AGING IRON

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.