itself through its vessels. Technical contrivances hold the Reason (ri, li) in them, the spiritual power is operative in the body, and when it is harmony with Nature, it acts in perfect accord with environmental changes. When the yielding psyche is thus upheld, it gives a stop to fighting on the physical plane of force and is able to stand even against rocks. But there is one most essential consideration which when neglected is sure to upset everything. This is: not to cherish even a speck of self-conscious thought. When this is present in your mind, all your acts become self-willed, human-designed tricks, and are not in conformity with the Way. It is then that people refuse to yield to your approach and come to set up a psyche of antagonism on their part. When you are in the state of mind known as “mindlessness' (mushin), you act in unison with Nature without resorting at all to artificial contrivances. The Way, however, is above all limitations, and all this talk of mine is far from being exhaustive as far as the Way is concerned.

“Some time ago there was in my neighborhood a cat who passed all her time in sleeping, showing no sign of spiritual-animal power, and looking like a wooden image. People never saw her catch a single rat, but wherever she roamed about no rats ever dared to appear in her presence. I once visited her and asked for the reason. She gave no answer. I repeated my query four times, but she remained silent. It was not that she was unwilling to answer, but in truth she did not know how to answer. So we note that one who knows speaks not a word, while one who speaks knows not. That old cat was forgetful not only of herself but all things about her, she was the one who realized divine warriorship and killed not. I am not to be compared to her.”

Continued the Cat: “Well, I am a mere cat; rats are my food, and how can I know about human affairs? But if you permit me to say something further, you must remember that swordsmanship is an art of realizing at a critical moment the Reason of life and death, it is not meant just to defeat your opponent. A samurai ought to be always mindful of this fact and discipline himself in a spiritual culture as well as in the technique of swordsmanship. First of all, therefore, he is to have an insight into the Reason of life and death, when his mind is free from thoughts of selfishness. This being attained, he cherishes no doubts, no distracting thoughts; he is not calculating, nor does he deliberate; his Spirit is even and yielding and at peace with the surroundings; he is serene and empty-minded; and thus he is able to respond freely to changes taking place from moment to moment in his environment. On the other hand, when a thought or desire is stirred in his mind, it calls up a world of form; there is 'I,' there is 'not-I,' and contradictions ensue. As long as this opposition continues, the Way finds itself restricted and blocked; its free activities become impossible. Your Spirit is already pushed into the darkness of death, altogether losing its mysterious native brightness. How can you expect in this state of mind to rise and wager your fate against the opponent? Even when you come out victorious, it is no more than accidental, and decidedly against the spirit of swordsmanship.

“By 'purposelessness' is not meant mere absence of things where vacant nothingness prevails. The Spirit is by nature formless, and no 'objects' are to be harbored in it. When anything is harbored there, your psychic energy is drawn toward it; and when your psychic energy loses its balance, its native activity becomes cramped and no more flows with the stream.

Where the energy is tipped, there is too much of it in one direction, while in another there is a shortage. Where it is too much, it overflows and cannot be controlled; where there is a shortage, it is not sufficiently nourished and shrivels up. In both cases, it is unable to cope with ever-changing situations. But when there prevails a state of 'purposelessness' [which is also a state of 'mindlessness'] the Spirit harbors nothing in it, nor is it tipped in any one direction; it transcends both subject and object; it responds empty-mindedly to environmental vicissitudes and leaves no tracks. We have in the Book of Changes (I Ching): 'There is in it no thinking, no doing [ or no willing], absolute quietness, and no motion; but it feels, and when it acts, it flows through any objects and events of the world.' When this is understood in connection with the art of swordsmanship, one is nearer to the Way.”

After listening intently to the wisdom of the Cat, Shoken proposed this question: “What is meant by 'There is neither the subject nor the object'?”

Replied the Cat: “Because of the self there is the foe; when there is no self there is no foe. The foe means an opposition as the male is opposed to the female and fire to water. Whatever things have form exist necessarily in opposition. When there are no signs [of thought movement] stirred in your mind, no conflicts of opposition take place there; and when there are no conflicts, one trying to get the better of the other, this is known 'neither foe nor self.' When, further, the mind itself is forgotten together with signs [of thought movement], you enjoy a state of absolutely-doing-nothingness, you are in a state of perfectly quiet passivity, you are in harmony with the world, you are one with it. While the foe-form ceases to exist, you are not conscious of it. Your mind is cleansed of all thought movements, and you act only when there is prompting [from the Unconscious].

“When your mind is thus in a state of absolutely-doing-nothingness, the world is identified with yourself, which means that you make no choice between right and wrong, like and dislike, and are above all forms of abstractions. Such conditions as pleasure and pain, gain and loss, are creations of your own mind. The whole universe is indeed not to be sought after outside the Mind. An old poet sings: 'When there is a particle of dust in your eyes, the triple world becomes a narrow path; have your mind completely free from objects – and how much this life expands!' When even a tiny particle of sand gets into the eye, we cannot keep it open; the eye may be likened to the Mind which by nature is brightly illuminating and free from objects; but as soon as an object enters there its virtue is lost. It is said again that 'when one is surrounded by an enemy – hundreds of thousands in strength – this form [known as my Self] may be crushed to pieces, but the Mind is mine with which no overwhelming army can have anything to do.' Says Confucius: 'Even a plain man of the street cannot be deprived of his will.' When however this mind is confused, it turns to be its own enemy. This is all I can explain here, for the master's task cannot go beyond transmitting technique and illustrating the reason for it. It is yourself who realizes the truth of it. The truth is self-attained, it is transmitted from mind to mind, it is a special transmission outside the scriptural teaching. There is no willful deviation from traditional teaching, for even the master is powerless in this respect. Nor is this confined to the study of Zen. From the mind-training initiated by the ancient sages down to various branches of art, self-realization is the keynote of them all, and it is transmitted from mind to mind – a special transmission outside the scriptural teaching. What is performed by scriptural teaching is to point out for you what you have within yourself. There is no transference of secrets from master to disciple. Teaching is not difficult, listening is not difficult either, but what is truly difficult is to become conscious of what you have in yourself and be able to use it as your own. This self-realization is known as 'seeing into one's own being,' which is satori. Satori is an awakening from a dream. Awakening and self-realization and seeing into one's own being – these are synonymous.”

Source: Suzuki, D.T., Zen and Japanese Culture. New York: Pantheon In, 1959. Print.

Give up your self

I stumbled upon this article last night while my daughter was up with a fussy spell at 3:00 AM.  I found it exceptionally good and one that I put in my "must re-read" list.  Before one can have a masakatsu agatsu or "victory over one's self" moment, one must first know thy self.  Everything before that is just self gratification.  I hope that this article might shine some light on some thing or things that you are working on. The Art of Giving Up by Dyske Suematsu

One winter night, one of the few Japanese friends I had in my early 20s was playing a guitar at his company Christmas party. He was an architect and was about 10 years older than I was. Before he decided to study architecture, he was making a living as a guitarist in Japan. This was not the first time I heard him play, but I was still stunned by how good he was. After his performance, I told him that it was a shame that he was no longer pursuing his musical career. He then shared with me his recent realization that life is a process of giving up. At the time, I didn’t think much of what he said. I think I remembered it only because of its unusual reversal of the popularly held beliefs. Especially on this land of dreams, “giving up” is seen almost as sacrilegious. Everyone’s livelihood seems to precariously hinge on holding big, albeit distant dreams. For some people, the more dreams, the better. So, what did my friend mean when he said that life is a process of giving up?

Now, I not only understand it, but also believe it myself. Another way of saying the same thing is that life is a process of letting go of your own ego, or letting go of your attachments. Contrary to what one might assume from the connotations of the expression “giving up”, this is done in order to enjoy life more. For instance, you cannot enjoy alcohol if you are attached (or addicted) to it. Enjoyment of anything requires a certain distance. When the idea of self (ego) is attached to the object of enjoyment, you lose the ability to see it for what it is. I believe this is partly responsible for the phenomenon called “writer’s block”, in which the identity “writer” is attached to one’s ego so much that the fear of losing that identity becomes greater than the enthusiasm for writing. It is by giving up the idea of becoming a “writer” that one is able to be a writer and enjoy being one. This is difficult to do especially in a country where one’s existence is defined by one’s profession. The fear of not living up to the reputation of the greatest American writer is probably what killed the writer in Truman Capote, for instance.

“Giving up,” in this sense, isn’t the same as quitting. My friend was still playing guitar; he just wasn’t pursuing it professionally. Most alcoholics cannot enjoy alcohol in moderation; they have to quit entirely. In the same way, when you are attached to something, your choices are either to quit altogether or to depend on it for life. Either way, it is not enjoyable. It is also common to see aspiring artists, musicians, and actors entirely drop their activities once they come to a conclusion that they are not going to make it. At that point, it becomes clear that the driving force behind their creative pursuits was not their enthusiasm or passion, but their attachment to the idea of becoming someone. Or, it is also possible that whatever enthusiasm they had was overwhelmed by their fear of failure. Ironically, I believe that, if you can give up the idea of “making it,” you would have a better chance of actually making it. If you were not under pressure from your own expectations, you would enjoy your activities more, and therefore produce better work.

The big question is: Why do we develop attachments at all? As Aldous Huxley said, most human beings have an almost infinite capacity for taking things for granted. We develop attachments and we don’t even know it. Only when we are threatened by the lack or the loss of them, do we realize how much we are attached to them. If we lose our sight, for instance, some of us would probably consider suicide, but if we think objectively about many blind people enjoying their lives, it seems silly to even be depressed about being blind. Also, why don’t animals have the same problem? A dog could lose its leg, and go on living just as happily as before. Such a dog would obviously struggle and suffer the inconvenience, but its spirit would not be affected by it. Some animals like elephants apparently exhibit the signs of depression from the loss of friends and relatives, but many animals leave their own kids behind almost as soon as they are born, and never see them again. They seem to have no attachments, and live strictly in the present moment.

This leads me to believe that there is an evolutionary reason for our tendencies to develop attachments. The more evolved the species are, the more tendencies for attachments they seem to exhibit. I suppose it is quite obvious in one sense. The more attached to one’s own life, the stronger one’s desire to survive. Natural selection, in this way, perhaps favored those humans with stronger egos. Strong egos clash and create conflicts, but these clashes of ideas and egos force better ideas to float to the top. The ideas themselves go through the process of natural selection. Without egos and attachments, this system would not work, and we as a species would be less equipped to survive.

Zen Buddhism is a process of detachment. It is so concerned with attachment that, one is discouraged from being attached to the very idea of detachment, and I can see why; because attachment actually has positive, useful functions. In this sense, Zen is not a process of detachment, but simply an understanding of what attachment is.

As I grow older and face various physical deteriorations, I’m forced to be in peace with the idea of giving up certain things in life. I could possibly refuse to accept the idea of giving up, and try running 10 miles every morning or spend hours in gym, but if my motivation for keeping up my physical strength is to be in denial, then what I’m really giving up is to have the courage to face reality. Again, this attachment to physical strength will eventually extinguish any enjoyment I might get out of exercising.

Having a child is a double-edged sword where it could expedite this process of detachment, or encourage greater attachment to one’s own ego. If you are to see your own child as an extension of your own ego, you are inclined to mold him into something you want. If you succeed at it, your child strengthens your attachment to your own ego. On the other hand, if you see your child as another person with his own ego, he provides plenty of opportunities to make your own ego objectively observable. In other words, your child becomes a useful tool for you to detach yourself from your own ego.

When you say, “I sacrifice myself for my kid,” what you really mean by it is that you are willing to make compromises between what your ego wants and what your kid’s ego wants. In an ideal world, you want your own ego to coincide with that of your kid (because he is merely an extension of your own ego.) If you had no such expectation, there would be no “sacrifice”, because the difference would be exactly what you would want in order to allow you to achieve the detachment from your own ego.

If my observations are correct, detachment allows us to enjoy life in its uncontaminated form, but attachment allows us to achieve better chances of survival as a species. It appears that the forces of evolution are acting against our desire to enjoy life. Ironic, it might seem, but life is all about the interaction of two opposing forces.

Source: www.dyske.com/paper/897

Never give up

Zhongnan Mountain Retreatby Wang Wei (701-761)

In middle age I am rather fond of the Dao, Recently I set up my home at the foot of the Zhongnan mountain. In the mood, I would go to the mountain alone, Splendid things, only I know. Walk to where the water ends; Sit and watch when clouds rise. I meet by chance an old man of the forest; We chat and laugh without a time to return.

Translation from Jingqing Yang's book The Chan Interpretations of Wang Wei's Poetry: A Critical Review.

The implications in Yang's book is that, “having reached the end of the water, other people may lose interest and return, or feel disappointed, but Wang Wei did not. The water ended so he sat down and watched the clouds. His mental peacefulness was not disturbed because the water had ended. He did not care about anything other than following his destiny and accommodating himself to the circumstances.”

I came upon this poem after discovering this piece of calligraphy brushed by Shodo Harada Roshi.  Supposedly, it was titled "Walk to the place where the water ends," but I cannot find any information to corroborate this.  Regardless, the title intrigued me.  When I searched farther I came upon Wang Wei's poem.  His poem struck me and brought me a sense of ease as I thought of watching the clouds.  This poem reminded me of the clouds I saw one day as I looked out my mother's hospital window.

Life is tenuous.  We should do our best to savor every moment and follow our hearts and dream.