Gaijin Explorer

bai bai

2012-02-20T23:50:00.000+09:00

Gaijin Explorer Inc is experiencing some considerable cuts and the frequency of posts will surely drop considerably. Sell your stocks, stock your pantry, and hold your weapon or bible close because the apocalypse really is coming. DOOOO IT NOWWWWW! (Enter Arnold Shwarzeneger's voice)

I realize I probably just spelled that name wrong, and don't even have enough motivation to spell check it which would take literally 5 seconds. Proof that this blog right now isn't quite in sync with the mind/body/spirit stuff everyone's talking about lately. Recent revelations are leading me to the center, and fretting over thinking about posting on this blog, and not being able to post a single damn thing about the million ideas about zen/aikido/Japan I have everyday is just too much something when I'm looking for nothing.

This weekend I went to an Opeth concert. If you don't know them and are curious to what they sound like and have the slightest effort to find out, look them up on youtube. If you actually go to the effort, you could look up the song "Bleak" to find my favorite tune. Live would probably be good.

So, anyway, I went to this concert and realized I need to be doing what I want to do. But I've realized that ten thousand times before, and where that has taken me is to some ultra-sped up world where I have created far-off goals that I am trying to realize in the moment ... but they're more like the kind that take more than a moment to realize. For only a couple examples, becoming a great writer, a master of martial arts, and more fluent in Japanese than Japanese. I assure you there's many more, but these three seem to be the biggest. Anyway, so I had this revelation, thought about my past conclusions, and remembered a wonderful theme of a recent show I've been watching, "Spartacus", which is ...

"Kill them all."

(If you know about Opeth and Spartacus, and remember I made a post a while back about how the media we watch affects our life and vice versa, you're probably making some connections.)

This doesn't have to be so violent or extreme. It's merely a fact of life and tenet of zen: In order for something new to grow, or to even see reality, we ought to get rid of excess ... what we don't need. Well, what we don't need may be a lot, especially for all of those living in first world countries. After I publish this post, my postings will become severely more infrequent than they already are, and then I will throw away a lot of things I don't need from my apartment ... then tomorrow I'm not going to take a bunch of stuff I don't need to work like I always do, and try not to drink more coffee than I need. We all have dispositions; mine is a tendency to excess and fascination with zen ... which makes for a very strange and often frustrating condition.

Anyway, I'm rambling on, and won't take the time to edit this, so I just want to say that I probably won't be posting often here for a while, but will keep reading the quality blogs I've become so attached to, keep reading about zen, experiencing Japanese culture, and thinking about aikido every step I take.

What is most extraordinary about myself existed before the time I started thinking and hoarding in fear. I don't wish a return, but a rebirth without the bullshite. While that self is in the womb, samurai zac will be dropping the sword a bit on unwelcome guests.

Will Odysseus come home? Or forever be lost at sea?

We must slay the ghosts of our past in order to be born into the next world.

Aikido, Zen, and Monsters

2012-02-12T22:37:00.000+09:00

The motivation for this post is a short documentary of the zen priest, Nishijima Roshi called "Buddhist Life" which can be found on Youtube or a couple of posts back at the wonderful zen blog, http://hardcorezen.blogspot.com/ created by Brad Warner. Like most of my recent posts about aikido, this is also inspired by the frustration I have with the lack of aikido training I have right now. Aside from the specifics altogether, this is another monster that crawls from the depths of my void; one not quite understood yet I seek to describe it.

Zen is very strange in its simplicity because, it's not zen and life, but zen as life. Practicing zen doesn't necessarily seek to create or give one anything. In fact, I think it seeks to be as little as possible in order to have the effect of realizing your life. It does so by cultivating intuitive knowledge of the universe, clarity, and relaxation (which could arguably be called one thing: Enlightenment). One could cultivate these qualities without zen, and if they could achieve doing so, then they wouldn't need to sit and would probably be doing something else. One could maybe say that in zen, there is just sitting; this tiny practice which seeks to be as small as possible for one to reach certain goals.

But in aikido I am gaining something; this is a difference between zen and aikido. I use up time in order to learn specific techniques and movements. I practice these to achieve certain effects. Some are martial, but otherwise I seek intuitive knowledge of the universe, clarity, and relaxation. If I could accomplish these goals of aikido without doing aikido, then I would be doing something else. I think it is important to realize this. If I want to achieve the goals of aikido, martial ability for example, then I should focus on those goals and practice the techniques of aikido, because that is my goal. However, if my goal is simply the act of going to aikido itself, then that is something different. In that case I should also just go and do it. So aikido is something if it is a means to acquiring a goal, but then it's also nothing because all that is real is the goals. On the other hand, aikido is nothing, because it's just me doing the physical movements, but then it is something because it is the goal in and of itself. In this way, it is the same as practicing zen. They can be just tools to reach goals of realizing life. You do not necessarily need them to do so, but they are intelligent tools used in order to realize your life in as simple a way as possible.

Many zen texts and practitioners do not say that zen is the "best" way, but the "easiest" way. One doesn't "master" zen because they are smart, but because they are "stupid", and must struggle to truly understand its nature. This is real accomplishment. I do not practice breaking bricks with punches to feel my strength and tell myself I am strong. In that I would not really be learning something, but just encouraging a lack of ego, and in the end, make it a very difficult path to reaching enlightnment. I practice aikido because I feel it teaches me a very honest way to understanding myself and the universe by continually challenging me to use things other than myself (other than my muscles) and continually changes once I start to understand it. I don't necessarily criticize other ways as "bad" or "stupid", I just practice the way I do because I have certain goals that I think aikido can help realize, I have a certain nature that performs "well" within the realm, and I just like going to aikido.

If your concern is not a particular goal, and you enjoy zen and enjoy aikido, then you necessarily want to do them and end up doing them more. Then your goals are no longer something separated from your practice, but rather become the immediate action at hand motivated by genuine inspiration. So again aikido and zen are nothing, but they can also be goals to experiencing enlightenment; life in and of itself. If I love aikido, I love walking down the street with proper from and being conscious of my surroundings in a way that protects my being, this has little to do with traveling an hour one way to put on a white gi and belt to join a medley of throwing among others in precalculated movements. If I love zen, then I love quietly watching my surroundings with proper form and being conscious of my surroundings in a way that has little concern for "my being". This has little to do with struggling to set aside an amount of time to sit still, aside from all else in my life.

If they are nothing, then perhaps I shall not do them.

What is in front of me is my existence, and courage and clarity is being able to deal with those things. Where I may desire to go, is my intelligence and cunning to find a way to get there. If aikido and zen are before me, I will do them. If not, I will not waste worry and energy.

I have been a particular phase of incredible energy lately, one that has seen "a lot" done; both positive and negative. Postive in time spent consciously trying to advance those things that I do with the utmost of effort. Negative in the amount of worry, ego, and wasted energy on the costs of my ambition for more. We can calculate the phases of our life if we like, and if it doesn't hurt, then "go ahead!" I say. But, if we consciously deny our intuition concerning the current feelings of our life in favor of abstract goals which seek to contain them ... then I would call you a fool. If I have any direction in my life, it's to not be a fool in my own eyes.

Already in folly I write that sentence.

Let me write no further for now, but drink another happo-shu (cheap beer-like drink that has become my substitute for beer), watch some "Kung-fu Panda 2" which I didn't finish the other night (a cheerful break from he all too epic-violent-sexual "Spartacus"), and go to bed, not to wake in fear of accomplishing what I need to accomplish, and rather wake up to do what is to be done.

Some creature that has controlled me for months has passed, another which has been incubating for who knows how long now emerges. I wonder if there is some significant cosmic happenings going on tonight ... in planets and stars and such.

Gaining Passage

2012-02-04T08:37:00.000+09:00

In my job, I teach at four different classrooms around Toyama Prefecture. Only one of the classrooms is actually in Toyama City where I reside, which leaves three in the Niikawa region of eastern Toyama; my old stomping ground. Though I think most would loathe traveling such distances three weeks out of the month, I revel in the long train rides through the country visiting the old places that contain various shards of my heart. My farthest school is Nyuzen, about a 45 minute train ride from Toyama City. It is the smallest town I teach in, and definitely has a special ambience to it. To me, it's a very homely place. It just bleeds cozy, this small concentrated town nestled next to the mountains. It is an extremely humble place with hidden jewels, including two of the best coffee shops in all of Toyama Prefecture in my opinion.

On my fifteen minute walk from the station to the classroom, I pass this shrine, which is also one of the most impressive I've seen in Toyama. It's large, but not overwhelming, and extremely old (or at least appears so.) Certainly something that catches your attention while you walk through the town, though it is not a site of much attention it seems. The picture above doesn't do much service to this description, because it is covered in tarps to protect against snow. To provide entry to the shrine in winter months, a triangle structure is constructed before the entrance. So simple as two sides leaned against each other to form a triangle, but it leaves me in awe. I'd hate to give long descriptions of the "magical and elusive mysterious beauty" of Japan, which is far too often indulged in by travel writers in my opinion. However this is one of those moments I could do so. A funnier image in my mind though is me gawking at this sight while a Japanese looks at me with utter confusion: What is so damn interesting about these two pieces of wood put together?

Anyway, the point of this story is gaining entry to temples we create walls around.

Everyday I make a point to pass through these temple grounds, though I have never breached its steps. Now, in these winter months, the tarps cover it, and this triangular wooden entrance stand before it.

"Whoa, that's so cool! I wonder what it would be like to go in. I shouldn't though. It'd be weird and I have to get to work anyway."

Bollucks!

This shrine of unimaginable mystery is just perplexing me beyond reason when I could just take literally 10 seconds to just walk through the gate. It's amazing the quandary that filled me head concerning this simple action.

"Fine! I shall do it!"

So often these types of adventures disappoint. Such grandiose images of places and quests shrouded in mystery are just too much for the real thing. But this wasn't the case here. It really was so cool! Outside was this bland, one color tarp square covering, set in a swirling arena of whizzing snow. But inside, was this tranquil pool of dry brown complexity. The designs on the temple were so cleanly carved in the aged wood. The tarp set-up itself was a sight of precise construction. Truly a different world: one greater than my imagination. I'm so glad I took the steps to get inside. I'll still get to work with more time than I need, and there was no bystander to deem my entrance strange. What was the big deal?

I dare you readers to enter the temples that inspire you!

Let not fear of death, work, or awkwardness keep you from realizing your life.

Oneness is Duality

2012-02-02T11:14:00.000+09:00

(Toyama Castle amid recent heavy snows)

Here again is another discussion concerning Soetsu Yanagi's wonderful book, "The Unknown Craftsman: A Japanese Insight into Beauty." It has become an incredibly slow read, but only because I've enjoyed it so much and wish not to rush through, instead trying to tease out the most interesting aspects to discuss here on this forum. I've found this book particularly interesting because I relate to his discussions and seek the same: making connections between different modes of art which seek to honestly express ones experience of reality. However, I've also come across many points of disagreement. Let's look at one I found on page 127 in his chapter, "Buddhist Idea of Beauty."

"What then, is Englightenment? It is the state of being free from all duality. Sometimes the term "Oneness" is used, but "Non-dual Entirety" (funi) is a more satisfactory term because Oneness is likely to be construed as the opposite of duality and hence understood in relative terms."

Though Mr. Yanagi's efforts seem genuine, I believe his attempt to define enlightenment fails to accurately do so. In my opinion, his efforts to remedy any misunderstanding of the term Oneness, which may be interpreted as the opposite of duality, is well warranted. I agree that one must understand that Oneness is not an opposite in a relationship, but a holistic state in and of itself. However, by using the description of "Non-dual Entirety," one is still trying to negate the idea of duality and relativity, which is entering an argument of dualistic proportions. By attempting to negate a misinterpretation of Oneness, one is entering into duality. I don't think this is not the Oneness he is attempting to describe. In order to see, understand, or be Oneness, I think one must incorporate duality into the equation. Oneness is duality. Duality is a part of onenness. Oneness is also things other than duality. If one of those things is non-duality, that is also duality, but this does not limit Oneness. Instead of saying "Oneness is not duality", I think it is better to say "duality is Oneness."

Yanagi continues on page 128, "The Undifferentiated, the Non-dual, is assumed to be the inherent nature of man; all Buddhist discipline, therefore, has as its goal the achievement of this Non-dual Entirety. To be in the Non-dual state forever is the meaning of the expression "entering into Nirvana", which is the same as "attaining Buddhahood."

Here I also think Yanagi's words betray him. He speaks of Nirvana as something to enter, and enlightenment something to gain. But this said, means we are outside of Nirvana, and without enlightenment. But isn't that just back to the dualistic argument we're trying to not solely engage? He already states, "The Undifferentiated, the Non-dual, is assumed to be the inherent nature of man." Isn't this enough? I relate to his discussions, which is why I so badly want to understand them and find the most accurate way to describe the experience of life as possible. But alas, trying to do so is endeavoring towards failure merely upon the first step. There is no step to take, we are already there. There is nothing more to see; we already see it. Our experience as is, is Enlightenment.

But, there is something else; a desire, a goal, a journey. As if we do not understand our own Englightenment, we search to find, attain, and enter it. This is paradoxical quest, and so our discussions of it will share the same fate: duality.

One (of many!!!) potential aspects of my misinterpretation of this discussion concern language. In studying the Japanese language and Japanese martial arts, I've found that the Japanese language does in fact have words to accurately describe certain phenomenon which are considerably distorted when translated into English. Is this the same with Buddhism? Are Soetsu Yanagi's accurate descriptions warped by the English translation? The real word in question is "Non-dual", which is even given in Japanese in the book perhaps in order to signify a difference between the Japanese and English translation. Non-dual: funi. I looked up the kanji (Chinese characters) for the word in order to gain more insight, or some kind of nuance, but if there is one it's lost on me.

不二

不 - fu: "not"
二 - ni: "two"

"Not two."

The character 不 is included in many words, and has a slightly different connotation in each word. Perhaps if one understood each of those words, some kind of nuance could be discerned, but it is beyond me. Generally, the character means, "not", and that's as far as my understand can tread.

One can be skilled in describing certain phenomenon, and the Japanese language is an excellent tool used to do so with more intuitive concerns. However, the big-dog, this Oneness business, may truly be beyond all descriptions. Perhaps we should leave it as that: Oneness.

On a more specific note, I'm going on a small trip with my Aikido dojo to an onsen in Shizuoka Prefecture. It is really ridiculous in a wonderful Japanese traveling sort of way. We're going by bus to somewhere really far away for onsen which will only last one night. Why don't we just go somewhere in Toyama or one prefecture over instead of across the mountains? Well, not my problem, I'm not planning the trip. I'm here to sai "hai!", pay money, and enjoy the ride. Sensei has been planning this trip for a little less than a year, so it's a pretty big deal. I'm looking forward to this trip of long bus rides, onsen, fancy Japanese food, and of course ... a lot lot lot of sake. Aikido is not the purpose of this trip, and there will be no planned aikido training ... but I hope to procure some words of Aikido wisdom from Sensei before things get a little too blurry.

But then if we do Aikido once, aren't we always doing aikido? There is nothing to enter, nothing to attain: I am Aikido!

Lands and Their Art

2012-01-27T07:32:00.000+09:00

Unknown forests of dark cedars stand in a monogamous green. Weather hangs around all; mist, rain, snow. Bold earthy colors remain fixed in quietude. This is not a place in which to be well known to the world. Assimilation into anonymity. The bold lines and colors are real.

Between my two homes of the Pacific Northwest in the U.S. and Toyama Prefecture of the Hokuriku Region in Japan, there are great similarities that are continually being revealed to me. It starts with the land. It is first felt by its inhabitants and then interpreted into art. The land is mountainous and covered with large evergreen trees, surrounded by bodies of water, and frequented by large amounts of precipitation. The people are humble and generally aware of something important about the environment in which they live. The art of these lands is simple and geometric, following bold lines of strength which contain details perhaps unnoticed at a first glance. The two respective arts I am thinking of are the Native American art of the northwest in North America and the Aikido I practice in Toyama, Japan.

Growing up in the pacific northwest of the U.S., I was raised in a region where the native art is ubiquitous. Anyone living in the area could identify these images, and yet I don't think many people know what it's about. Its like an unexplained theme that runs through society. (I can't help but think about religion in Japan.) As art it decorates the environment and yet sets a very strong tone. Bold and seemingly simple designs, the colors are usually limited to red, black, and natural wood. To me, I find them relaxing. And yet, I'm inspired by their quiet strength. It's not a showy art in my opinion, nor is it one of staggering complexity.

However, within the broad curves so often exhibited in this kind of native art, one finds a great amount of detail contained. A mesmorizing puzzle of smaller geometric shapes. It's the tendency of these lines that inspired me to make such connections between my homes, but I think the comparison will be made greater still by the application of these two-dimensional designs.

I think of pacific northwest carving, particularly totem poles. The transition from 2D to 3D in this art only exemplifies my feelings of the bold and quiet strength of the art even more. If you were to walk through the forest and find totem poles, first you would see the monoliths as standing pieces of wood, but then you would begin to notice the animal figures in them and then you would notice the small details and designs which make up the totem pole as a whole.

At first when you look at Aikido, it seems simple. But after a closer look the details manifest in numbers more than the mind can comprehend.

The aikido I do here in Toyama feels the same as native totem poles. Sensei's movements are large, broad and strong. Simple in that attention to minor details is often subjugated to the holistic movement and affect of each technique.

It may seem strange to compare these two forms of art in this way because Aikido isn't specific to Toyama, and I don't think my Sensei has spent even a second on such ideas as discussed in this blog entry. And yet, there is something special about Aikido that resembles the northwest art of the U.S. to me that other martial arts don't have. But there are also a lot of interpretations and methods of practicing Aikido that also wouldn't fit these specific feelings I have for this place. It's about a tone, and I can't help but feel like the dojo here is expressing the wilderness of Toyama in technique.

When practicing a technique Sensei will give you one detail to fix at a time. So many times this has happened and I'll say, "OH! This is the secret ingredient to the technique. This is how you do it right." But that is not entirely true. There is no one secret ingredient to a technique. There is no one right way to do a technique. There are many details and variations contained within each technique; to try and conceptualize them all at once in the movement is a very slow way to learn I think.

Generally, instead of focusing on the details that would build up to the big picture. It's more like you follow the main lines of the art and the small details will be attended to in turn; either by necessity or by just falling into place. It's like looking at a totem pole.

After focusing on one detail at a time and internalizing them, one day they will all manifest without thought or effort.

Just like a master carver creates a giant totem pole.

Just like the snow falling on mountain cedars across the Pacific Northwest of North America and the Hokuriku region of Japan.

Comfort Behind the Foggy Glass

2012-01-24T12:25:00.000+09:00

A life of comfort is one easily disturbed by fear.

A life of freedom is one easily disturbed by necessity.

Why? Because we desire our security so incredibly much. Because we fear limitation; because we fear death.

I fear limitations because my mind sets up grandiose ideals that need to be realized. If they aren't realized, well that's just not good for business, and then that situation requires more something. When we do this, seeking something new or better, we ignore the possibility of something truly new, which is beyond our conscious capacities. Isn't that the meaning of "new"? Something we haven't experienced before. Well, if we haven't experienced it, how can we imagine it? Our greatest ideals and dreams tragically limit the experiences we can have. Not only the number of possibilities, merely because we don't see them while focused on the ideas we already have, but also the quality of a new experience, because our ideas of the goal are limited to cerebral desires, a small factor compared to the holistic experience of reality. Even if we compose wondrous dreams that we do in fact realize, taxation is given to the original idea, limiting the holistic experience of a new experience.

Death? Well, I guess I fear not-me; my non-existence. But what a selfish thing, right? I don't even mean the negative social connotation of selfish, but the kind of selfish that can't experience anything without some credit due back to oneself. There is only ourself, and yet to not understand not-ourself, is to miss everything.

Practicing aikido and exploring mountains have nothing to do with me, and yet I can't think of anything more "me" than those two activities.

I'm trying to look at the outside through my window, but it's completely fogged over. Seriously, I've never lived in a place where this happens everyday, but no matter what, my windows are always completely covered in precipitation. I continually wipe them off only to have it fog over again in a matter of minutes. I'd break it open, but the comfort is too valuable.

This is my situation.

Happiness and Not Being Able to Post Comments

2012-01-22T20:13:00.000+09:00

Let's go about this backwards.

I can't look at comments in a regular fashion on my blogposts (though I can find them other ways), but the bigger quandary is I can't comment at all, be it my own blog or others. If anyone knows the answer to this blogging puzzle presented by the anti-posting goblins, please let me know.

Happiness.

In seeking to find the reasons for practicing martial arts, happiness is a concept that never fails to join the conversation, and it usually comes at the end, standing alone as the only tangible reason most of the time. Well, I'm not sure how to connect aikido with the weekend I just had, but I've found some of my highest levels of happiness experienced in the past couple days.

On Saturday I met my 5 closest friends in Toyama City and we departed for a small mountain town called Toga. There, we stayed at this guy's house and had a great shindig remarkably similar to one's I'm used to back home in the States: bbq, fireplace, loud music, booze, close friends, dogs and cats running around, and beds to sleep in. Met a few new awesome people, got a lot closer to the one's I went with, and will be definitely going back to this guy's house many many times in the future in all seasons. This morning we woke up and drove 5 minutes to go snowboarding. No new snow and the lifts at the top of the mountain were closed due to avalanches, so the conditions weren't perfect. But all of us as friends stayed together on the mountain this sunny day, except for a bit where I hiked with my best buddy through the snow for 30 minutes to the lift that was closed, and had a heavenly white 30 second powder rip down. Afterwards, it's onsen and a timely return back home. The words can't express, and I should've taken some fricken pictures to show how awesome it all was. All I have are my emotions on this Sunday night as I crack a Yebisu beer (way to extravagant for my lifestyle and income on a normal night), proceed to watch my recent series of interest (Spartacus), and fall to sleep which will transition me to Monday.

I was thinking earlier this week about what to do with "a lot". So much of our lives, we are lacking something we want, or working for something else, sowing and toiling. This is good I think. But what should we do when we find ourselves with a lot. Having accomplished our goals somewhat and in possession of excess, what do we do knowing that we will soon dip down back into the valleys and have to climb back up? I don't know. Do we need to do something? Say something? Write something? I don't know. Tonight, I think a great way to experience is it is to do exactly what I am: drinking a beer and getting ready to watch my show and go to sleep. That makes me pretty happy.

And Aikido? One of my favorite activities that brings me a great a happiness. I should climb out of this valley that keeps me from practice, and find that mountain temple where I can train to my heart's content with good people.

Happiness is everything. No-Happiness is everything too.

But Happiness is really really cool sometimes, like friends, snowboarding, house parties with animals and fire places, onsen.

Do what makes you happy.

Pottery and Martial Arts

2012-01-18T13:21:00.002+09:00

What do pottery and martial arts have in common?

Well, that's what I want to try to explain over the next few posts as I read through Soetsu Yanagi's, "The Unknown Craftsman: A Japanese Insight into Beauty." For a brief introduction to the man, here's what Wikipedia has to say:

---------------------------------------------

Life
In 1916, Yanagi made his first trip to Korea out of curiosity about Korean crafts. The trip led to the establishment of the Korean Folk Crafts Museum in 1924 and the coining of the term mingei by Yanagi, potters Hamada Shōji (1894-1978) and Kawai Kanjirō (1890-1966).
In 1926, the Folk Art Movement was formally declared by Yanagi Sōetsu. Yanagi rescued lowly pots used by commoners in the Edo and Meiji periods that were disappearing in rapidly urbanizing Japan. In 1936, the Japanese Folk Crafts Museum (Nihon Mingeikan) was established.

[edit] The mingei theory

The philosophical pillar of mingei is “hand-crafted art of ordinary people” (民衆的工芸 minshū-teki kōgei^?). Yanagi Sōetsu discovered beauty in everyday ordinary and utilitarian objects created by nameless and unknown craftsmen. According to Yanagi, utilitarian objects made by the common people are “beyond beauty and ugliness”. Below are a few criteria of mingei art and crafts:

made by anonymous crafts people
produced by hand in quantity
inexpensive
used by the masses
functional in daily life
representative of the region in which it was produced.

------------------------------------------------

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soetsu_Yanagi

Without writing a biography on him (or even cutting and pasting one), what's important in my discussion is his glorification of the term mingei. In his writing, Yanagi often draws contrasts between traditional mingei and modern individualistic productions. I don't always agree with him, or at least I don't understand his arguments completely, but Yanagi's words present a great puzzle to me as to what deeply rooted dark source lies beneath the creation of pottery. He is deemed a philosopher, but I'm not sure he'd be content with such a title. A philosopher creates ideas concerning abstract ideas and the physically manifest world. I don't think Yanagi would agree that he creates any of these particular ideas, but instead seeks to follow the natural laws of the world, and from those limitations, creates pottery, which in turn can define and possibly create new realities. Aligned with this philosophy (if I dare use this word I've already deemed inaccurate), he advocates practice before theory. In order to know about a particular subject, one must have an intimate relationship with it through the experience of creation. A potter who has spent their life constructing honest pieces while saying or thinking nothing on the matter will know more than their counterpart who merely philosophizes.

Aren't martial artists just the same?

I haste to say it's up to personal opinion, but just like philosophy, I think opinions lay at the end of the production of art. Art is an expression of reality; mountainous experiences untouched by the clouds of theory. And yet, it's those clouds that produce the rain which carve lines in the mountains ...

I've dreaded writing some kind of introduction to this topic, and just look where I've gone with it! Let's just get started with the damn thing. Instead of paraphrasing Yanagi's chapters or analyzing every bit of the house, I will attempt to tease out the most provocative bricks and speak from there. Though to have the best discussion all of his words should be considered. Regardless ...

Pattern (using the example of a pattern of bamboo)

"How is it that one sees the bamboo in the pattern? Because the essence of bamboo is there, just as prolonged boiling renders a concentrated flavour. The process of making a pattern out of raw material is similar, it is an extract, so when we look at a good pattern we perceive something of greater content. No bamboo grass in nature can be more beautiful than a bamboo grass pattern. We can never see nature as more beautiful than a beautiful pattern. If we see nature as beautiful, then we are, in a sense, seeing it in patterns. Pattern is the crystallization of beauty. To understand beauty and to understand pattern are aspects of the same thing."

Yanagi. The Unknown Crafstman. 114, 115.

Parallels budoka? In Karate there are kata. In Tai Chi Chuan there are solo forms. In Aikido we have particular waza between uke and tori. All of these are predetermined movements created to simulate the reality of physical interaction, usually implying violent and uncooperative partners. Martial arts are a crystallization of nature, thus a crystallization of beauty ... thus more beautiful? To understand this I think requires us to abandon any concepts of objectivity. There is a bamboo plant. There is a human looking at a bamboo plant. The bamboo plant is not just the bamboo plant anymore, but an experience that involves the viewer. The interpretation of the viewer, be it conscious or unconscious, seems to be more beautiful to Yanagi than the bamboo in isolation. Furthermore, he seems to make a point that the conscious effort of interpreting that bamboo into a work of art is even more so. But perhaps I go to far.

First of all

This discussion however, marks an intriguing debate for martial artists: What is more beautiful? Nature itself or distilled techniques?

Wow! That is not a question to be left by itself. There are some serious issues here to make clear before we go further.

First of all, what is "beautiful" in the martial arts? Actually, what does "beauty" even have to do with martial arts? Should we just throw beauty out of the question altogether when discussing martial arts? In my opinion, at this stage, yes; we should throw beauty out of the question altogether. Like philosophy, beauty is something to consider after the fact, not a reason for necessarily. Martial arts are a utilitarian endeavor. Whoa! Back up to the top of the post and read bullet points found in the wikipedia cite for what constitutes mingei crafstmanship, "functional in daily life." Furthermore, the wikipedia cite states, "According to Yanagi, utilitarian objects made by the common people are 'beyond beauty and ugliness'." Yanagi makes a big effort to show that utility must come before any concepts of conscious beauty in order for real quality in a product to arise. We're not just dealing with "art" as a whole necessarily here when comparing pottery and martial arts, but a specific kind of pottery which emphasizes particular factors that are also found in the martial arts. Conversely, I'm talking about martial arts that have a defined purpose to start from, instead of others that start from the ideal of beauty and work to technique.

OR AM I?

Crap, somehow martial arts seem to be more complicated than pottery, just when I thought it was the other way around. Martial arts are not pottery. Pottery, and design, mimic patterns in nature. For example, a design of a bamboo plant. A bamboo plant is a specific entity in nature. Humankind's interpretation of the bamboo plant into design is more beautiful than the plant. However, martial arts are not a design or reproduction of some single entity like a plant, but seek to simulate a situation: physical interaction. So, man's interpretation of physical conflict is more beautiful than physical conflict? These are two very different things I think.

Let's make this simple:

The purpose of a bowl (pottery) is to hold something.

The purpose of a technique (martial arts) is to ... ummmm ... OK, here I go: To protect oneself in a physical confrontation with a malicious counterpart. Nope, that's not it. I'm not happy with that. Because ... I don't think there is "the Purpose" to the martial arts.

WAIT! I've got it now. So, yes, we can ascertain the purpose of a bowl, to hold something, and martial arts, to protect oneself. But then we're disregarding the concept of beauty, which is what Yanagi is trying to explain. If the only important factor to a bowl was holding something, then Yanagi wouldn't have a problem with crass mass production, but he does. If martial arts were all about self-defense, then I wouldn't be practicing aikido.

There is something in martial arts beyond self-defense or violent capabilities. Self-cultivation? I'd like to find some other words for that. Beauty? Certainly not that alone. This is a riddle.

The distillation of pattern from nature is more beautiful than nature itself. This involves a relationship of interpretation and creativity. It is not some abstract concept nor a static animate object in isolation, but the act of engagement.

The continual process of life.

Which bowl is better? Which martial art is better?

I'll tell you next time!

"I'm already pulled over, I can't pull over any more!"

2012-01-11T11:19:00.000+09:00

"...a bird or fish that aimed to move through the water or the sky (only) after getting to the bottom of water or utterly penetrating the sky, could never find its way or find its place in the water or in the sky."
-Dogen. "Shobogenzo"

Welcome to my world! Zen masters emphasize having "One Vehicle" to experience the world. Well, I have one room to experience everything in my apartment! One room for storage, drying laundry, sleeping, working, relaxing, watching videos, surfing the internet, sitting, practicing martial arts.

Well, that's not exactly true. Behind the viewpoint of the camera in the first picture is another area of the same room that is a little smaller. In that space you will find my modest kitchen. Apparently we should not only have "one vehicle", but a very very small one. Look at my perfect tiny sink, and my one tiny perfect burner. The absolute ideal of zen!

Alllll the way across my kitchen about four feet away is my closet. We also hear about the perfect being contained in the imperfect. (Or perhaps it's the other way around when considering "big mind".) It's hard to tell in this picture, but this plastic portable closet of mine is developing a wicked tilt forward. Every month it seems to bend a little more, further manifesting the beauty of the imperfect. When it finally collapses it will be a great masterpiece of zen.

It has taken me a while to become used to my humble domicile, and honestly I'm not there yet if you consider the ideal state to be perfect contentment. I want a bigger place with more rooms, more closets, and a bed. For that I need more money. In order to get more money I need a new job, or at least another one. MORE!

But what would I do with a bigger place that I can't do now? Perhaps my desire for more is insatiable. Upon accumulating that desired more, I may only want more again. I'd like to think I'm a fairly simple guy at the bottom of it all; I just want to enjoy my life. But around that little grove of "enjoying-my-life" is a little elf that encourages me to live my life even more than I'm living my life right now. If only I could get to that one spot he speaks of, then I will finally be able to live. How can I live my life more than I'm living my life right now?

Am I not like a fish or bird that aims to move through the water or the sky (only) after getting to the bottom of water or utterly penetrating the sky?

If only I could accept my state and see it for the perfection it is I could be a happy fish-bird. But we have to do things don't we? Here is a pardox containing two opposites. The flux of the convergence and divergence of these two entities just may be ... something.

Great questions we have. Here and now is no place to attempt explanation of them any further though. For that we will need more time and some specific examples. While I may not be going to aikido as much as I'd like, I've just inundated my library (with the help of Santa) with some new inspiration that will surely be spotlighted in posts to come. Three of which are:

1.) "Shobogenzo", the great masterworks of Dogen, the Japanese priest famous for bringing Soto Zen to Japan in the thirteenth century.

2.) "The Unknown Craftsman: A Japanese Insight into Beauty", written by Soetsu Yanagi, founder of the Japan Folkcraft Museum in Tokyo.

3.) "Disputers of the Tao: Philosophical Argument in Ancient China", written by A.C. Graham.

Well, enough messing around. It's time to ride my bike in the snow so that I can teach some little Japanese kids how to speak English ... or at least keep them from hurting themselves or others or destroying the classroom they visit for an hour today.

Samurai Medicine

2011-12-21T17:48:00.001+09:00

When reading about traditional Chinese medicine, one of the first concepts you learn is the concept of appropriate application. A particular herb may be good for alleviating one ailment, but hazardous to another. That particular herb may be the necessary remedy, but if taken at the wrong time or without proper application its effect may be nullified. So, it's not just ailment and cure, but the application which incorporates a lot of sensitive issues such as timing and dosage. I use the specific example of traditional Chinese medicine here, but I don't know traditional Chinese medicine very well. What I do know, and what is relevant to me, is the healing or distorting effects of the various stimuli I incorporate into my life. In this case, it's the media like images, music, books, television and movies I expose myself to.

This fall was a chaotic time for me where I felt buried by the amount of everything around me and the lack of resources with which I had to dissolve them, or at least I thought. What seems to have been ideal in retrospect was a calming of my anxieties and a clear vision in order to untangle all of the complexities that were consuming my mind. Perhaps the most beneficial media would be of the sort that would act as an agent to encourage the discipline to stick to a healthy and conserving routine. To this end I was listening to ambient music, drinking tea, going to bed early, and reading books about the things that usually calm and interest me. In my daily life, I tried to spend only the bare minimum needed to survive. But it didn't work. It was too quiet and wasn't real. So when I decided to act otherwise, I would blast out on the opposite end of the spectrum. I would abandon all previous thoughts of healthy conservation and plow forward with luxurious desires fueled by heavy metal and my favorite expensive beer. This felt powerful, but I would only wake up deeper in the hole.

All of those individual aspects are perfect with the right application and moderation, but I wasn't adhering to such ideals with success. Traditional Chinese medicine seeks to restore balance by counteracting excess and depletion. I was in a very hot summer of sorts and sought balance, but the cooling remedies I attempted were too severe. Then I took heating agents which ended up taking me to boiling point. These are matters I feel I should handle myself, so in a sense I am my own life-doctor, choosing which stimuli I should imbibe. I believe this touches on another important concept in traditional Chinese medicine; a self-sufficient and preventative approach to finding one's balance, as opposed to going to an outside source receiving temporary remedies for ailments that have already matured. I was not a good doctor to myself.

However, the other night I watched a movie that was just what my internal doctor should have known to prescribe: "Chonmage Preen."

Harking back to my original curiousity of Japanese bushido and samurai. I picked up this interesting movie which reinvigorated the kind of feelings inside of me that can successfully battle those antagonists that have so recently devoured my health. (Chonmage is the traditional hairstyle worn by samurai. Preen is a custard dessert.)

It's a story about a samurai named, Yasube, who somehow finds himself time traveling forward to modern Tokyo where he becomes entangled in the life of a single mother and her 5 year old son. In his free time adjusting to his new life, Yasube watches cooking shows on TV and becomes a skilled patissiere. However, he abruptly finds himself sinking back into time from whence he came.

For such a cliche story, I really enjoyed it. Certainly not the heavy nature you usually expect from samurai films, but it still displayed the ethics and code of conduct a samurai is expected to posses. This is the kind of influence that I've been needing.

What I absorbed from this movie were the notions of discipline so often attributed to samurai, yet adopted to modern times. A samurai he still was, but one that couldn't use his sword or social status to achieve his aims. What was distilled were the old values applied to modern scenarios.

One of the first interesting differences you see in the movie are in the ways of speech. Yasube introduces himself to people and speaks in an old dialect, which is a comedic point in the film. But this also reveals interesting notions of our modern use of speech. Japanese is particularly interesting in that people use different words and modes of speech depending on their social status. Keigo is a special form of languge in Japanese used to distinguish social status and dilineate respect. It is used commonly today; clerks will use keigo when talking with customers, and Japanese will use keigo with superiors in office settings or formal situations. But for most conversation, it's viewed as strange. Yasube uses keigo with everyone, which is strange in modern situations, but it shows a respect for others, and the ability to subvert one's own bias in order to make a stiuation as "appropriate" as possible. Ideas of "appropriate" behavior are often viewed negatively by Westerners because it connotates submission; an enemy of the so highly valued freedom-of-expression we cherish in our individualistic culture. But this is where misinterpretations of samurai and even Japanese culture often occur. Many people believe it needs to be one extreme or another. For example, some may believe being "appropriate" in Japan means using the most polite language to everyone and bowing with every word, but this is strange and not Japanese. Or perhaps being a samurai means expecting enemies around every corner and treating every aspect of the world as battlefield to consume foes in the name of one's lord, but I think there is a lot more to samurai than that kind of thinking. Japanese culture and samurai are more about appropriate application. In some situations it is appropriate to voice your opinion, and in others it is appropriate to subvert your feelings for what's best for the group and environment.

I mentioned that the samurai in the movie often used keigo and old dialects with people in the movie to show respect, but there are also scenes where he abondons this and scolds others using abrasive and harsh language. When he does so, it is terrifying and effective. The samurai is not necesarily brought to anger, but utilizes such language to achieve a specific means. In the cases of scolding others, he is attempting to affect someone's behavior to change for the better. Again, appropriate action directed to a specific end; one that necessarily benefits others.

Adaptation was another theme throughout the film. Though the samurai was transported to another time altogether, Yasube found an application for his skills. Perhaps he was a naturally gifted patisiiere, but that is irrelevant. What the movie exemplified was the application of his skills that were born in bushido to cooking. He followed recipes exactly as they were given, he made every effort to be as clean and precise as possible, and he put all of his concentration and effort into the particular dishes he was making. In this way, he found great success making pastries. If one applies these efforts to their endeavors as Yasube did, perhaps our abilities could extend much farther than what we commonly believe. To me this is incredibly liberating. What matters more than your natural gifts or limitations is your conviction to do something the best you can. If you have the discipline to apply your effort without distraction, and be able to do so intelligently as possible, you can do amazing things. Cleanliness, focus, patience, perseverence; finally these ideals found reality and relevance when I watched this film.

However, there is much more to life than these isolated abstractions. There are these specific ideals of the samurai, but they are not necessarily the desired goal, and certainly not the whole picture.

I believe samurai were not perfect, but rather people just like you and me and everyobody else. I imagine they had just as many worldly issues in the way of their dreams as we do. They need to breathe, sleep, eat, take care of family issues, struggle with society, and deal with sickness and death. The difference is that a samurai, regardless of their bodily or situational limitations, would adhere religiously to the pursuit of perfection.
With this intent, the illusory clouds of fear that have gathered inside of me are cast out, and I reclaim the center. No matter my limitations nor the propensity of my adversity, I can engage the demons of my life with the most powerful of patience and skill. Holding to that base, the outcome, which is me engaged with the realities of life, is the pinnacle of beauty. With that, I am invincible. Death is nothing but a stone on the path.

Thank you Yasube.

One last comment I thought of separately, but seems incredibely relevant, runs as such:

To find perfection in the moment, a peace and patience that envelopes the whole of the universe containing all of your small fears and squabbles inside, is to find happiness.

To string every now-moment together perfectly with the following consecutive now-moments, is great.

To make a goal and connect all of the consecutive now-moments together to collectively and intelligently build towards your goal successfully, is to be a great human being.

This is what I want to do.
The samurai ethics are not superior to any others, but they are appropriate for me today, and so that is my path.

Oh yeah, Happy Holidays! Tomorrow I fly to my childhood nest in the northwest corner of the greater U.S. Perhaps I'll find a few dojo rats there ...

Surviving the Fall

2011-12-13T22:00:00.000+09:00

I successfully made it to the cliffside and jumped full on. I expected many obstructions, but never predicted just how taxing it would all really be.

Pockets bled and heavy doses of external stimuli were taken to compensate. My old tools were useless, and through trials, my abilities seemed to wane.

When I thought I was safe, I just wasn't there yet.

Thoughts only exacerbated the wounds.

Instead of falling into my place, I was falling into abyss. Calling out, my voice echoed back as fear.

The Fall.

Falling into my place. Falling into fear. But, aren't they both just ... falling?

What's the difference? My body is the same body that falls regardless. Those walls I pass on the way down are just those passing walls.

There is something that changes everything.

I'll call it a mask.

The details aren't so important. Certainly not worth my time to write or yours to read. But it's been one hell of a fall. Through these times, if we stop, then that's it. What you see is what you get, and the rest will be written about it. But it's all redeemed if you can see it through. If you can crawl out and stand up straight, it was all worth it, and the lessons will be learned. I have learned a few crucial lessons through this period. They are all ones I've known before, they've just been futher illuminated. However, this does not mean that they are the same; the rules have changed a bit and so have I. Furthermore, and more importantly, they haven't been any easier to put into action. If anything, they have become a bit harder. The lessons I have learned are directions on the map, and they are challenges that require true action.

What does this look like in aikido?

Well, when I went to practice the other night, there wasn't one great particular thing that seemed off with my technique, it was more like every little bit was quite a bit off. Maybe a beginner could look and say, "well that doesn't look too bad at all." And yet, in every movement and connection I make, there are beaming flaws. Everything needs work, simulatneously in an effort that will take time.

However, I've noticed two immediate things I can do that will change a whole lot: First, keep my back straight. I have a tendency to hunch over a bit in my movement and it compromises everything. Need to keep that straight like a plumb hanging from the sky. Second, relax my shoulders. This is another small detail that throws everything off. Let them hang and find another way to move that doesn't ignite the muscles.

We fall, we die, we are born.

Hooray we're alive!

Now what do we do?

Relax, breathe, and build ... one little universe of a block at a time.

Screw Cleaning!: I'm going on a bike ride

2011-11-29T23:17:00.000+09:00

I had a day off and a lot of cleaning to do. It was one of those things I preordained the night before; no matter what, I was doing that cleaning. I prayed for heavy rains so that there would be no temptation at all to saddle my bike. Well, it was fricken unbelievably sunny outside. I walked down seven flights of stairs convincing myself that a trip to the store and back would suffice ... but once I saw my bike, I walked back up the seven flights to grab a banana, granola bar, and camera which would be needed on a trip much longer than just to the store and back. I came back down and flew outside on two wheels. Crap, I need sunglasses. Back up and down, and then off.

Seriously, people (me included) often waste so much time not doing what they really want and feeling bad about it, but with this small decision I tackled that gargantuan quandary and was just doing it. I started to feel bad like I should be doing the other things that seem as though they will more greatly affect my future for the better ... and then I found quite possibly my greatest demon ...

Wasting time. When I get confused, or unhappy, or any negative emotion ... it's root is usually gripping tight into the poisonous soil, rank in dark stagnant places with the fear of wasting time. I'm not sure why I feel that way, how "good" or "bad" it is, or exactly how to extricate this fear from my life ... but I know that it is the biggest waste of time to worry about worrying about wasting time. I'm huge about abstract analogies and metaphors, which is probably why I love reading about esoteric religions and philosophies, but I've found a great one lately somewhere in my mind.

The fear pulls me up on strings just like a puppet. The tension constricts my shoulders forcing me to hunch pulling my center of gravity up, and my eyes are fixed forward in a stare that sees absolutley nothing. My mind is pure fear, completely consumed by it. And all I have to do ... is cut the strings. Cut those strings and let that fear rocket into the sky, to hell, wherever, who cares. Instantly I relax, resting my weight down and shooting my spine straight up. The tension sinks from my face, neck, and shoulders and I take deep breaths. Cut the strings of your fear.

So I did, and ended up finding some cool castle ruins with no castle almost right in the middle of the city.

I've never heard about this before, and imagine most people in Toyama haven't either. Doesn't surprise me though, because there's nothing there really. It's just the grounds for where an old castle used to be. But when you look at it, the size is impressive. If you can imagine a castle there, it would probably be the same size or bigger than the "real" Toyama Castle that stands now in the middle of the city.

Knowing this drastically changed my perspective on Toyama, and thus my life. I guess that's why I was a history major in college. But few know, and less care. "What a waste of time" someone might say. Well, I got back in time to do a thorough cleaning anyway, so there.

Only problem is, I can't find my air conditioner remote (which acts as my only heating system in my apartment at the moment.) This is a huge problem because there is no manual remote on it, it's too old to get a generic replacement at an electronics store, and no one is going to pay for it to be replaced if it's not broken. But look! It's as good as broken if you can't use it right?

Fear. I don't fear the cold. But you know what I do fear? Toyama summertime coming along and me being without air conditioning ... literally hell on earth. Not even Japan in summer, just a Japanese apartment. Like little ovens they are.

Cut the strings and ride, puppets! You're free!

Elbow Stacking in Shihonage

2011-11-21T14:16:00.000+09:00

Weed out the worms,starve them of the poison they love.
Replace it with knowledge,
that will shine light on the dank stagnant boils where they fester.
Dry them up until they crack into dust, then sweep them out.
Expel the worms that work towards your premature rotting.
This cleaning is infinity.

Continuing on with my discussion from the last two posts on elbow stacking, putting one's elbow directly above or below a partner's for ideal positioning, here I will show it's application in shihonage, a basic technique in Aikido. This particular version of shihonage starts from gyaku hanmi katatedori : in this case it's where I started with my left leg and arm forward and my partner started with their right leg forward and they grab my left wrist with their right hand.

The picture above does not match my ideal for elbow stacking. Can you see why? Because the elbows are not directly above and below each other! But perhaps this is the phase just before reaching the point of elbow-stackage, which reveals one problem I mentioned earlier about trying to break down these techniques; they should be done in continuous fluid motion. Stopping them allows us to take a picture and have a discussion on a particular point, but it is not the technique. Unfortunately, in the few pictures I took, I just couldn't get the shot right. Not to blame a partner, but successful completion of this technique does require some things from the partner, which my partner may not have been so privy too. First of all, one must maintain a solid grip on your wrist through the technique. If it is too lax and there is space, then my wrist will slip out of the partner's hand, connection is lost, and another technique would suit the situation better. Perhaps these pictures serve as a better image of what it looks like just before you stack the elbows. Or maybe I just don't know what I'm talking about! HAHA!

Anyway, I wanted to show this particular example of elbow stacking because in my last two posts, the tori's elbow (person doing the technique, me in these instances) is above the opponents, breaking their balance and dropping them downwards. With shihonage though, we get the opposite effect. As I move to put my elbow directly underneath my partner's as they maintain an honest grip, they will be forced upwards on to their toes to get the effect of what is often called, "floating waza"; a technique that utilizes this uprooting of the partner giving them a brief feeling of floating. If you don't stack the elbows properly, you probably won't get the "floating" effect which is key to breaking the balance of your partner.

Of the many potential boundaries I create in my technique keeping me from efficient movement, it's the tension in my shoulders which I think is most problematic. If one can relax their upper body, primarily the shoulders, then a solid/fluid (funny how those antonyms are both part of the same thing here eh?) connection with the ground is made, which is your greatest support and strength in this technique. You are the tool, the medium between the earth and gravity, the magician of forces that utilizes certain facts of life to produce certain outcomes, in this case, unbalancing your opponent and putting yourself in an advantageous position. If you are clean of impurities, in this case, muscle tension in the shoulders, then those forces you seek to utilize can work to their greatest potential.

Saying this, my shoulders are not completely relaxed in my technique. This is the greatest difference between me and my teacher. I can talk about it, but achieve little results in actuality whereas my Sensei can just do it. Well, how do you breach that wide gap between our respective abilities? Time and experience I suppose ... at least that's what everyone is saying.

But I need to go to sleep soon, and then I have to go to work, because I have bills to pay, and then I have to go to the supermarket to buy food, then I have to cook the food and then spend time in the bathroom. Then there's places I need to go in order to see people I need to meet. I'm here ready to devote myself to improvement in technique but it's just so ... complicated sometimes. Maybe not, it's all just time and experience right? I suppose there is also a gap between the realization of this ideal and practical daily life. It's all physics ... no magic.

Well, doesn't stop me from searching for the Holy Grail. Gonna live forever I swear, even if it kills me.

Stacking Elbows in Aikido and Following Dogen

2011-11-14T15:11:00.000+09:00

The darkness at the bottom is quiet.

The light above is piercing bright.

We are engaged by the myriad creatures and landscapes on all sides.

Here is my partner who will soon succumb to the power of elbow stacking!

In my last post I talked about how we often practice kotogaeshi and I received a comment from someone saying that they have never seen it that way. I'm not sure what particular the comment was directed towards, but here I'll show another example of a technique that utilizes one of aspects I talked about in the last post: elbow stacking.

Actually I'm not really sure what it's called, if it's got a specific name at all, but that's what I'm going to call it until I hear a better term. Anyway, elbow stacking. It's where the tori (person doing the technique [me in the picture]) positions their elbow either directly above or the below their partner's for an advantageous position. In this series of pictures, elbow stacking is utilized in tenkan undou, which is more of just a warming up excercise than an actual technique. We do this everyday after stretching and before starting techniques. As I said, it's not really a specific technique, but it's a movement we use in A LOT of techniques. We start from the position above where one partner grabs the other's wrist.

The tori pivots on the right leg (stepping forward if one must for optimal position), and swings their left leg around to the outside, away from the partner. From here, a lot of techniques can be used, but for the purposes of the tenkan undou, the partner steps with their right foot to bring them back in front of the partner, pivots on it, and starts another rep by grabbing the other hand. But what I want to focus on here is the position of the elbow. Tenkan undou has a lot of small details one must be mindful of in order to do it well, but it seems that this elbow stacking is the key to its success. I say this because the purpose of this technique, and arguably all aikido techniques is kuzusu, putting one off their balance (while maintaining good posture yourself).

Here is the same technique seen from the other side.

If my partner's elbow is not directly under mine, and is between my elbow and my body, our space is jammed, putting them under my center of gravity which is ideal for them, and also forces me into an uncomfortable position which means I'm flexing my shoulder muscles, making me vulnerable and off balance. If my partner's elbow is not directly under mine, and is to the outside of mine, then they can recover their position easily and are probably not put off balance at all. By stacking my elbow directly above their's, they are forced downward and off balance while I maintain a strong position transitioning into another movement.

That last line is very important, and something really hard to get from pictures and explanations. First off, this is a practice that is the beginning of techniques, and is not necessarily a technique in and of itself to be used in a self defense situation; it is a transition that moves into another movement. Secondly, this should be executed in one full movement without stops. You can break it down to some extent as I have in the pictures, to show certain aspects or teach or learn the movement, but it's effectiveness is broken down with the stops. This also doesn't mean you start the technique from a wrist grab. Ideally, it's started before contact. As one partner reaches for the wrist, movement has already started and the partner does not wait to "start" the technique upon contact, but just slightly begins movement to set up the technique. Also, as with most aikido techniques, it requires a specific movement from the partner. In this instance, it requires the partner to maintain a substantial (not necessarily strong muscle exerted desperate grasp, but a soft/strong grab) throughout the technique until the end. To many that may seem foolish because someone would never hold on to the wrist through such a movement, but would instead let go. Well, if they let go then you should do a different technique. Also, it could be argued that if performed in a fluid movement with an honest attack from the partner, the partner will be put off balance and maintain the grab in order to find balance, and thus feed the technique even more to the tori's advantage. Instead of letting go, they'll hold on more desperately! But I'm not that good, and such discussions will have to be further explained in a post far into the future.

For now, this small detail of elbow stacking.

Oh yeah, and Dogen; the man credited as the founder of the Soto sect of Zen Buddhism who lived from 1200 - 1253 C.E.

It could be said we are all on a path, partaking in a journey, headed in some direction. Recently I have been reading a book called, "Visions of Awakening Space and Time: Dogen and the Lotus Sutra" by Taigen Dan Leighton. It's a great but intense read, one of those where you read for a half an hour and then realize you've only gotten through about 8 pages, and is acting as some sort of mysterious gate to reading Dogen's most famous work, the "Shobogenzo." I started this specific path with martial arts by practicing Karate where I started a fascination with Zen Buddhism, but always read about it with respect to martial arts. Then I began exploring other Zen-esque philosophies as their related to cultural arts in Japan, and then finally made my way to read Shunryu Suzuki's, "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind," which was an apex of sorts in this quest. I've been reading some various books about Zen, but I feel as though I'm delving much deeper now, and am approaching what it is I've been looking for for so long, here standing at the first gate of the Shobogenzo.

But then there's all this other stuff that keeps coming up like work and bills and responsibilities and obligations, and then all of my other remedies and solutions and distractions accompanying them, and then whole other realms of love and accidents and surprises. It's so important and so fragile, this adventure of study that now brings me to Dogen.

I wonder what would happen to this part of my life if I just let it all go. Nothing and something I imagine.

Aikido: Kotogaeshi and Softness

2011-11-02T08:29:00.001+09:00

This is part of a move in aikido called kotogaeshi, and there are a lot of intricacies involved. Three I'd like to talk about are elbow placement, points of contact, and angle of the hand.

Ah, the concentration. How can I show this technique, take a picture of it, and not concentrate too hard on the pretty girl.

Anyway, elbows. When doing this technique, it's easy to just grab your partner's wrist and swing around pulling them by their wrist, but that puts you in a weak position where you'll probably be relying on muscle strength or your partner's lack of skill. To prevent that, we need to find ourself in a position where our elbows are above our partner's. This is apparent in a lot of different aikido techniques, and is one of the gems Sensei is always trying to get us to focus on, but it's one that usually isn't remembered or at least executed. If your elbow is in the right place as tori (person executing the technique), then you can be in a comfortable position of strength without relying on muscles and your opponent will be forced into one that's compromised.

But first, points of contact need to be correct. (This is actually one part that hasn't really been explained to me, but I'll try and interpret it from all the times I've felt and seen it). The focus of my intent is on my hand, particularly the base of my palm next to the wrist. According to the pictures, it's actually best two pictures before this text. My hand should be such that my fingers raise up a bit, placing the base of my palm close to the wrist pushing downwards. If my weight is relaxed, this point will bear down on the partner in just the right place: the first quarter of the partner's arm towards the wrist. This point on the partner's wrist we're talking about is huge in the aikido my Sensei does; a point on the body with great potential. Usually we focus on this point as the person executing the technique (me in the pictures) as a point of contact and a place we keep heavy to bear down on or guide our partners through techniques, but here we focus on that point of strength in the opponent and use it against them. Proper uke is executed when you are mindful of this spot and don't let your partner break that part of your structure down.

Then the hand. Our index finger should be such. Also take a look at where my hand is (the one on top), the base of my palm is on my partner's arm arm about a quarter of the way from the wrist.

But we we don't just have our hand flat-parallel with the floor; it should be at an angle. As I follow a horizontal circle with my hand going in the direction of my index finger, there should be a slight angle just like a train going around a bend. The train, or car, or any such vehicle, doesn't take turns staying straight up, but goes at an angle while making the turn. Our hands should be like this. It can be really uncomfortable for the partner to keep their balance or take control of the technique.

I'm not sure how you do kotogaeshi, but these are a few of the details we focus on considering hands and arms.

I have to say that I don't see myself doing this perfect in any of the pictures. I've done this technique hundreds of times, and putting special effort into making it accurate in a still position, and I still can't get it right! I'd say that's a testament to the time it takes to become a skilled aikidoka. These are not techniques you see and do and BOOM it's perfect. It takes time. But here's me in a funny position in this funny place and time. I'm also unsure of my descriptions, but I don't ever know exactly what my Sensei is saying anyway! Haha! Maybe my aikido is more like interpreting a piece of art rather than analyzing an engineering manual.

Anyway ... softness.

I'm going to aikido about four times a month now, which is not very much. So when I go to practice, my whole being is like a laser, focused on what Sensei is doing and what he wants his students to do. There are a lot of shortcomings that go along with my recent infrequency, but one thing I've noticed is a heightened sensitivity on feeling how much people struggle, use muscle, and grab (negative connotation here) throughout techniques. It's too much in the wrong place. There's also a lot of stops. When Sensei does a technique, he is incredibly strong, but this has to do with body placement and weight distribution, not muscle. So if you're using extra muscle in the technique ... it's not it, and so it's not so wise to keep doing so. Sensei holds on to you with grabs and locks through techniques, but he never feels like he's really grabbing you. Again, negative connotation. He's not excessive. But many people, probably due to concentration on doing a technique right, often are way too grabby. This is also not good technique, and annoying for uke. Sensei is also fluid. When he does a technique, it is not broken up or especially emphasized in one aspect (unless he is trying to show something specific). His move is one fluid motion. When learning a technique, we may often stop, make it choppy, or over emphasize one part. This is part of the learning process and necessary to an extent, but I try not to do it so much when I come to class and rather make each technique one fluid motion.

Sensei will point something out if it's done wrong or can be improved, but he doesn't nag. If he commented on every mistake that happened in his dojo, he wouldn't stop talking. So I see sensei watching students and going through ukemi, and I've identified a very specific look on his face. A face probably accompanied by the thoughts, "I wish they'd just relax, stop being so grabby, and do the whole technique."

90% of my efforts in aikido class are based on getting the opposite reaction out of my sensei. It's a very slight nod and an short utterance of "OK."

You Don't Know Basho

2011-11-01T00:31:00.000+09:00

And niether do I.

In fact, I probably know a lot less about Basho than a lot of the readers. But I know enough about him to know that he's got way better stories than the haiku he produced; those writings that made him one of the most famous figures of Japanese culture. What we read are jewels of art that have been remarkably preserved and elaborated by other people on the path. By reading his work, and indulging in such imaginative exploration, we are taking part in his life, and everything in the universe at the same time, but while we endeavor, holding his name to ourself, we are doing something else. It is no longer the man that lived named, Basho. At least that is what I've done; guilty and fortunate enough to have woven my own fantasy which is arguably real. It is the unexplainable and truly unbelievable dichotomy of life that Zen Buddhism focuses upon, and while I am fascinated more by the products of this religion above all else, I continually forget the physical truth of existence of these seeming freaks of synthesis created by the unfathomable. Is Basho perfect? Ideal? Something to be thought of with a genuine smile?

Are you not yourself?

Our own tragic death, or worse, our own betrayals are all part of everyone's mutual enlightenment.

Tonight what Basho never said is much more interesting to me than what he ever did, and I don't even know the dude. This strikes my heart more than most of the things happening in my daily life. What strange creatures we are. I am growing weary of the puritanical crusades which alienate myself from those things in my life that are burning next to the fire, suffering from my neglect. And yet returning requires me to throw others in as much to perish: execution. The world is a burning fire of sacrifice. Some seek to extinguish the fire, but that said so plainly is just the same. It's all sacrifice. What's the difference?

A lot of you are martial artists, I bet you have a good idea ...

how about intent.

What kind of intent gets you through a technique?

Conviction.

Wow, I've already gone too far. That last string of words sends a chill down my back, as if conviction alone is enough to condone our activity. Obviously there are a lot of other factors involved like sensitivity and knowledge and compassion. But even with such enlightened characteristics, in the end, aren't we just following our conviction? If not, what is left?

Fear.

Ha, I just can't see past two shades. You see what I have to deal with?

I've thought a lot, and not thought a lot, and this is what comes out. Maybe some good advice would be just to relax and live life. Fine, I'll go to sleep. But I'm probably going to think of this again.

Sensei tells me he's still learning, though he's never said this before. I still don't get it. My ignorance is so goddamn persistent, not unlike my oribobo wild boar figurine I have recently welcomed into my house. He stands there over his pile of gold, tusks and hair and all. No words will move him ...

but maybe a treat would? Some kind of" skillful means" perhaps ...

... a female maybe ... ?

Thanks Dainin!

2011-10-27T14:13:00.001+09:00

I have just finished reading Dainin Katagiri's book on zen called, "Each Moment is the Universe." In the second to the last chapter, I read an incredible passage that seems very relevant to me as I feel like I've been living in the Apocalypse lately. Maybe you will find it interesting as well.

"When I think of my life, I realize there are many things I haven't done yet. In Buddhism it is said that there are eighteen thousand scriptures. Can you read eighteen thousand scriptures in one lifetime? Well, I became a priest at the age of eighteen, but there are many scriptures I still haven't read. My mind says that I want to do it, but practically speaking, I don't do it. In my lifetime I cannot finish all the things I want to do.

No matter how long you life, you cannot satisfy all your desires. Your lifetime is not long enough. So I think you should have a next life. You should practice and study now but leave the unfinished job for your next life. In your next life you will see lots of unfinished jobs too. So carry them to your life after the next life. Then you feel relief. If you try to finish everything in this lifetime, you become nervous, irritated, and uneasy. I don't mean that you can be lazy. Of course you should study Buddhism and practice zazen, because you have to understand the human life that is going on forever, moment after moment, life after life."

Have you ever had a deadline that had to be met, and if you just had one extra week, it would make everything a lot more pleasant, relaxed, and allow you to make your product better? How about another lifetime? What about all of your goals and the anxiety you have in your life considering you may not achieve those goals? What if you had a whole nother life to carry these on? How about all of eternity?

One of my goals is to be fluent in Japanese. So how about I don't become fluent in this lifetime, but become a Japanese person in my next lifetime? Hooray! I did it! Instant fluency. But that's not what I want. Because then I would just be a normal Japanese person, and would probably want to learn English even more than I want to learn Japanese as an American. What I really want is to be fluent in Japanese right now! But that's not the case, so that's a pretty silly desire. I don't want to be fluent in Japanese just because I'm a Japanese person and any normal Japanese person can speak Japanese. I don't even want to be fluent in Japanese when I'm old, because that just means I spent so much fricken time practicing it and I'll just be an old Japanese-speaker. I want to be fluent in Japanese right now because that would be cool! But again, not the case. You know what's really cool? My situation right now striving to become fluent in Japanese as a goofy white dude and the experiences I have on this quest. But I don't really appreciate that very often.

Apparently the issue is not being fluent in Japanese, but something else much deeper ...

If some form of reincarnation does occur, I think it would be that "something else deeper" issue as opposed to the Japanese language concern. So when I die, if the above scenario of being born a Japanese person occurs, it wouldn't surprise me at all.

What would carry on through our lives? What would not? I think it would be the deep issues of concern or psychological tendencies that would carry on, but the specifics and details of our specific situations that would die off and change. Does this mean that our deeper issues are more important because they are the ones that last? Perhaps, but I can't help but think the opposite here: it is precisely those things that are fading, those things that we will never be able to experience again, which are so precious. I have all of eternity ... or more accurately ... as long as it fricken takes to get over the things we need to get over, so there's no need to worry about it happening. It either will or won't. Personally, I would like to get my head out of this dungeon of spiritual angst concerning the dragons that will chase me into my afterlife, and rather appreciate that I'm typing for this blog and I have plenty of time on this sunny day to get to work and do a great job because I want to be a good teacher and the students are young kids who want to have fun. Me making mistakes or one of the kids being a little punk are much less frustrating than they are the beautiful process of the universe ... but again, I don't appreciate this very often; I usually feel like saying really mean things to that kid and feeling bad because of my failings as a teacher and the ignorance of masses of the world who don't spend time trying to understand their lives through Zen Buddhism and Aikido, and how they rather throw bouncy balls at each other in the middle of class when they're supposed to say the target phrase of the day.

So thanks Dainin, for writing this piece in your book which helps me understand myself and the universe just a little better. The book by the way is one of my favorite books I've read about zen and recommend it to everybody, so check it out.

My Beef with Taosim

2011-10-23T17:44:00.000+09:00

Here is the newest edition to my developing abode. As I was walking to aikido one night, I passed a used antique-esque store and found this small-medium sized something which pulled me into a kind of vortex. I picked it up and paid the 500 yen convinced that I had just made a huge score with a small price. But it's more than just a decoration. From the moment I saw it, I've felt an extraordinary connection that borderlines some kind of idol worship. It's all unexplainable for me right now, but this wild boar figure and I will be going through this winter together. You could call him a kind of mascot, but that's too limiting.

My beef with Taosim is that it has way too many systems. "Huh?!" You shriek in utter amazement that such a phrase could be used to describe the philosophy that rejects the concept of systems altogether. I suppose I have confused myself as to what exactly I'm talking about again. Maybe I mean that the practices that rely on Taoist theory are too ... too something. Too much? Too complex? Well, that just makes me a whiner. An American baby who wants the satiation of my spiritual angst to be given in one free guaranteed swoop of comfort ... right now and forevermore.

I look to Taoism for inspiration, and so I read about traditional Chinese medicine, martial arts, meditation, diet, and cosmology. It's damned interesting, but I continually find myself stuck in an idealistic philosophy where all of these must converge on the highest level in order to reap the benefits. What benefits? Perhaps this is my problem. Somewhere after I am motivated by interest, it becomes obsession, and there arises something that I want. Until I am a skilled practitioner in all of these fields considering Taosim, I feel I am a waste. Then I'm back in the mud with all of my peers who I subcionsciously seek to separate myself from. In some philosophies, we are advised to cultivate emptiness. From that void, what arises is our true character. Is this conglomeration of obsession and competition and need the true character of my spirit? Am I misreading the signs and texts? The result of this is fear. My exploration of Taoism often agitates this psychological tendency of mine.

Various interpretations of Buddhism will do the same for me as well; requiring high levels of purity and perfection and abstention in order to realize one's life. I just can't understand the "why"s and "how"s of it all anymore. It's like a glass palace in the sky. The fear of it shattering render me sterile.

Perhaps I'm too deep in the woods to see above the treeline.

And so I walk with my oribobo. (When I bought the small statue, one of the girls at aikido said I should call it oribobo. But then I showed it to my girlfriend and she said it was usually a name for something smaller and cuter. I mentioned the name again to the aikido girl, and she corrected me with the name, but I don't remember what it is. So, until I find out what I'm really supposed to call it, it will remain oribobo, a name I've gotten used to and find it quite fitting. Apologies to any Japanese proficient readers who recognize clearly my stupid gaijin mistake.)

I walk through the woods with my oribobo. Everyday we forage for food and search out adventure. It's a quiet companionship, but I like that. We have no home to return to, so it's always onward down the path, wherever we may find that weakest part in the grass which delineates our direction. Need is determined by necessity. Thoughts vanish quickly if the environment calls for attention. The next meal isn't worried over, because if we die, then we're just dead, and won't need to eat anyway.

I'm not sure about that crystalline palace in the sky, but I'm not going to try to look for it anymore. Maybe one day I'll see it again. Maybe the forest will burn down. Maybe I'll eventually find myself in the plains. But down here in the woods, it's just me and my oribobo.

"Does it work?" Part II: Your system is weak and dying

2011-10-21T00:45:00.000+09:00

The foliage here in Toyama is particularly lush. The rivers are particularly full. Things feel very thick. It is a complete ecosystem, full of everything it needs to expand and contract appropriately with the seasons. And yet, it doesn't have everything in the world. It is a "complete system" of the world, but it doesn't contain deserts, the highest mountains, tropical beaches, or elephants. How can it not have "every" phenomenon the planet has to offer, and yet be complete?

Many modern martial artists yearn to have a "complete" arsenal and understanding of the martial arts, so people idealize about being a grandmaster in literally every style ... mastering every technique known to man and nature. Surely this isn't just a modern trend, every martial artist has surely pondered this matter at some point. But in today's world we are provided the illusion that it is possible to do so. We can study the different styles and master different approaches; the kicking of tae kwon do, the softness of tai chi chuan, the striking of karate, boxing, groundfighting and grappling in bjj. Theoretically if we were to be black belts in each of these, we could have everything. We could have Mt. Everest right next to Costa Rican beaches with rainbows shooting up from 8 foot walls of powder snow, with lions and polar bears sitting next to each other drinking Sierra Nevada Pale Ales.

That is strange. There are philosophies in the world that embrace the idea that we can be one and everything at the same time, but I think this is different. I don't want some freak of a zoo of martial techniques to convince me I can do everything.

I can't do everything.

Personally, I'm not so tall and have relatively short legs. I will never be nearly as "good of a kicker" as others better physically built for such activities and who have spent the time training so. But that's a farce of an idea anyway, because what defines "better kicking"? Perhaps I won't have the range or strength or speed of another, but if I have better timing, and my kicks hit when others' don't, then mine are "better" right? That's not specifically tae kwon do, or the "best style" of kicking, but it wins.

Nature is composed of seemingly separate but complete and interconnected self-sustaining systems. We can easily find a kind of perfection in this. Mankind's buildings and contraptions are different. Leave civilization be and it will deteriorate and eventually disappear into nature, which will keep thriving. Actually, I'm not so naieve as to push this analogy the whole way through, because there are holes. But the general point it is, there is a huge difference between "nature" and mankind's constructions, and the limitations of the latter are staggering in comparison ... in my opinion.

What are our martial art systems like? When we say that we want to have or embody a "complete" system, what do we mean? Do we mean being "masters" of every martial art ever mentioned, more like my analogy of Mt. Everest on a beach, or a complete system more like that of the wilderness of Toyama? Tai chi chuan can be considered a "complete" system, and yet it doesn't seem to have the same advantages as some other "complete systems", which in turn have aspects that tai chi chuan does better. To some extent, I would say that there are things we could call "complete" martial art systems that stand similar to the different ecosystems of the world. Each contains enough of everything to survive and flourish, and yet don't have "everything" in the world.

But we still run into a problem here; the issue of man's logical tweaking and design. This is lessened by the influence of many instead of one, a vast range of generations instead of one moment, and the employment of intuitive motion instead of purely calculated design ... and yet it's still limited, as a system. There are differences between one man who has practiced for a year in ten different styles and set up his "Rex-kwon-do" dojo in some stripmall, and a man who practices a style like tai chi chuan that has been developed for centuries in local traditions, but they still stink with a name. Our systems will always be in the realm of the design of name. As long as the system has a name, it has a limitation. As long as the system has a thought, it will die. Take humans out of the situation, systems don't exist.

Is it possible to be nature instead of a system? Can we be something even if we don't exist? Can we be ourselves, and yet be like a particular ecosystem, and thusly be complete? If there is thought, it is not it.

It's not just Mt. Everest and beaches, lions and polar bears, rainbows and snow. Perhaps we could trap all of these in our laboratory, everything science has ever tested ... and yet we will never ever know if we have it all ... because we are thusly limited by our thought and apparatus. It is an illusion. Our thoughts are illusions. They are dying pictures, and so are dead.

My body has limitations. My experience has limitations. I will die. And yet, I am everything; infinite and invincible. But I will die.

...

Why do I practice the martial arts?

To realize a relaxed spirit.

Why do I desire to have a relaxed spirit?

Because everything happens in that flow of relaxation, and the feeling is good.

When this is experienced, it doesn't need an explanation. It doesn't need blackbelts in every style. It doesn't need to be able to dominate everything physically. It doesn't need to be worshipped.

It just is.

"Does it work?"

2011-10-20T00:14:00.000+09:00

This is HUGE!

We spend all this time practicing martial arts - no wait - anything, any hobby! But I'm going to talk about this in the context of martial arts right now because it can be a particularly judgemental arena on such matters. SO! We spend all this time practicing martial arts; punching and kicking the air, throwing each other around, dressing up in strange clothing, paying large amounts of money, occupying our incredibley precious free time ... for what?! Well, many people do it because "it works."

What the hell does that mean?

Well, it means many different things, depending on what "it's" working for. Lets simplify and specify this a little more. Let's say the point of martial arts is to be martially proficient: fighting, defending yourself, or controlling others' bodies. If a technique works, then it's a good technique, and was worth spending the time to learn, practice, and ingrain. BUT HOW DO YOU KNOW IT WORKS!?!?!? Some people go out looking for fights to practice techniques, and however much I may negatively judge that approach because I wouldn't ever do it myself, you gotta admit that's a pretty good way to check if a technique works or not. But what about for the rest of us? Because you have your buddies give certain fake (no matter how well your friend simulates the attack, it is never the real thing without intent) attack, you think that's battle-testing it? I would never contemplate a defense against an attack if it came, #1 because I probably wouldn't have the time or peace of mind to do so, and #2, because my natural reaction, no matter how much it may violate the ideals of stances or balances, will do a better job because of my conviction and instincts rather than a contemplated technique.

Anyway, I think I'm getting a little off track. This whole question and realization actually started in the context of iaido. Just the other day I found an extremely interesting flier about iaido (the art of drawing the sword, generally) in Toyama. It actually looks like it's part of a big organization called, "International Batto-do Shizan Association Ryuseiken." (So if any of you have any stories or opinions on this, PLEASE let me know because I want to get as much information as I can in case I decide to join.) Anyway, I've always wanted to try iaido, and I've talked a lot with my aikido sensei about iaido because he happens to be a third degree blackbelt. He's practiced in Toyama, and maybe even with this particular group. I'm not sure, I'll ask soon. But the problem is, he says there are a lot of contradictions between iaido and aikido, and that it can really end up being a minus for each other to practice them both, at least in his experience. For example, do you swing a sword with your hips straight ahead or tilted at a 45 degree angle? This is really important if it's the most basic of concepts you're trying to incorporate into your body's subconcious reactions. Moreover, he mentioned that a lot of iaido schools are supported by kendo practitioners, who practice iaido to get a better sense of using a "real" sword in "real" situations, but that the iaido gets manipulated and changed to better serve the kendoka. This is a real turn off for me.

So I was thinking about practicing iaido, and judging for myself whether the techniques were good or not. Well, what's the criteria?

"Does it work?"

"DOES IT WORK?!?!?!"

What do you mean!? The "purpose" of using a sword is to cut and kill people ... I will never cut people!!! Never say never, I know ... but seriously, I'm way more likely to try and kill someone with a bad joke than a sword (you dead yet?).

Do you see where this is going?

If "working" iaido is the kind that enables me to cut someone in half with a traditional Japanese sword, that's a pretty fricken worthless skill isn't it? Or at least more worthless than learning how to kill people with jokes, which is a better technique based on the fact you spend less time around a traditional Japanese sword than you are able to tell a joke. Furthermore, for empty handed techniques, if the sole purpose of "working" emtpy handed martial arts is to be physically invincible, then I'd say you're spending way too much time on this task when you should just get a gun or ... oh my god, how about this ... how about you train your awareness so you can avoid danger before it engages you physically?

So, if you follow my logic, the purpose of practicing martial arts lies outside mere physical abilities in martial activities. I just watched an interview of Tim Cartmell (a prominent figure in modern martial arts particularly in the arenas of TCMA and BJJ) provided by a certain dojo rat where he is asked various questions about his opinions on the martial arts, and guess what, the question of "why do we practice the martial arts" came up. His answer? Self-cultivation. A person can acquire in a pretty short amount of time a good enough arsenal to protect them in the majority of physical altercations. So why then, do so many people stay at it? There's something else. Tim Cartmell labels it "self cultivation". In a book I'm reading now about qigong, "The Way of Qigong: the Art and Science of Chinese Energy Healing" written by Kenneth S. Cohen, there is a very memorable quote that states, "The purpose of practicing tai chi chuan is to have a relaxed spirit." A fairly simple idea, but how many people physically realize this? Lately, this has been the most recurring idea in my mind, and one that lies at the center of this issue.

In addition to the many wonderful physical benefits, a lot of which include martial phenomenon despite my peaceful agenda, the primary reason why I practice martial arts is to have a relaxed spirit. Self-cultivation is part of it, and actually, may be bigger than merely having a relaxed spirit, but for some reason that quote is too relevant to me right now. The number one reason why I put all this time and energy and thought into practicing martial arts is to have a relaxed spirit.

So now here comes the big question:

"Does it work?"

Toyama City

2011-10-19T00:47:00.000+09:00

This is where I live: Toyama City. Since I won't be going to aikido nearly as much as I used to, I will probably be writing a lot more about this very strange and interesting place I live in. That being the case, perhaps an informal introduction to the place would be a good way to start.

There it is! Right exactly in the middle of it all. Well almost. Actually, I'm pretty sure the geographical center of Japan is located in the prefecture south of Toyama, Gifu. But anyway, Toyama belongs to that green region on the map which is usually called Chubu, central Japan.

Here's a little closer look at Chubu. To get a little more specific, Toyama belongs to the Hokuriku region which is comprised of the prefectures in central Japan that are located on the Sea of Japan. Starting from the left of the picture, Fukui, Ishikawa, Toyama, and Niigata (kind of a swing prefecture that is sometimes considered Hokuriku and sometimes not.)

Here's the prefecture itself. Homely don't you think? Enclosed by other prefectures except for one side which is the Toyama Bay. The blue line going from left to right is the main JR railway. Basically, to the south and east of it mountains rise like a giant wall cutting Toyama off from the other side of Japan. Though there is one train line that goes south right through the center of the prefecture and into Gifu towards Takayama and eventually reaching Nagoya. For two years I lived in Kurobe City, which is located at the top right section of the Toyama Bay just before the coastline starts running to the east. In Kurobe if you go to the beach, you're pointed west looking across the prefecture and the bottom of the Noto Penninsula of Ishikawa. Kurobe is a small to medium sized town located conveniently next to great access points to the mountains for biking, and close to Niigata prefecture for snowboarding. But now I have moved to Toyama City (which is usually just referred to as "Toyama", which I may do as well, please excuse the confusion), the capital of the prefecture located directly in the center of the map around the railways.

And here is my humble abode, an average size mansion (apartment) located on the 7th floor. No three tatami room palace like I had in Kurobe, but for Toyama it's a good setup. Other rooms in the complex face brick walls and are smaller in size. Mine at least is one the 7th floor providing an interesting view with a river famous for cherry blossoms just below. It's taken me a while to get used to it, but it's starting to feel like home. Except one thing ... the sinks stink. I've poured drain cleaner down them, have air fresheners, but it still lingers. I'm contemplating the next step ... recommendations for dealing with putrid drains would be GREATLY WELCOMED!

Ja JAA! My balcony view. That portion of the road you see is actually a bridge, and the greenery on either side are the cherry blossom trees that line the river below. If you follow this road to the left for a fifteen minute walk you'll arrive at the train station. This is a pretty ideal location for a bum gaijin with no car. At night you only hear the bugs and the wind; thanks Toyama for really not being that big of a city. However, from the morning on, the thundering blundering of the street car which runs on that street is heard every five minutes or so. Oh well. I'm trying to wake up earlier anway.

Another benefit of my location is I'm right next to Toyama Castle. It doesn't have the fame of Osaka or Himeji, but it certainly adds to the charm of the city.

The funny thing about living in Toyama now, is that for the two years I lived in Kurobe I dismissed the city as the biggest waste of time and space in the prefecture. The proximity of the ocean and mountains offer some amazing things particular to Toyama Prefecture, but Toyama City? It seemed just a grey sprawl in the center of the prefecture. To live in the city, separated so from the natural wonders was inconceivable. And yet, here I live, right in the center of it. But you know what, it's better this way. I have a special affinity for western Toyama inaka country towns, and I actually do most of my work there, commuting to Kurobe and its neighboring towns of Uozu and Nyuzen three weeks out of the month. But for living? I have a lot more options and inspirations here in this strange city. Strange because of its seeming incongruities; a phenomenon that is applicable to Japan as a whole.

Anyway, I look forward to doing experiments in the city in order to more fully understand it's constitution and direction. Maybe you can learn more about it or your own home in the process as well.

Assaulting the Japanese Language

2011-10-17T15:11:00.000+09:00

Perhaps the title was a little strong, (a product of more metal in the itunes playlist maybe) but it actually fits my mood concerning the issue pretty accurately. I majored in Japanese language at university, and have lived here in Japan for almost two years, but am continually appalled at how inadequately I can express myself and how far I still am from reading Japanese texts. Hands down and a round of applause to all those people who can just live in a country for a year or two and become fluent by just "picking it up", but that ain't me. If I'm going to become fluent in this language, it's going to take a well calculated mass conquering strategy operating on all fronts in all terrain. Time to move to the next stage of Gaijin's invasion of Japan!

I contemplated taking Japanese classes in order to give this aspiration some kind of tangible form, but that seems absolutley ridiculous to me. I have stacks of Japanese textbooks to study from and Japanese friends to consult with questions. Tens of thousands of dollars were already put into a college education, so throwing more money at the problem isn't the answer either. Besides, if I'm looking for a class to support my system of discipline, then I should take a better look at the two things which interest me most in the world: martial arts and zen. The core of these two entities are qualities of self-responsiblity and self-empowerment. I know that I can pack a lot more learning that is directly applicable to me in one hour of self study than going to a class for the same amount of time. If this is something I really want to do, then I can devote that bit of time everyday to it's cultivation. So anyway, I'm pretty well set on that.

One hour a day; three 20 minute sections.

Section 1: 20 minutes reading through old textbooks reviewing grammar. This is invaluable. After two years, I'm conversational, and I've internalized a lot of the nuances and casual phrases necessary for a flowing comfortable conversation, but I know I'm misusing a lot of the particles and grammatical structures, making me communicative, but extremely gaijin. As an English teacher, I can see a HUGE difference in those who can use the correct grammatical structure versus those who continue to speak their own strange internalized version of the language. Even the simplest grammatical structures, I still mix and match a bit, so it's time to clean that up. This is addressing the cognitive and critical side of my learning.

Section 2: 20 minutes memorizing and mimicking Japanese sentences. A set of textbooks I received while teaching with JET presents particular grammatical points and accompanies them with about ten different phrases, and so in this section of my learning, what I do is I read these and memorize each sentence until I can say each one five times in a row from memory. This is to incorporate the subconscious learning from repeating and mimicking. I do this all the time in daily life by listening to the Japanese spoken around me, but I really feel like I need it written in front of me to totally understand. Listening to Japanese has made me a great listener, but I really need to see this stuff. In my job we focus on tailoring lessons to different learning styles; simply, 1.) auditory, 2.) visual, and 3.) kinesthetic. We all have different ways we assimilate information and often times our preffered method is some combination of these. For me personally, I'm definitely a kinesthetic learner, which may be why I'm so inclined to the martial arts. Give me body movement with something I need to learn, and I'll get it quick. A lot of my language assimilation has happened in aikido because movements are always incorporated with movement. Next for me is visual. If I can see the language that's being used then I am way better off, which is probably why my weakest part is listening. Have you ever played that language game where you listen to a paragraph of what someone said and repeat as much as you can from memory? I am the worst; borderline handicap if you ask me. Just listening is not enough for me. So, in this method of practice, by reading and repeating various sentences, I am internalizing proper Japanese by reading, repeating, and hearing myself ... and as a kinesthetic learner I try to incorporate as much gesturing as possible. One interesting trick to this part is that I'm usually struggling by trying to practice a difficult or new grammar point, but the whole while, what's really being internalized are all those particles and simpler grammar forms that I know pretty well, but have yet to really ingrain in my subconscious.

Section 3: 20 minutes kanji writing practice. This is arguably the most frustrating part of the language. The Japanese uses three different alphabets: hiragana, katakana, and kanji. Hiragana is composed of forty six characters, and is relatively simple. Katakana is another forty six character alphabet, but very similar to hiragana. Learning these two is not too difficult. They are phonetic and can be memorized in a couple weeks. I did it a long time ago in the first term of Japanese class in college. But kanji are 1,945 Chinese characters that are used in Japanese language. This is what I'm struggling with. We studied this in college, but I never made much of an effort to seriously learning them, so it was largely a memorize and regurgitative process. Being in Japan I've gone through a couple phases of seriously studying kanji, which did help, but it's always been random and infrequent, so I've again forgotten a lot of what I've learned. And again, just being here and seeing it is just not enough ... for me at least. So, what I'm doing is going through kanji in a textbook I have, making flash cards, and practicing writing them down. I'm not really sure how good of a practice this is though. The problem is that I'm not directly relating it to any other aspect of the Japanese language, and am still going about it in a relatively random and chaotic manner. The good thing is I'm being exposed to a lot of kanji and processing them through writing, which is something I want. One can learn to read a lot faster than you can learn to write, but if you learn to write it ... you can write! That's what I want.

So, as briefly as I can explain it, that is the skeleton of my plan to conquer Japanese. But it's not enough. There are two more aspects that are necessary for it to fit my ideal of self-education.

First, which goes with the kanji practice, is reading manga (Japanese comic books). If I want to read Japanese, then I have to practice reading Japanese right? There are tens or maybe hundreds of thousands of interesting manga out there, which I am more than enthusiastic about reading, and by reading manga, I can practice reading kanji as well as reading casual conversation through the dialogue. But I'm having some real trouble getting started. There are two different ways to go about this. Some manga, which are often more directed towards kids (which are still incredibly relevant and interesting to adults, a huge difference between Japanese and American comics and animation) have the hiragana characters for all of the kanji. With this, I can read everything and can look up the words I don't know in a dictionary. Two problems though, are going through paper dictionaries which take up a lot of space and time, and always looking at the hiragana translations instead of the kanji. The other option is reading books with only the kanji, which is more difficult, but in the long run will teach me kanji faster and more efficiently(?) The big problem with this, again, is the dictionary. It takes a lot longer, and requires a lot more energy to look up the kanji than regular words. So, in an attempt to have a casual time of enjoyably reading Japanese through the medium of manga, I'm spending my whole time leafing through giant dictionaries. I'm sure already some of you have already began to think of a solution while reading this entry, but the big answer to this problem of dictionaries can probably be found in technology. I've heard that for the Nintendo DS, they have a kanji dictionary where you can just begin writing the kanji in the correct stroke order and you'll get the word ... which would be a giant answer to my question. But do I really want to throw down the cash for a DS, one that will inevitably be a huge distraction for someone like me who has a natural affinity for video games? There are also loads of electronic dictionaries, but I haven't come into contact with one thats really good for processing the kanji. Another answer could be found in an iphone app. I'm not really sure about this, but there's got to be an app for looking up kanji right?

This is probably a fairly simple problem to fix. I could probably fork over the cash for either a DS, electronic dictionary, or an iphone and be on my way to faster language acquisition ... but it seems like a huge technological boundary for me. Maybe I need to just go cry about it for a minute, think about all the money I throw at beer, and just accept I need to upgrade this part of my life in technology and spend a little less money on those things that aren't so important.

OK, last issue with my Japanese invasion plan: review. In my study, I'm going through a lot of grammar structures, vocabularly, and kanji, and I love learning new things, but if I don't review, I'll lose it. This has been my biggest problem in studying Japanese from the beginning. I need to devote some time to this, but reviewing flash cards while on trains or waiting in lines has never worked. It just becomes a fat stack of something I always have to do sitting in my pocket wherever I go. So do I add another 20 minute section to my routine??? I think I max out at an hour of hardcore textbook, flash card learning a day.

I've been operating on this plan for about a month at maybe 70%, due to the fact I'm still getting acclimatized to my new life and schedule, but I'm already feeling the benefits. Perhaps the bugs will naturally work themselves out as I go along ... but that kind of thinking is not really what I'm going for. In this routine I'm setting up, I'm attempting to use my discipline and concsious cognitive workings at a maximum level. I want this language and I want it as soon as possible.

Once I get it, I will now longer be thrashing around in the water struggling to stay afloat, but will gracefully swim along, eventually by a boat, and be a pirate sailing gloriously across the Sea of Japan!

PLEASE post if you have any methods or recommendations for my studying of Japanese.

Zacky Chan Version 3.0

2011-10-13T22:55:00.001+09:00

The mountains are my body,
the clouds are my thoughts.

How's that for wisdom? When I took these pictures it was a real "Whooaaaaa ... duuuuddde." moment for me.

I've been foibled by the blogging gods over and over again trying to put a first entry in over the past couple days, and so now you're getting a very very condensed version of what I imagined. Screw it, look at these interesting pictures I took on a week-long hiking trip from Tateyama in Toyama Prefecture to Kamikochi in Nagano, drink your preffered blog-reading-beverage, and read some ramblings about my recent transitions and thoughts on martial arts.

First off, I have left my old job working as an assistant language teacher with the JET Program at Sakurai High School in mid-smalltown Kurobe to be a children's eikaiwa (English conversation school) teacher for Peppy's Kids Club in small city Toyama City. This means I moved from the rice paddies to the grey concrete blur to work for less pay and reduced vacations for a job that's 100x more challenging ... oh yeah, and I work nights so I get to go to aikido once a week maybe instead of three to four. But things couldn't be better!!! They also couldn't be worse. That's just the nature of existence, there is only the now, right?

But seriously, everything is just mountains and clouds.

And here's my friend.

And his friend. They were cool and liked to drink beer. They saved me from realizing my week of "purity" and bought me a very expensive tallboy Asahi from one of the mountain huts.

Anyway, everything is different now.

The old thoughts aren't interesting anymore, the don't make sense anymore, the images, the smells, my clothes even, it's all dead history.

The beautiful thing about the New, is that you can't really expect what it will be, and if it really is new, it will be accompanied by new feelings. This is really how you know something is new. It's that easy! You just do it! Right?

Well, not ... really. Our mind, the tool that it can be, categorizes and starts inserting all kinds of opinions on the matter ... which becomes more your habits and tendencies than that new experience itself. For example, your at a festival seeing something you've never seen before and it's great with all these new feelings, but then you start to think ... which is stupid ... "Oh, I know how to make this better" or "I know what this is" or you say some stupid joke that is half-relevant you heard but your friends probably haven't. If this occurs long enough without being checked, then you'll just have a long history of you masturbating all over these passed up new chances. And that's not all that cool.

There's got to be a better way.

Most likely, between the abstract polarities, you find yourself in your specific situation, which is amazing and completely independent and new in and of itself. So, let's get specific here. Concerning this blog, and myself, I will be writing about being an American living in Japan, because that's what I am, Zen and Taoism and mythology because that's what I'm interested in, teaching foreign language, because that's what I spend a lot of my time doing, and then of course, like a giant masterpiece standing in the center of my grand cathedral, exists ... martial arts ...

What an extremely difficult thing to describe.

A lot of my time is spent on this topic of "martial arts", and I think that goes for a lot of readers here too. It is a beautiful kaleidescopic mandala we form together at "martial artists", with all different kinds of styles and beliefs and directions and histories ... including all our brothers and sisters in the past who punched the air and moved around through imaginary opponents and liked it. One of the particularly interesting things about the "martial arts" that I like to think about is the timelessness of it all. Someone centuries ago may have been doing these same movements and thinking these same things. In a way, we can excuse ourselves from the modern world by engaging in such activity, which is cool! But we do exist now, and are an integral part of the modern world of October 2011. In this respect, we have some very interesting trends in the "martial arts." (I hope the quotations aren't bugging you, because I must persist until the end of this entry).

We have UFC cage fighting featuring mixed "martial artists", and people practicing "martial arts" who have never encountered violence in their life. The great disparity between "martial artists" leads us to one very big question:

"What are the Martial Arts!"

And then we have the emergenceof the blogosphere, an electronic voice translated through 0's and 1's given to all with access to a computer with an internet connection.

So let's get talking!

Well, actually that might be enough for now. We certainly don't need to solve the Problem right here an now. Rather, let's discuss over months or years of snipits of discussion. We're so very far from the end anyway.

If I could make one last comment though ...

Recently, there has been great debate over what constitutes a "martial artist." A lot of the people I tend to side with, but don't totally agree with, accuse some of not embracing the "artist" side of the equation. For example, UFC fighters are only just that, and can not be considered "martial artists". But lately I've been looking at the other side of the phrase. I'm comfortable calling myself and artist in my practice ... but martial? Am I martial? Are you?

It's all just mountains and clouds ... and flowers.

I happily look forward to more conversations with you all. Thank you for reading.

Gone Until September

2011-08-01T15:58:00.003+09:00

Relatively. Tomorrow is my last day teaching at high school in Japan and I will finish my term with the JET Program. I have already moved out of my apartment and am now staying at a friend's house until late August when I go to Nagoya for a two week teacher training course. THEN, I will finally be in a permanent place of living I can temporarily call my own. So, I probably won't be making any posts until sometime in early-mid September. I guess I'm writing this to let people know I haven't just dropped off the side of the blogging scene never to return, and they should check back in September for new posts.

This is all very strange and I admit I'm feeling very adverse to a lot of the changes happening in this transition now. For the next three weeks I won't have work and will be staying with friends. But how could I complain? Isn't that awesome? And then I go to teacher training for two weeks, which will surely have some annoying or boring points, but I doubt it will really be difficult, and will be in a city I've never been before. Isn't that awesome too? For someone who always talks up "changes", "transitions", and "the Unknown", I'm feeling a bit like a baby with all this. All I really want to do is be in my apartment and in a schedule were I can regularly begin projects of martial arts and writing as well as whatever new studies come into my life. I'm really good at making new big plans, and even carrying them out with the proper amount of discipline when it counts, but the waiting time is a whole different matter ... but the idea is it's not really "waiting" is it. What is waiting anyway? Since were always doing something, even if it's waiting for something, to generally state we're in a time of waiting is a bit inaccurate and just leads to people not seeing the moment so clearly. Maybe it's all semantics. Maybe there's nothing at all.

I did see a cool movie last night though featuring one of the best martial arts movie super stars of our age, Tony Jaa in "Ong Bak 3". Since I rented it in Japan, there was no English dubbing or subtitles, but I couldn't think of a better movie that didn't need dialogue. Seriously, I would say about 20 minutes of the hour and a half movie were used for dialogue. The rest were usually 10-15 minute fight scenes that were generally awesome. So, get some beer and check it out with some of your budo buddies.

Anyway, I look forward to posting regularly in September, and will do my best to survive the summer madness.

Shunryu Suzuki's Aikido

2011-07-25T13:22:00.004+09:00

"It is necessary for us to keep the constant way. Zen is not some kind of excitement, but concentration on our usual everyday routine. If you become too busy and too excited, your mind becomes rough and ragged. This is not good. If possible, try to be always calm and joyful and keep yourself from excitement. Usually we become busier and busier, day by day, year by year, especially in our modern world. If we revisit old, familiar places after a long time, we are astonished by the changes. It cannot be helped. But if we become interested in some excitement, or in our own change, we will become completely involved in our busy life, and we will be lost. But if your mind is calm and constant, you can keep yourself away from the noisy world even though you are in the midst of it. In the midst of noise and change, your mind will be quiet and stable.

Zen is not something to get excited about. Some people start to practice Zen just out of curiousity, and they only make themselves busier. If your practice makes you worse, it is ridiculous. I think that if you try to do zazen once a week, that will make you busy enough. Do not be too interested in Zen. When young people get excited about Zen they often give up schooling and go to some mountain or forest in order to sit. That kind of interest is not true interest.

Just continue in your calm, ordinary practice and your character will be built up. If your mind is always busy there will be no time to build, and you will not be successful, particularly if you work too hard on it. Building character is like making bread - you have to mix it little by little, step by step, and moderate temperature is needed. You know yourself quite well, and you know how much temperature you need. You know exactly what you need. But if you get too excited, you will forget how much temperature is good for you, and you will lose your own way. This is very dangerous."

These are the words of Shunryu Suzuki (1905-1971), a Japanese Zen teacher who started the Zen Center in San Francisco. This quote is from the book, "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind" which was generated by a series of talks given to his students. To be honest, this isn't the exact quote I was looking for, but I think it suffices to reveal my thoughts on the topic: If Shunryu Suzuki was an aikido teacher, I think this is the kind of aikido he would preach. This is also what my own Sensei is always saying, without saying it. This is the kind of aikido I want to practice.

I think this is particularly interesting because to downplay enthusiasm for students of aikido, particularly those of young Americans, is to kill a lot of motivation. But is that motivation honest? Perhaps, but in my opinion it seems misguided.

"But Sensei, isn't the point of aikido to get better at aikido?"

"Not really."

"So our goal is to not get better at aikido."

"No, of course we want to get better at aikido. That is why we practice! But it is not why I practice aikido. "

This conversation has never happened just as I wrote it, but could just as easily be made between us on a Wednesday night when we drive to the Uozu dojo.

In my most arrogant of moods, I think anyone who really cares about aikido should be an uchi-deshi (live-in student) and practicing aikido for 8 hours everyday. How anyone would get paid or get food is not the kind of question that has room in such a maelstrom of ego. What would happen if I got sick or injured? Who would build houses? Who would give company to my parents? Maybe a more serious question would be, what if you lost insterest in aikido? You would be a fool, lost, sick, worthless!

"Zen is not something to get excited about" does not mean we should not be excited about what we practice, I think. Being excited about something is a wonderful side effect of the good things in life, but to let it be the leading factor in something important in our lives will leave us open to weakness when it is not there. In practicing aikido, aren't we trying to become stronger? More consistent? More independent? Then why is it so easy to become dependent on it? I get excited about aikido very often, but if I rely on that, at any moment I am not excited my aikido is dead and I am weak.

My sensei says, do not let your aikido interfere with your daily life. If you get sick or injured from aikido, then you can't go to work. If you come to aikido during your only free time, then you won't be spending it with your family and friends.

The Point (with a capital P, I want to emphasize) is not to get better at aikido. This is obvious to even those who have no experience with aikido, like Shunryu Suzuki (actually I don't know for sure if he never practiced aikido, but I'll take the chance for the sake of this discussion). Here is a quote from Stephen King on the matter of writing:

"It starts with this: put your desk in the corner, and every time you sit down there to write, remind yourself why it isn't in the middle of the room. Life isn't a support-system for art. It's the other way around."

Every sentence of my life does not need to be accompanied by, "My name is gaijin and I practice aikido because I want to be the best in the world." No one needs to know that I practice aikido. No one needs to know it happens to be one of my favorite activities in the world. No one needs to know that it is the inspiration for a lot of my being. My aikido is revealed in every seamless aspect of my actions and non actions. I don't need aikido. I don't not need aikido. If I ever need to use my aikido, it is less my aikido and more myself. When I stare at the reality of confrontation, it is not aikido that is staring for me, it is my own eyes.

"Is Taiji Quan practice the reason for your longevity?"

"Not directly. Taiji Quan helps cultivate a relaxed spirit. Having a relaxed spirit is the secret of longevity."

-Interview with 105-year-old Taiji Quan master Wu Tu-Nan, from "the Way of Qigong."

The Point of practicing is not to get better at aikido. The Point of writing is not to get better at writing. The Point of practicing Taijiquan is not to find the secret to longevity.

There ... is ... no ... the Point,

I think.

In Search of Castles

2011-07-12T17:23:00.012+09:00

Could I call my conscious return, which was made as quickly as possible to the last place I visited in the mountains, a kind of revenge? No. Just honest obsessive curiousity. There were too many unkown side roads branching off from that seemingly dead end I found last week. What I did last time was take a road straight in one direction to my goal and return just the same. This time I would knock out both sides of the curiousity by making a loop with Kitayama, the last destination, somewhere in the beginning half of the middle. Yes. That looked pretty good from my maps.

I started just before 12pm and had to account for aikido at 7:30. Ideally, I'd have time for a meal and hour onsen just before practice which left 5-6 hours of hard riding. Perfect considering a bit of a sleep-in and going to aikido. Yosh. At full speed I made the 45 minute ride to where I consider the real begin of the journey. That initial period of avoiding careless drivers on flat exposed land in the sun is almost unbearable. Actually, "careless drivers" does not accurately describe the situation at all. I hate to borrow a cliche from the American masses, but the asian female drivers here are a natural wonder. It's unbelievable how many near-accidents happen here compared to the actual accidents. It's like people are constantly bracing for the collision or taking full advantage of it's seeming non-presence.

There's a sign that I'm headed in the right direction. You see what I'm seeing going on on the right side of that house? At the top there's a chimney fueled by stacks of wood on the second porch as well as on the base level. Who knows how much they got stowed out back in another shed and indoors as will. Whoever owns this is the coolest Japanese I've never met. The winters here are so harsh, a fire place would change everything for the better. I know Japan has a bad history with fires, and for everyone in the country to use firewood every winter would easily rob the whole forested country of its green ... but I still want a fireplace more than anything. Communism would not work here, at least for gaijin. There is not enough space or resources in this country for everyone to enjoy everything to its fullest, and yet one person can do it very easily. That violates a lot of morals in my head, and yet my only material dream for the future is having a fireplace to fill every winter and that will happen no matter what. I guess I probably won't be in Japan forever then.

The journey beckons. This picture was taken at the top of the giant hill which I pushed my bike up for what felt like two hours. However, I had left my apartment only and hour and a half earlier, and spent 45 minutes getting to the point where I could start pushing my bike ... so something isn't adding up here. Apparently, I spent about 45 of those minutes leaking sweat pushing my bike up the hill. I was feeling especially good this day, and despite my own personal gauge, I was making incredible time. At the time of this picture, I had completed the first side of the loop and made it to Kitayama, the town I had visited before. In fact, the first sight I had of the town was the abandoned building which was the focus of my last journey and post in this blog. I felt like I had visited a new friend, like a charming acquaintance I met by chance at the bar last Tuesday. I laughed and took a generous amount of water from the spring located conveniently on the side of the road. I marvelled at the wonderful views of the ocean below as well as my good time, and yet it was a good sign I would be going much further than I expected today. There are no easy ways out when you're fueled by genuine curiousity.

As soon as I descended through the town and found that side road which begged my curiousity a week earlier, the partly blue skies of blaring heat became darkeningly grey and thunderous. At that very time, there was a barbecue happening on a beach with my friends, and I remember them saying that it would be in the early afternoon because of such changes in the weather. Oh yeah, it still very much is the rainy season. For better or for worse that's really not something that passes through my head on a free sunny morning. Well, it's not like I'm going to turn back. What's the worst that could happen? I get sick from being stuck in the rain? What's up with that belief anyway? It's not like I would be cold. Through the rain I still sweat through all my pours in this temperature. In fact, how would it be any different than me swimming in the ocean? Thunder and lightning are another factor though. I should probably research riding bikes in lightning storms since it seems to come up often in my line of fun.

Here's me before any lightning strikes. I imagine there may be some mystique to remaining anonymous on the blog, so many stories and yet not a trace of the protagonist, but being personal is a lot more fun I think, so here I am. A gaijin about a third of the way around the globe from where he calls home. Funny enough, only a couple hundred years earlier, all of my ancestors were probably just as far away in an equally different kind of place. Since a long time ago it seemed irrelevant to talk about "homelands" and such, maybe seeing too many red-headed Americans touting "Kiss Me I'm Irish" shirts on St. Patty's ... and yet I feel some kind of connection with Northern Europe through my ancestors, and will damn well say any day that Orcas Island, Washington is my home. Funny how we can find some solid ground in the existential void.

"You should never use strength against strength, but sometimes you need to."

My goal at the beginning of the trip was: Make it back to Kitayama by a side road and go down the mysterious path I had found before. From there, try and get to something-something-dam while bypassing old castle ruins. I made it to Kitayama and down the mysterious path, so anything from here on out was part of the fluffy plan which I didn't really expect to follow anyway. However, those castles are an interesting bit, and what would guide me to the end of my journey. The town I was directly inland from, and technically within, was Uozu, the neighboring town just south of Kurobe. Japan is the best in the game at giving individual towns individual icons, and Uozu was famous for castles ... though there wasn't a single castle in the entire area. It reminded me of when I was driving through a town called Kamiichi elsewhere in Toyama. I was with one of my English teachers, and I noticed that on each of the signs for Kamiichi, there were pictures of the ferocious Buddhist icon (Fudou Myou). I asked him what was up with the signs and what may be famous about the town, and he replied that he had no idea. It shocked me at the time, but now it doesn't at all. Precisely because there IS something to be famous about in the town: a temple in the mountains where monks sit under dragon-carved-stone-waterfalls in the deepest colds of winter. But he had no idea. Anyway, on all of the signs for Uozu, there were drawn pictures of castles, and Uozu is known as a castle town ... and yet there are no castles. Any resident of the area will confirm that Uozo is the "town of castles", but couldn't tell you anymore. On a slightly disappointing bike trip a year earlier, I followed the signs in Uozu to the two different castle ruins that were labeled on signs. One brought me to the town of Kitayama which I had passed through, but no castles were ever found. The other I did find, but was nothing but a small wooden park structure and one of those cardboard foldouts of a samurai with the head cut out for a picture. It seemed that the ruins were in fact just the places themselves on top of hills were castles used to be. I reasoned that by following their trail some of the mystery may reveal itself to me on a second try. So, onward. Maybe castles, maybe something else, definitely sweating on my bike.

The thunder clouds began to produce rain as I emerged from the forest and found the giant image which is in the picture above. A giant goat with the square, circle, and triangle symbols often used in aikido. (OK, the geometric figures are commonly used outside of aikido, but it was the first thing that came to my mind.) The rain increased while I climbed higher up the hill following the signs for castle ruins. I thought little more of the giant goat until I saw small wooden signs for "Goat Woods" and "Goat Farm". Then likely enough, I found goats. I found a small center with some information packets explaining that oftentimes there are small camps and schooltrips for kids to come and learn about farming, and goats.

I took this moment to rest from the rain and stare at the goats. I thought about how heavy my bag would become if the aikido gi (outfit used to train in aikido) that was in my bag got soaking wet. That's not a pleasant thought. Lately when I've ridden to aikido on my bike with my gi, the pack is an average weight, but when I come back my bag feels like it weighs 20 pounds extra from the amount of my sweat that been soaked up by the gi. When I come home and dump my gi into my washing machine straight from the bag, it falls in with a thunder and I worry if it will ever drop through the floor. (Funny story, last time I just empty my bag into the wash, my aikido notes snuck in as well. They were thoroughly washed, emerging half illegible, and half torn to thousands of tiny pieces that acted like paper mache all over my clothes and kitchen. I'll be sure to give my gi another few good shakings before I put it on tonight.)

In addition to signs for castles, there were some other kanji that kept showing up on signs for something important, and whatever it was was somewhere near. I pushed my bike up through what diminished to a sprinkle in the woods, and came upon this particular site. Whatever it was, it was accompanied by a giant stone plaque and an entrance way into some woods off the side of the road. It didn't look like castle ruins, and it didn't look like a gravesite. I walked into the woods and found ... nothing really at all. It was kind of an overgrown grassy clearing. There were also a large amount of extremely thick bamboo growing everywhere between the trees.

There was an abandoned looking building to the left (to the right in the picture). Nothing special really. Didn't look like much more than a storage shed. Doors were locked. Things felt a little spooky, kind of like the abandoned "hotel" I found a week earlier. Perhaps another sign of past financial prosperity in Japan. I walked away from it. But then I noticed a very interesting design around one of the windows and a small symbol of sorts over it. I couldn't get a very good picture of it, but it was certainly more ornamental than what you usually see on a shack in the woods. This really reminded me of some hippy psychic shack I'd find in the woods in my hometown. Maybe this was an energy "powerspot" of sorts, or a vortex. There plenty of Japanese around here that would be into that. Taken that into account, I myself deemed this a special spot for something, and decided I would bless it by practicing my tai chi chuan form; something that I do when I find extraordinary places from time to time. A lot of the times when I run through the form I'm very concerned and occupied by what goes on inside of my body, but isn't the purpose of such arts to eventually be better in touch with your surroundings? I began having great revelations about the beauty of emptiness in tai chi chuan. That ideally, I want to be empty in my tai chi chuan in order to feel what is actually happening on the outside, free from my illusory judgements. I began to move through the form at an extremely slow pace investigating the area with all of my sensitive intuition. What kind of place was this?

I quickly found that it was a place full of mosquitoes.

Less than 60 seconds after starting my form I resorted to swatting furiously around my head and exposed legs and raced to my bike to continue my journey towards the castles.

The proper signs revealed themselves to me and I was drawing nearer to the castle ruins I have never visited before, Kusunaguma Castle Ruins. I expected nothing, to be honest, and really just wanted to find some downhill slopes again. I arrived at a small village and explored some of the small roads extending from it. Most became dead ends at houses. One I followed down opened up to a wide expanse of rice fields. Again I pondered the presence of these which were so far removed in the hills. Below is a picture of one of the houses and farming storage units that are common in these places. I fantasized about being a kid and coming here for weekend visits in the summer. Or maybe being stuck in a snow storm in a house like this.

Apparently this town was home to the infamous Kusunaguma Castle Ruins, and this is what I found ...

SOMETHING! The building on the right acted as a small information center, and on the left were stairs leading up to a shrine. The information center was tidy with tables and a TV, and then two unplugged refrigerators with beer! Deucers of Kirin! How could I take them though? I have to be honest, it was tempting. The refrigerators were unplugged. It's not like anybody was going to drink them soon, I thought. A calendar inside was flipped to May of this year. I wasn't able to get much information from this information center, and assumed the grand attraction was the shrine next door. I have noticed in Japan, that the more stairs there are leading up to a shrine.

It is actually quite timely that I embarked on my castle adventure at this time. A week earlier at the Sakurai High School enkai drinking party, I finally got to chat with one of the teachers who is also a zen buddhist priest. He has the clean shaved head, but like my aikido sensei, he isn't what you would maybe expect of a priest at first glance. Nevertheless, and extremely interesting guy. Anyway, I got to talking with him and asked him if he practiced zazen, the zen practice of seated meditation. He said, sometimes. As I asked him more esoteric questions about zen, he directed me to more relevant matters concerning his buddhist status. Mostly, I think he said, his job is to take care of the temple which has been in his family for many hundreds of years. He said that his temple was crucial during the Sengoku Era (Warring States Period) in the mid 1500's. At that time, the Maeda clan was in control of the areas now called Ishikawa Prefecture (neighboring prefecture to the west containing the famous city of Kanazawa) and Toyama Prefecture. To the north in Niigata, was a powerful warlord named Uesugi Kenshin who was trying to expand his area south into Toyama. Kurobe, being a city in eastern Toyama made it a bit of an outpost against invasion, and apparently many soldiers lived in my teacher's temple. The lord Maeda would use these temples as bases and would compensate the priests and communities in gold and protection. The teacher then said his temple was a "castle" in Japanese, oshiro. I was really confused because when you say Japanese castle, I have a grand image of the giant castles you find in large cities in Japan, but I know his temple is nothing of the sort. It seems I have come across another mistake in generalizing about certain Japanese words. Maybe the term "oshiro can also be used for temples which housed soldiers as well. It also reveals how religion in Japan has been utilized by society and politics throughout its history. Temples have often been sites of military and political struggle throughout Japanese history. Perhaps, this "castle" of Kosunaguma was similar to my teacher's temple/castle.

I climbed the stairs to find a fairly normal looking temple, but instead of disappointment, I was filled with historical curiousity.

Well, on to the next castle, whatever it may be. Luckily there was a lot of downhill and no rain. After about 20 minutes I made it to the next castle, Matsukura Castle, which I had visited a year before.

At a fork in the road just before the castle, I happened upon my first forest friend of the trip, and of a kind I haven't seen in a while.

Kamoshika! Defined as a goat-antelope called a serow. I'm not sure how prevalent they are around the rest of Japan, but there's quite a lot in Toyama, and I think that's rare. Aside from monkeys, these are the second most frequent animals I see in the mountains. This is just the kind place I would expect to see one. This one was very strange though, standing on the side of the road. I saw him coming from a ways off and stopped to take a picture. It was dead frozen. I waited for a bit just hanging out with it from a distance, but it didn't budge at all. When I continued down the hill in it's direction he remained the same. I went down the other road from the fork, keeping us about 20 meters apart, but he just watched me. I thought this was really weird. It certainly didn't look like it was standing its ground in defense, but it also didn't look frozen with fear. It seemed like it was just watching me like I was watching it and completely forgot what it was doing. Maybe I have some deep connection with kamoshika, I like them better than the stinky thieving monkeys.

I thought it strange and looked back periodically to the frozen kamoshika, who remained frozen, while I rode up to the ruins just up the other side of the hill. I think this is the more "popular" of the two main castle ruins, and has been turned into a park with grass lawns and some monkey bars (that maybe the monkeys use???). There's an interesting wooden tower platform which was roped off and climbed by me. Further down there was a covered area, and if I remember right, there's a cheesy life-size wooden samurai figure with the face cut out so you could pose with it and take a picture. This seemed like a cruel joke a year earlier when I anticipated a great mysterious castle and found this campy display instead. It made me laugh now, and I didn't even bother to make the 50 yard walk to find out if my memory was right.

The road continued past the castle ruins, which made two potential ways further into the mystery of the mountains, but which one should I take? Going in opposite directions they'd surely take me to two very different places. Ah-ha! A map! There was a convenient looking illustrated map just behind me I bounded to for a look. It indicated exactly where I had been wanting to go ... but I couldn't for the life of me figure out which of the roads it was indicating. I don't know how many times I've found myself in this situation. Slightly lost and provided with a giant public map, but still having no idea how to get where I want. Well, actually I had two ideas, but they led in complete opposite directions along those roads. I wonder what's more to blame, my sense of direction or Japanese maps. Well, I gathered one road took me back to Kitayama from where I had came, though the road I thought it indicated was in the opposited direction from which I came. The other road, would lead me up to further mountains, but seemed like it would head in the valleys.

I looked back to find the kamoshika in exactly the same position it had been when I first saw it.

I gave up on the map and made an intuitive guess to follow the road that the map seemed to show going to Kitayama. What initially went up, turned to down quickly. I followed it a bit further, and saw it curling back to where Kitayama could be and continue down for a long while. This was definitely not the road I want. I pushed the bike back up the hill back to the castle ruins. The kamoshika had made it across the road where it was slowly grazing. At the time I was thoroughly convinced he was there to signal the way. I began my descent with great speed in order to power me up the hill across the way where the kamoshika was standing. I rang my bike bell so as not to scare the animal, and he very slowly crawled up the hill to the left while watching me, seemingly without fear or need of defense. I waved goodbye to him and headed on my way.

According the pictures on the map, I was going to ascend a bit so that I could follow a ridge of about 4 different peaks, and then eventually descend to the river I planned to return along. I pushed my bike for a while through winding uphill roads. I realized how long it had been since I ate and fantasized about a beer and plate of chahan (fried rice). The whole day had gone faster than I felt, and so I was still making very good time. Remember, I was still trying to make it to aikido later. Two weeks earlier I had the same plan after my Kareisawa trip, and showed up to aikido just in time after I crammed a plate of chahan in my stomach. So I was in class happily, but dehydrated, stinking, and with a stomach ache. This time I thought I could plan so I would get down back to civilization early enough to gorge on a huge meal with a beer and get clean and rested in onsen before I went to the dojo. But I still had further to go.

I got to the first of the four peaks indicated on the map, and found a small wooden sign on the side of the road that pointed towards an overgrown path in the woods. I contemplated just continuing along the road without stopping, but then settled to go on foot. First there were wooden steps, and for some reason I felt a burst of energy and started bounding up the steps in a run. Combined memories of running up "the Hill" in football practice as a boy and feelings of adventure exploring mysterious worlds in Zelda video games came together in some kind of amazing synergy, and this caused a huge smile with my tongue hanging out in the wind and sweat. I got to the top and found a slightly flattened and cleared area. It looked like a prime spot for a campground, but there was essentially nothing there. I ran to the second peak in the same fashion which didn't require me getting on my bike. I was taking the overgrown wooden stairs two at a time on my upward bound to find a larger but similarly cleared area. Perhaps this one was used as a campsite sometimes. There were many trees in the way, but I was able to find a spectacular view of the mountains behind.

Ahhhh, absolutley amazing to look one way and find the small world of civilized human life in the towns, and look back the other to see snow capped moutains and wilderness forever. I think the mountain in this picture is Dainichi. I could also pick out a taller mountain whose summit was covered in clouds. I recognized its jagged peaks and new instantly what it was: Tsurugi-Dake! AKA Sword Mountain. AKA Hell Mountain. A mountain I had climbed almost exactly a year before with my brother. If the kamoshika is my spirit animal, then Tsurugi is my mountain. Everytime I get into the mountains, it is Tsurugi that somehow catches my glance and I pick it out right away, though it is usually less than obvious. It reminds me of when I climbed Shirouma-Dake and looked out across the mountainscape at sunrise. I was standing next to a guy who looked like a very experienced hiker, and pointed to a mountain asking him if it was Tsurugi. He said, nope, it was something something something mountain instead. I believed him at first, but for hours as the day went on I became absolutley 100% sure it was Tsurugi. He was full of shit. I wonder if he doubted himself when he told me. Well, I was 95% sure that that mountain hidden by clouds I saw on that bike trip was in fact Tsurugi. I had great feelings welling inside of me.

I continued down to resaddle the mamachari, and barely stopped at the next path up as I parked my bike and resumed my savage pace. A higher more expansive hilltop revealed itself, and continued to what would be the forth and final peak.

After all this wandering in what I thought were unknown mountains, I found information!

Sweet wonderful informational boards and maps! I couldn't read the Japanese on any of them, but began investigating them with all of my curiousity. On this map, I was at the top of the farthest right point on the ridge in the back. On the flat plains next to the ocean are where the main towns are located, and you can see where rivers cut inland, which are my usual gateways to the mountains. I'd say where I was was maybe the 2nd of 5 tiers that go up to the highest peaks. On bike rides like these, I usually don't get quite as high as this.

The Japanese on such informational boards and maps is particularly difficult to read because of the amount of kanji, perhaps to give it an educated and sophisticated touch. I don't appreciate it much, but it's the main reason why I want to learn Japanese. Anyway, on this map were many tiny little colored dots indicating specific locations of import. At the top of the list were the two castle ruins of Matsukura and Kusunaguma, but then there were a list of about ten other locations, with the suffix of "castle"!!! What? The four peaks I had just visited were also noted as "castles". I felt as though while I stood there in front of the map on top of the mountain, a huge curtain of Japanese confusion was pulled aside to reveal Truth! I believe these were not castles like those most famous in Japan, but were large temples that acted as castles during the battles between Maeda and Kenshin! (Despite the cartoony castle image you see on all the signs in town in Uozu, tricky bastards.) Also, this place was known as "Castle Town", not just because of one or two of them, but because there were upwards of ten or twenty of them! Being on top of this ridge, it was an epic feeling to imagine myself 500 years ago standing here surrounded by castles and soldiers.

And nobody knows about this place. What amazing and mysterious history there is laying in the hills underneath the ground, but the hive down below could care less. Less than a few kilometers away, convenience stores by the hundreds were being filled with the exact same products as you could find anywhere in Japan, and I was standing upon Toyama history. It was a long time ago I stopped looking down condescendingly on Japanese for their lack of knowledge of local history. It's just a fact of life here. People are too busy working, studying, shopping. WAY too busy. When I first started finding such places, I would tell my coworkers and students at school and they would marvel at my enthusiasm for such adventures. But after months of telling such stories every weekend, it was no longer interesting, and rather frustrating to others.

I would show up to school on Monday morning and begin class by telling the students I went on a great bike trip to find interesting places in the mountains.

"Has anybody heard of this place before?"

Nothing but blank stares focused on my sunburnt face and blonde hair, from which a mouth was spewing this strange barbaric language; one they have studied for maybe 5 years now, but the shock of hearing it in real life seems too much for them when it can't be checked in a textbook or immediately translated into Japanese by the teacher.

"Well, what did you do this weekend?" I pointed at a particular student in the front row. They become immediately flushed with red and point at their own nose trying to confirm whether it was them I was asking.

"Yes, you. What did you do this weekend?"

"Test."

"Test?! You had tests on Saturday?"

Confirming nod.

"What about Sunday, what did you do Sunday?"

"Test."

"Test?!"

I looked at the teacher who said, "Zac-san, didn't you know they had tests all weekend?"

I looked back at the class. Half of the students had their heads down and hair covering their face to conceal sleeping in class. A quarter of the class were picking at their hands or spinning their pencils. The other quarter were staring at me as intently as their tired eyes could. I wonder how many knew what we were talking about. I felt horrible as I handed out a worksheet for them.

"Here is a ... special ... uhhh ... very fun English assignment I have for you! Yaaaaay!" I had a huge sincere but forced smile on my face, hoping that it might cause a chain reaction with some of the students.

On the mountain I went to a small shrine at the highest point I could find and made a few claps and bows in accordance with Shinto tradition. Then it was time to descend and find food and onsen.

I'm not sure when it was that the switch happened, but somewhere along the past two years, the return trips from my mountain voyages have become extremely conflicted. Sunsets and downhill cruises are undeniable pleasures, and yet returning back to society brings a lot of ill feelings. I'm not talking about some generalized battle or discontent with society. I'm talking about more specific and indirect thoughts. I miss Jolene incredibly much. What have I sacrificed to be here? I miss friends who have big beards, wear carharts, and drink large amounts of dark beer. I think about the hakama (dress-like garb that goes with a blackbelt in aikido) that I dream about so often. Either I marvel at staying here for 10+ years, becoming an uchi-deshi and a high ranking aikidoka, to return home as a teacher fulfilling what may be the clearest semblance of a goal. Or I become frustrated with the dreams that cage so many years of my future and just want to give it up and travel somewhere new. I just want a double blue cheese bacon burger.

I have no idea what's happening to me.

At least in the form of abstractions. I only know I'm on a bike, and making incredible time to eat a big meal, have an hour for onsen, and go to aikido. This aikido is not the aikido fantasize about, with all its epic quests of slaying dragons. This is the aikido I do, with real people that make me happy. There is a big difference between these two.

There's something going on between living my daily routine in Japan, riding my chari to the mountains, and practicing aikido. I don't know what it is, but there is some unnameable force linking them all together for some collective experience of something.

I don't know exactly what it is. It's definitely not my daily life, aikido, biking, or writing, but something more interesting.

Hauntings in the Mountains

2011-07-09T23:00:00.009+09:00

This was the first sign that notified me that I had begun to tread on haunted ground. I didn't see any ghosts or things moving against the normal laws of time and space, but this place was weird. I assume she acted as a sort of scarecrow, but it doubled as a scaregaijin.

Here's another view with her friend over there on the left in purple. If I could, I would love to meet their maker, but maybe in a voyeuristic kind of way. I'm not sure I'd want to talk to her right away, but see what kind of person put together this manakin for the crows. Across the road from these frightful broads was another scarecrow of sorts, but was just clothes on a cross with a large farm hat. From it I could hear nonstop chatter. I quickly realized it was a radio blaring; the only sound in this strange mountain town. I looked to find someone around working who may be listening (seems like a pretty normal thing to expect right?), but I didn't find anyone. I wonder how such a poor farmer can afford such battery use.

And the abandoned granny wagon on the side of the road? How far could someone who needs this kind of transport gone on their own?! Have you reader's ever heard of Tengu? In Japanese folklore they are a kind of half-crow, half-human goblin responsible for various kinds of mischief. I've only read about them in books until now.

But before I move on to the really strange stuff, I'll give you a little background information for this particular trip into the mountains on my mamachari. It was a Sunday morning I awoke to my summer ritual of a fried egg, english muffins with blueberry jam, and a little too much coffee. Oh yeah, and a slightly more than slight hangover this time. The night before was my last enkai, Japanese work party, which are famous for heavy drinking for those willing to go to afterparty after afterparty. Because it was my last one, I made a big speech which I did pretty well with (excellent planning, poor practice, and extremely nervous upon delivery), I talked with a lot of other teachers, and went to a few afterparties with the usuals. I think I'm much closer with my coworkers at Sakurai High School than most other ALTs (Assistant Language Teachers). This is probably because I only go to one school whereas many others often go between 5 or 10 different ones a week. Also, I speak Japanese enough to make conversation, and so I do so daily with the various teachers at my school. Furthermore, I don't mind having the same conversations over and over and over and over again that come up in such enkai scenarios; as long as I can drink and make the other party laugh in the end. If there's no drinking and no laughing, my face gets sore from fake smiling so much and I want to drink way more than I know I should ... that situation happens often in my line of work/life here in Japan.

So, I felt as though I did as much beer imbibing and socializing that a weekend needs and was just writhing to get on my bike and into the mountains. Funny thing is, there was an annual beer festival in Toyama City where small breweries from all over Japan come to Toyama for a big party. The fact I passed this up means I really wanted to be on my bike and away from people. This is kind of like school teachers who are forced to become crabby and bossy when kids drive them crazy at work; maybe they're not like that naturally, but because of their circumstances, they become so. I feel as though I'm a pretty social and extroverted kind of guy, but because I'm constantly around people in social situations that are not fitting to my ideals, I'm constantly finding myself escaping more such events. Perhaps this makes me anti-social. Maybe other people should find more interesting things to do. All I know, is that at the time, being stuck in transit and paying large amounts of money to drink beer while I already had a hangover and have to make conversation with people known and unknown alike made me feel like I'd really hate Monday when it came along. Therefore, I was off.

This brings me to an important tangent about enduring harsh weather and hangovers. Both are quite separate, but first, by far the best way to deal with harsh weather is to get out in it. Lately it's been the rainy season, and so it's in the low 90's, incredibly humid, and it usually breaks out into raging thunderstorms at least once a day in the middle of sunny weather. If I spend all day under air conditioners and fans, my skin and feeling gets all screwy and I hate it. Moreover, when you finally get out into the heat, it's just unbearable because you could just as easily be under the air conditioner which you've grown accustomed to all day, all season long. And you know what? I really don't mind the heat, which sounds weird when I hear myself say that, because usually I prefer colder to hotter temperatures. But seriously, I could care less if I'm sweaty and stinking. I only care because it is uncomfortable for other people if I'm teaching at school or getting together with friends. I'll sit and write on my blog in my apartment and lose track of things in the world and look down at my arms to realize I have more beads of sweat than an elephant in the oven. I don't care! I'll drink water. When I'm on my bike, I'm either not around people, or people are already staring at me because I'm white, so what does the sweaty factor matter? It just adds to my general freakness here in Japanland. Anyway, the same works for snow and rain. Weather only sucks if it keeps you from doing what you want. So you should just do what you want in whatever weather is happening, and if it's really what you want, the weather won't matter. This little conversation has gone differently than I thought, I wonder if you learned anything. Oh yeah, hangovers: if I can manage to get out of bed then I can completley forget about the hangover when I'm leaking sweat in the sun towards the mountains.

My goal for this particular bike trip was a place called "Kitayama", which literally means "north mountain". It's really not that far north and niether a particularly high mountain. One of my maps said there was an onsen there, and it looked a bit far, which were both good enough reasons to get me excited while I stared at them with my coffee cup in hand in my "living room", which has tatami mats and isn't really like what most people would think of as a living room. So I'll call it my "living tatami room". To skip all the little details of things I saw and get on to the weird stuff, I went looking for an onsen I didn't find, and instead found myself in the same place I did almost exactly a year ago in an equally disappointing trip where I was so close to what I was looking for but didn't find. After the initial feelings of failure, I decided to follow the road further up, and found this strange town of Kitayama. It was all rice fields and farm houses ... except ...

FOR THIS BUILDING!

I first saw this unfitting gigantic building from the bottom of town and I was pretty excited to make the rest of my trip downhill. However, I was just mesmerized by the oddity of this building. I thought maybe it was some kind of community center, maybe a hospital? Maybe it would even be an onsen. Many of the nicest onsen are actually in hotels that look pretty bare or even shoddy from the outside. I decided to give it one look before I go down because I was pretty sure I'd never be here again.

As I got closer, I noticed graffiti on the walls and a lot of broken windows. Also, a wall of shrubs grow around the perimeter save a long sheet metal barrier. I rode my bike beyond it to higher ground, like a wolf circling some strange corpse to extend the time of distant investigation.

This place was really tagged up. I couldn't see a single intact window, and any space along the inside looked like it was covered in graffiti. I looked down on the sleepy farming village, and then back to this giant decrepit builidng ... it didn't make sense. From my perch I looked for an entrance and then descended upon the mystery.

I went back to that sheet metal wall, and parked my bike conspicuously across the street. I found a space that was slightly ajar, just wide enough for some punk high schooler with a bag of contraband to get through, which fit me just fine. I walked through for twenty meters through overgrown grass and came to the entrance of the building. A part of me synched right back into a mode of exploration I honed growing up in my forested island hometown. Investigating abandoned buildings alone or with friends always began by rustling through head high brush and grass. The outside had been completely razed by bats (of the swinging smashing sort) and spray paint. There was no real door inside on the bottom level. I could have taken the rusting metal staircase that went along the outside, but I went for the midget-sized cutting in the side of the building which seemed to function as the main entrance for whoever it was that had been here last.

Ever since my plan to find onsen was foiled earlier, all I heard in my mind was "I don't know anything. It's OK if you don't know anything, it's if you do know that you get in trouble." This conversation echoed from the last car conversation to "strange" aikido earlier in the week. Sensei got on the topic of how to get good at aikido, and the concept of time came up ... practicing aikido 3 times a week for 5 years is better than practicing aikido 5 days a week for a year. "But what about practicing 5 days a week for 5 years, Sensei?" I wanted to ask, but for some reason I held back. Anyway, both of those scenarios are better than practicing once or maybe twice a week ... that is way too slow for my liking, however, it is my near future hear. At least for the next year, my aikido training will most definitely be cut down to one, maybe two if I'm lucky, training sessions a week. I told Sensei, "I'm very worried." There was dead silence for about 5 seconds, and then I said something else. I wish I hadn't have said it. I was begging for some kind of fatherly reassurance. "Don't worry, Zac, you'll be good no matter what." Or "Well, maybe I can fit in another practice or two for you sometime." But there was nothing but the dead silent reality of a question with no answer: "How am I going to get better at aikido?" I really wish I hadn't said it, and I understand at least on some surface functional level, that it's way better for me to smile and say no problem than to worry about this ... for so many different reasons.

Where was that onsen? I don't know. What is this building? I have no idea? Nothing ... in reality there's nothing but nothing, and limited questions that lead to real expansive nothing.

It was incredibly dark. Not pitch-black, but incredibly dark. The pictures only reveal as much as they do because I used the flash. I was thoroughly creeped out. It was dead quiet and my eyes were wide open trying to pick up any sign that may indicate I need to get out of there as quickly as possible. The area I had walked into was a wide high-ceilinged ballroom of sorts with stairs on either side spiraling up to other open areas. Graffiti revealed itself quietly through the shadows. My vision was maybe at 20%.

This seemed to be the main piece in the gallery, possibly naming the group that was responsible for the recent life in this place: "MASK THE REVOLT!!! SEXGANG CRU!!!" They really should have had a native speaker look at this to check their English. Maybe I should have left my card in case they need my future services. I saw this slogan along with a drawn face (unfortunately covered by the post on the right) in many different places in the building. Wandering around I was still incredibly weary of whether someone else was in the building at that time. Who knows how recently anybody was in there? Were they punk high school kids? Junkies? Biker gang rapists? A couple weeks earlier I was talking with another English teacher and he mentioned a story about a biker gang about ten or twenty years ago who abducted two high school girls, and took them against their will to an abandoned school in the mountains. They were never seen again. This wasn't a school though. The main area I was in looked like a dining area. I have no idea.

I investigated further and found a few nondescript rooms, totally ravaged and tagged, and found the main staircase. It led to a hallway that could be seen from the outside. (See pictures above of view from outside.) On each floor there were four rooms, which looked like domiciles. Actually really nice ones at that. Each had an entryway, a large main room, a small bathroom, and porch space. It looked like a hotel room to me. The balconies looked out towards the ocean which yielded great views of Uozu City and the ocean. I went through and checked each room, each equally abused and individually marked by artistic creations.

Each hallway as well had been marked. A lot of English phrases you'd expect to find from foreign taggers, but nothing too explicit. When you see amatuer graffiti in the States, I'd say most of it are strings of the most obscene English words available accompanied by pornographic illustrations. There were certainly some explitives written, and strange faces drawn, but nothing like you'd see in bathroom stalls at home. There was a lot of Japanese as well, it looked like a lot were names and locations. Here we can see the musical choice of some of the members: "Metallica" (perhaps a sign of aggression and good choice in music), "Mr. Children" (Really? I don't think anyone who listens to Mr. Children would be responsible for anything more than harmless misdemeanors), and others above read, "Radwimps" (They're OK but still pretty mainstream) and something else I didn't recognize.

There were four stories of these kinds of rooms and I went through each one. As I advanced to the next floors, I had a very ominous feeling like I was ever getting closer to some horrible revelation or impending doom. Perhaps unknowingly I was slowly walking into a trap that would change me forever.

Man this place had some really good views.

One other interesting note about this place is that there were no empty alocohol containers or any trash for that matter that wasn't originally in this place. Isn't that a crucial part of tresspassing and trashing public property? Pissing and throwing your trash around in defiance? Not here. Maybe these were well seasoned hikers well accustomed to "pack-in, pack-out" philosophies.

Ah-ha! Some hard evidence! 2002. Almost ten years ago. I would imagine if someone had been there since for such destruction, it would be written on the walls. But I checked every square inch of wall in the building and this was the only date. That's a pretty long time for the residents of the town to tolerate such a monstrous monolith of youthful rebellion in their sleepy farming village. Such a demolition. project would be incredibly expensive and time consuming.

I have to mention again, this is extremely rare. Perhaps in the city you'll see some abandon buildings taken over by such activity, but this is the first time I've seen it in Toyama. What makes this especially weird to me is that it's deep in the mountains at the very end of the road and civilization. When you live in town and go about your daily life you really don't see the kind of people whom you would associate with this activity. But even in small country towns in Toyama certainly have their own underbelly. If you're out late at night around the highways you'll see and hear biker gangs from time to time. Not quite the Harley image, but a younger Japanese version. If you go to the right bars, you'll find the people who could really care less about fitting into Japanese society, but the difference about Japan is that if it's clear this is the case, then you're obviously an outsider. On rare occurences I have been sitting in an onsen and just before closing time seen bald men with goatees and scars wearing yakuza-esque tattoos on their chest and arms. The other Japanese ignore them with contempt. The counter culture is incredibly hidden in Japan, but most certainly existent.

I made it to the roof and expected some kind of epic conclusion to my shady adventure, but instead found nothing, expect myself standing on the roof in plain view of the town. I crouched down and left the premises soon after. I got back on my bike, which obviously belonged to someone who had went for a tresspassing peek, and descended from the town. As I passed through I rode by an older woman who was certainly surprised to me and let out a "Harro!" and laughed. I said "Hello" back and laughed myself.

In the end I would guess it was a failed hotel project of sorts. One of the many signs, all over Japan, that there was a time a decade or two or three earlier where lots of people had big ideas and wallets. Maybe it was built for workers out there in the mountains. Along the many rivers in the area, there are huge dams everywhere and lots of people come from major cities to do seasonal work in the country on various projects from time to time. But I don't know. Certainly it wasn't to boost tourism. Maybe it was intended as a weekend resort area for people living in Uozu? Maybe there was onsen there one day!

I didn't find my onsen, but I found something far more ... something. You never know what you're going to see when you start taking nameless roads inland. This was definitely the last town into the mountains here, but tiny roads followed rice fields further up, and alternative routes leading out of the town were on either side. This was enough for me on that day, but by no means had I exhausted exploration in the area. I would be back. Especially because I think I saw a sign for castle ruins and an extremely enticing road leading into darkened woods away from civilization.

I'll be back.

Mountain Shrines, and Monkeys, and Villages, Oh My!

2011-07-07T22:27:00.012+09:00

This post is a little late coming as I took the trip about two weeks ago, but better than never ne?

It occurred to me that morning, that though the snow melted many months ago, I have yet to go on a real gaijin adventure on my bike into the mountains in search of the mysteries of Toyama Prefecture. Back in February when the snow quality was slightly diminishing and epic snowboarding experiences began to lessen; all I could think about was when I could get on the bike again. However, a trip to Yakushima, visits from loved ones abroad, and other miscellaneous distractions have kept me from what it is I love most to do on fair-weather weekends. Well, that time came to an end as I rolled out of my futon with a slight hang over, had my standard weekend breakfast of a fried egg and two English muffins with blueberry jam, accompanied by just a little too much coffee, and saddled my mamachari (Japanese granny bike). That detail of the mamachari is actually pretty interesting because I upgraded happily a long time ago to a mountain bike, but somehow I'm left with only the mamachari at this time. There's a strange simple beauty about the mamachari compared to the mountain bike. Maybe it's because it only has one gear, is much heavier, and carries more rust. Maybe it has something to do with wabi sabi. Well, regardless, I'd actually very much prefer to be on a mountain bike; but whatever.

My destination that day was Kareisawa, a mysterious sounding town that I had only seen signs of before on earlier mountain adventures. Last year I rode (or rather pushed) my bike up an 800 meter mountain to the Kareisawa Shinrin Koen (Kareisawa forest park) on one of my most trying adventures to date. It was one of those instances where I looked at my maps and remarked, "Oh yeah, no problem. This looks like a short one today." However, I soon realized that I should invest in some topographical maps that could better warn me of incredibly steep inclines. It was one of those trips where I had been pushing my bike for a couple of hours in the sweltering humidity and somehow knew instinctively that I had hours to go even though I had no idea where I was. I got to the top and found a place much less epic than I imagined, and promised I would never go up that way again. Well, part of the way up I remember seeing a sign for this town of Kareisawa with a tiny windy road that descended the mountain, but away from the ocean and into a forested valley. This was where I decided to go. On my way up towards Shinrin Koen I planned to stop at the Niikawa Farm, a place famous in Niikawa (the eastern region of Toyama Prefecture) for friendly animals and tasty ice cream. It is about halfway up the mountain, and I wanted to take a back way that I hadn't seen before. So, off I went, flying towards the mountains with my sun hat and squeaky mamachari.

To be honest, this "back way" up to the farm was more of an idealized hope than something I knew for fact. Given this mindset and the places I usually try to go, it's some form of miracle I ever find these places. Anyway, I headed towards where I thought this entrance to the mountains might be on roads I had ridden many times before. My first distraction was a sign on the side of the road that looked as if it led to a park beyond an overgrown trail. The top of the hill looked like it wasn't too far away so I decided to park the bike and explore.

I jumped up the stairs that ascended quickly and came to a very muddy fork in the trail; one way going 90 degrees to the right, and the other in the complete opposite direction. Neither of these trails looked like they were going up in any fashion, and also didn't look like they had been used in years. I looked back and forth between the two, took a deep breath, and just picked the one to the left. The path was dead flat. After every turn I would keep telling myself, "Alright, if this doesn't look like it goes uphill after the next section, I'll go the other way." I said this to myself about three times, but finally after about 10 minutes I gave up and headed back to where I came to investigate the other side. Once I finally started in the other direction from the trailhead, my patience ran thin after only a couple minutes, and I eventually turned back and returned to my bike without seeing anything but endless overgrown paths through the forest. Every path leads somewhere for sure, but I really don't have time to go down every path, so it's onward to one that is a little more exciting.

I got to my bike and decided that that was my one aimless meander for the day and from here on out it was going to be straight to where I wanted to go: Niikawa Farm. But there was a bit of a problem. Like I mentioned earlier, I didn't really know how to get there. To the left was the monstrous super highway that would surely get me closer, but could still be difficult to find when trying to get off it, and would be hell with all the cars speeding past me. To the right were tiny farm roads towards the mountains. Ideally, there would be that "perfect back way up to the farm", but most likely there would be no road, and I would certainly not make it to my goal that day if that was the case. Well, anything is better than the highway, so into uncertainty I rode with conviction.

The road had a slight but steady incline, which becomes a great task on the chari. Here there really is no turning back. If I decide to put the effort into the climb, there's no way I give it up halfway just to find another path just as uncertain. As I go further to the mountains, it's all wide farmland, mostly rice fields, and the occasional lone standing house with the typical small white Japanese farmer truck parked in front. I saw where a couple roads led up to the right in the direction of the farm. Certainly such a road could lead to the farm, but to be honest I was only about 20% sure things would work out in that direction. I had to make my decision to head into the mountains at some point and so I did. As the ascent became slightly steeper, I still trudged onward pedaling on my bike. Sounds of civilization dwindled and I was able to start looking down on things.

Eventually, the farms ended and the tree line began. As I entered the forest, all sounds disappeared; in fact everything did but the walls of green forest on either side of me, and the pavement single lane before me. My pedaling gradually became slower until I came to a complete stop. From there on out as long as there was such an incline, I'd be pushing the bike up the mountain. Up ahead came a fork and it seemed I would be given news about where it is this road leads too. News I received, and extremely good news it was: about 4 kilometers away was Niikawa Farm! Turns out I did find my secret back way up to the farm.

A rush of elation carried me up the hill through the forest for about 30 minutes. But then I encountered my first mental block along the way. That point where I find myself pushing my bike up a lonely road and I realize I will be doing it for maybe the next hour or two. It was hot, and even though I was under the cover of the trees, I was sweating profusely. My legs like pistons were pushing me up the hill; my hands on the handlebars in a forward lean; my head for the most part hanging to give me a good view of the asphalt I was covering. My sweat stank. I could smell the rank of coffee and alcohol and other toxins being squeezed out of my body. I could feel my legs working asymmetrically, maybe because one ankle I had sprained skateboarding about ten years ago never healed the same. In the middle left side of my back, a usual ball of stiffness came, maybe from a collarbone broken in rugby five years earlier. Though my imagination was clear and dwelt deep within me, it was covered by this stinky fleshy existence on all sides; absolutely completely enveloped by this weak temporal frame.

With my head to the pavement, visions of my insides began haunting me. Who knew exactly what was going on inside of me? What kinds of parasites, bacteria, or cancers were festering inside of me? In what kind of shape were all those organs and tissues that were so generously given to me in my mother's womb?

But at that time, all of those things seemed not to belong to me. I never asked for them, and surely I wouldn't have them for much longer. I really can't do much to control their condition can I? I mean really; those fleshy pieces ever in flux. However, there was something different about my bones. Those white solid unflinching columns atop which all else settled. No matter what sweat came out, or how much I huffed and puffed, my bones where there just the same. It seemed like forever they would be as they are. I wanted my bones to shine in the sun and be free of my fleshy case, but that is just not how things work. I started thinking there must be some kind of sacred space separating my bones from my flesh. No matter how small that space was, there was a distinct separation between my bones and flesh. Maybe it was similar to the space between my fingernails and my skin, or the space between a copper nail submerged in wood.

You may investigate these things yourself and find no space, but I do, or at least did at that time. I saw the surface level where the majority of society deems me a normal and healthy and functional human being. On this level I wake up, do incredibly boring errands, cram food in my mouth, pass over without giving proper respect many things that may deserve it, and shower and go to sleep. There is my blonde hair, pink skin, human language speaking smiling self. But below that things are much much different. Underneath the skin hungry hungry fleshy desires fester and desire satiation. Little hungry demons that cry when they're not tended to. Though I belong to a society that makes indulgence so convenient, these demons can only be kept at bay for a while. At least until you start wondering why it is you have to do so much as far as maintenance for the shell. Here I am hungry for food and water. I need to be loved by family, friends, non friends, people who don't even exist. I need to be assured that I am worthy and needed in this world. I drink coffee when I'm bored at work, drink booze when I'm alone in my apartment, and gorge myself with food so I'm so full I can't think of anything else. I get angry with people who don't meet whatever standards I deem important at whatever particular times. And all of those demons who whip with fire these fleshy desperate desires, seem able to change and grow and disappear in a matter of seconds. What it is that is always so desperate can easily be forgotten in a second. That food I craved so much, I can't even remember what it is. That taste for beer I wanted so badly disappeared once I distracted myself with some TV show. At one point when I thought I couldn't live without some kind of love, that feeling became nothing when a car almost hit me in the street.

It's like watching a sports game and screaming and crying at the small people's actions on a TV screen while you cram yourself with junk.

This is not me. This is not what I wanted; it's not what I want now. It wasnft here when I started, and moves on quickly after it comes. However, its nature envelops me, and there is no way to escape it. Below I take refuge in my bones where I can sit beneath my flesh and watch the demons fight each other. As if I'm sitting underneath the ocean, I just look at all the fish in the blue with innocence. Some may call it a "beginner's mind". It is what I felt when I was a little kid and went out my front door to dig in the dirt of the forest next to my house. It's the same feeling I got when I rushed out of my apartment on my bike. That is still there, here with me now, underneath that plague of flesh.

For some reason I looked up and saw a sedan parked strangely on the side of the road where a rusty piece of metal acted as a bridge over a concrete guided stream. The bridge headed nowhere in particular it seemed.

The road wound steep up to the right and rose quickly. I kept my eyes to the woods in the direction of the car and sure enough I saw an old man walking through the woods about forty yards away. I kept on pushing my bike up the hill with my eyes glued to him. He noticed me, and halfway sneakily crept behind a tree to avoid my gaze.

Anyway, I rose above the majority of the forest and things flattened out a little bit, revealing pastures that probably used to be grazing ground but were now just overgrown grass and wildflowers. After an uneventful half hour I arrived at the ranch.

I have visited the ranch before a few times and wasn't surprised at the company of farm animals and local families and oldies. Niikawa ranch is THE place to go to for a half day getaway. Parents take their children here, and retired folks gather in tens and order shuttles to take them up the mountain. The place is also famous for wonderful views over the flatland of Niikawa and the ocean and even the Ishikawa Peninsula far in the distance. It was fortunate success to make it here first to the Niikawa Farm, but my destination lay much further ahead.

I started the steep climb ambitiously by pedaling instead of pushing my bike up the hill. After about 2 minutes my speed had decreased significantly and an older man on a mountain bike fully decked out in spandex high tech gear passed me on my right at a steady speed. I leapt off my bike, wiped the sweat of my upper lip, and resumed pushing my mamachari.

So, in my mind Niikawa Farm was about 1/3 of the way to the top of Shinrin Koen, the top of that particular mountain which I visited a year ago. I predicted the sign and turn off for Kareisawa would maybe be 2/3 of the way to the top. Now, after 2 years of exploring this area on my bike, I knew better than to try and print out maps of where I was going. For one thing, the two excellent maps I have in my apartment which I consult before such trips are slightly different from each other, so something is a little funny there. Also, I know better than to expect to just get straight to where I wanted to go. At this time, the worst case scenario would be missing the turn off and going all the way to the top to Shinrin Koen.

This stretch of road is rarely used and extremely windy and steep. I was either pushing my bike up an impossible incline or straining my hands on a brake while flying downhill. On this part you start to get closer to the real mountains of Toyama. Snowcapped peaks loom closer and on either side may be deep forested valleys with rivers like veins pumping from the heart of the mountains out to the extremities of the shore and into the sea.

I got to where I thought was about 2/3 of the way up and no sign of a turn off. Well, there's no turning back here.

I kept on for about another 30 minutes from a waterfall on the side of the road where I filled up my water bottle. Just after that I found a turn off! But for Kareisawa? I don't think so. Some other strange town perhaps. Would it take me to Kareisawa? Probably. Ideally the road I would take would be a long steep road taking me to the deepest towns along the rivers inland. At the worst, it would just be a road that would take me quickly back to the oceanside towns I was more familiar with. I remember a year ago seeing specific signs for Kareisawa, and this was not it, so I kept on.

I soon came to another turn off, again with no mention of Kareisawa. I didn't remember there being so many of these. They seemed to be in the right direction, but not exactly what I was looking for. Did all these roads meet up and lead to the same place? I have no idea. Still onward and upward.

A slight ironic frustration arose as I passed landmarks I remembered from a year ago. The same thoughts were passing through my head as had before. Actually, that's not true. Last year I desperately wanted the destination to be just around the next corner. This time, I had enough experience to know such thinking would only curse the next turn as well as my patience, and was just generally unlikely. However I did see my first monkey on this particular trip.

Eventually, I finally came to a sign with characters resembling Kareisawa, but it wasn't quite what I remembered in my mind. Surely I was getting closer, but this was still not it. I intuited that there was another road higher up which was the road I wanted to take, but it probably linked up with this road just below this point. Regardless, I was feeling good at the time and decided just to keep on up. I knew that once I decided to head down, it would be 100% down from then on, so I wanted to use what little energy I had left for the adventure up.

About 15 minutes later, I found my road. I think I made it about 95% up the mountain. This is hilarious considering my sense of timing and direction. In my humble opinion, I usually have a great sense of the direction I need to go, but completely underestimate and distort times in my head. I'm just lucky I confine my adventures to day trips in relatively safe environments. I would have to make some serious changes if I was to head out into true isolated wilderness.

I knew Shinrin Koen was just a little further, maybe ten minutes away and I decided to make it to the top just to say I did. But then I stopped after 10 paces, remembered how disappointing it was the first time, and elected to just begin my descent into mysterious mountain towns. I tried to think of what could possibly be at the top which would make me regret turning around. ... dinosaurs ... anything less than living breathing fighting dinosaurs at the top of the mountain, and I could care less. So down I went.

The road was surprisingly small and unkempt and it surprised me the road warranted a sign at all. It was steep and littered with brush. My hands were sore for days afterward from holding the breaks the whole way down. At times I held the brakes down completely only to find a very slow deceleration. I thought whatever it is that gets in my way will certainly be unhappy about the condition of my brakes. I also thought a thought that comes through my head a few times a week when I'm riding my bike at high speeds: how good is my ukemi? (Forward rolling that we usually do in aikido) If I flew over my handle bars down a steep hill at 20 mph, would I be able to roll out of it with no harm done to my body? I don't know.

The road was small and trying, but it was a great downhill ride and soon took me around cliffs that looked upon the ocean sunset view that was descending on the towns I have for two years called home. Just as I had hoped, the road led down deep into the mountains, back into the forest. A sign appeared and civilization again encroached on my view. But there were rundown shacks. In the woods I saw what was a medium sized home with a chimney smoking. Then a large stone torii, gate signifying the entrance to a shrine appeared before me. Just what I was looking for! Strange mountain shrines. Sure enough, two weathered guardian statues were on the side of the small road and led up stone stairs. I walked up to find a very old shrine. For small shrines in the country this one was impressive, but barred for some reason. Was it to keep out uninvited guests? Maybe it was under construction. As usual, I had no idea, and just marveled at the architecture and the Chinese characters I couldn't read written on the stone statues.

I went further down the road and found a large tomb of sorts. This was really impressive, but what was it doing in the middle of nowhere? What kind of person would be buried here? A farmer? A priest? Most likely the tomb was for a family instead of a single person.
The trail of civilization stopped after the grave for ten minutes until I began seeing rice fields. In tiers upon tiers so deep in the mountains, it really does give me the feeling like I'm in some kind of fantasy story. Closer to the sea around the main cities there are uncountable amounts of rice fields. One would think that such small and secluded ones like these in the mountains would be unnecessary. Nevertheless, here they lay, tended to with the hard labor of Japan's aging population.

As I rode down I heard rustlings in the bushes around me and knew immediately that this was monkey territory. Further down the road I saw a few in the road, and a few on any concrete forms around the rice fields. Then more monkeys. About 50 yards ahead of me were probably 30 or 40 monkeys. By far the biggest monkey party I've ever seen. I took a few pictures, but they noticed me quickly and more of them dispersed every second I watched them. When I rode by them, all the young ones scattered, but the old ones would just stand their ground a safe distance on the side of the road and watch me pass by.

At the bottom of the rice fields I finally saw the end of a small town that I assumed was Kareisawa. This was my goal, and it didn't disappoint. Other than the most famous old-style Japanese villages that are preserved as World Heritage Sites and removed from a normal functional life, this was the most old-fashioned village I have seen. I imagine the small town looked no different fifty or sixty years ago. The only differences were new cars parked in driveways and the occasional drink vending machine. The funny thing about the cars is that other than the small white farmer trucks characteristic to Japan, most cars are less than five years old. Maybe in the U.S. in a place like this you'd find lots of old trucks and beater cars, but it's completely different here. For an American, this is a pretty strange sight until you get used to it.

As I rode through town I saw a few people who were slowly working in the rice fields. People that wouldn't look any different a few hundred years ago I would imagine. With modern jobs and diets and hobbies and fashions, the Japanese body has changed considerably since the Meiji Era, and especially since the production of mass processed food, but that means nothing to the people living here. Perhaps they will be the last generation of such a lifestyle. I was welcomed with gaping stares, ones even more pronounced than I usually get in town, but that's no surprise. I wonder if I am the first gaijin they have ever seen in this area. When I first started going on these trips, I would return to my friends exclaiming the strange wonders I found in the mountains and was sure I was going to start a chain reaction of gaijin headed out to rediscover these oddities, but people usually lost interest after 30 seconds. I have never had a conversation longer than two minutes about these adventures despite my genuine efforts.

"Hey man, what did you do today?"

"Dude! I rode my bike into the mountains and saw some crazy shit!"

"Really? Where'd you go?"

"First I rode my bike up to Niikawa Ranch ..."

"You rode your bike up to the ranch?"

"Yeah, on my chari. Then I went up towards Shinrin Koen forest park in the mountains ... have you heard of it?"

"Uhhh ..."

"And then I rode down this tiny road and found gravesites and shrines in the forest."

"Uh-huh."

"And then went down to this secluded town called Kareisawa in the mountains. It looked like something straight out of Last Samurai!"

"Where?"

"Kareisawa! Dude it's just inland from Uozu."

"Uozu?"

"Yeah, where you live!"

"Oh. Crazy ..."

Most gaijin here own a car, don't often talk to Japanese if they don't have to, and only know the main highway that runs through the prefecture along with its convenience stores and gas stations and cheap restaurants that run along it. I think most opinions from the gaijin community of Toyama are pretty low, because it is in the country and has crappy weather. Good thing I like the country and don't mind crappy weather if I can make these kinds of trips into the mountains whenever I have the time.

This kind of trip would usually end with onsen, but it was Saturday which meant aikido. I had little time before, but the last thing I ate was an English muffin and fried egg about 6 hours earlier that day, so I stopped to get a giant plate of chahan (fried rice) before practice. I was starving, thirsty, and exhausted and could care less about the impending stomach ache I was about to have after rolling around and being thrown by my friends. I did in fact make it to aikido, and did in fact get a stomach ache that I somehow managed to control until I returned home. I don't even remember what I did after that, but probably went out to a bar or went to play poker. I can't believe it's taken me so long to start these adventures this year, but you can bet I'll be doing whatever possible to keep them coming until the snows in winter.

Aikido's Affect on Teaching English

2011-07-03T11:54:00.005+09:00

Because I'm leaving my current school in about a month, things are starting to come to an end and goodbyes are being made. This is a picture of me with my 2nd year seikan students. Can you tell which one is me? I'll give you a hint ... I'm the only one that's not a 17 year old Japanese girl in a school uniform.

At my high school there are three kinds of classes: futsuuka which is general course students who will most likely go on to academic universities, doboku which is civil engineering and is more vocational in nature and 99% all boys, and then there's seikan, which is homemaking and 99% girls and they ... will be homemakers? When asked what they want to do when they grow up for work many of them say they want to be pre school teachers or hair stylists or patissiers, which is pretty smart because they will always need more of all of those in Japan. Anyway, it was announced that this was my last class with them so the Japanese teacher asked if any of the students had messages for me. It was dead quiet, then turned into giggling, and at the end of class we took a picture and I got about 10 notes from the students they had written and folded into origami hearts.

Oh yeah ... aikido ... I got a bit distracted there. Aikido's affect on teaching. I actually really don't have much to say on this topic except I think it works against school systems a bit. In aikido you're working with one person at a time and so a lot is based on a teacher/student relationship. Furthermore, that relationship is experienced on a lot of instinctive and physical levels beyond mere oral communication. English is no different ... not at all. Sure there's the mental processes of using a language, but then there's the whole realm of the experience of having a conversation which plays a part. For example, who you are talking with, who you are yourself, where you are, why you are talking, emotional states, past experiences, etc. In aikido it's obvious that each situation is different though you may be doing the same technique you've done thousands of times, and so you need to adjust to this accordingly to each scenario. For me teaching English, that means I want to communicate with each student, which means I would teach different to every student. But in a class of 40 students in an hour once a week, that's a little difficult. Also, it doesn't help that the motivation for teaching English to Japanese students is primarily to do well on college entrance exams, which is more learning complex sentence structures and less functional conversation. Furthermore, because of a million different reasons, most students do not want to learn English. I guess I'm the answer to these problems of teaching English in Japan. I'm a young American used to get kids interested in English and help students with conversation. However, I'm often times more like a poster on a wall than a living person who can communicate with people.

I've kind of got off track here and I don't want this to become a rant about the shortcomings of mainstream education. My point is, learning in aikido happens on a very personal and situational level between teacher and student, and so when I try to bring this in the classroom I start focusing in independent students instead of the group, I change a little bit between each student, and I do whatever it takes to get the student to understand and be enthusiastic, which is arguably the most difficult. Also, I've found that after two years teaching, I've started doing the big "No-No" which is speaking Japanese in the classroom when I want to get my point across.

But my primary concern is communication. If the students have absolutley no idea what I say, then they'll be confused and probably feel subconscious about that, so, sometimes I whip out the Japanese, which they love from time to time because they get to see me struggling with a foreign language. Basically, the biggest block I run into with teaching English is student's low level of confidence. Before they can really start learning and using English at a good pace, then they need to get past that. It's like trying to teach people high falls in aikido when they're afraid of doing a simple front roll! Or maybe showing someone how to do a technique by lecturing for 20 minutes, give them one chance to do it right, and if they don't then tell them to try harder or study more.

Perhaps it's a good thing that in my next job it will just be me with about 5 students at a time doing whatever to get the students to speak English.

The other night I was in the "strange" aikido class and sensei was trying to explain something very important. That a lot of young people's strength is dependent on muscle strength, but really, it's not all that strong. In aikido we use a different kind of strength ... but what kind of strength sensei was calling it I didn't know. I thought I understood the concept pretty well, but I didn't know the word and sometimes the specific meaning really makes a difference. So, I went home and looked it up ... but couldn't find the word! I asked a teacher the next day and she gave an answer that didn't seem to match. So the next night I went back to aikido and after class I got out my dictionary and said "Sensei! I couldn't find the word in the dictionary," and I motioned for him to find it for me and he said, "It's too small, I can't read it," in a dismissive fashion. I had one of the other students help me find it and it was exactly what my English teacher had told me earlier, "concentration" ... shuuchuu suru. I was confused, and then just frustrated because it's another very important word to aikido that just isn't quite in English. Perhaps a good translation would be "structural strength" or ... mmm I don't know really. The kind of strength that doesn't dwindle away when you get older, but may increase because you are more comfortable in your body and if you do aikido you'll have more experience in dealing with other people's bodies in movement.

Anyway, afterwards I said to sensei, "Japanese is hard."

"Yes, it is."

"Which do you think is harder? Aikido or Japanese?"

"Definitely aikido."

"Why?"

"Because you can only learn aikido from someone who is good at it and it takes many many years."

Ahhhh sensei, I'm kind of disappointed in you! Surely there are differences, but in reality, you can't just learn a language from studying alone and it certainly takes many many years to be "fluent" ... just like being "good" in aikido, but in both worlds training is never complete. Also, if you never speak a language with native speakers, it will never be quite right. I wish all of the English teachers at school would try and practice aikido and I sometimes wish I could put sensei in a room full of only-English-speakers for an hour and see how he likes it. Hehe, funny stuff. I'm glad I get to suffer and benefit from the experiences I choose.

Lazy Aikidoka

2011-06-29T11:13:00.003+09:00

The other day I left school to get some lunch at a nearby bakery during one of my free periods. I wasn't really feeling particularly lazy at that time, but the glare of the sun on my eyes which had been stuck within school walls for four hours was making me fix a pretty mean stare while I walked down the street. Also, the heat was just enough to form small beads of sweat on my forearms where my shirtsleeves were rolled up. Like I said, I wasn't feeling particularly lazy, but the environment was making my body conserve energy and preventing any semblance of a pep in my step. Then, a gust of wind came and flipped my tie over my shoulder. It was more matter of fact than annoying and I took a few moments before doing anything about it. My pace went unchanged and I kind of just laughed at how funny I might look. But here's where the aikido comes in; when I reached my hand up to put the tie back in its proper place in front of me, I didn't really "reach" for it. Instead, my hand just was there. ...

This isn't meant to be some kind of hallucination I was having or my attempt to mystify anything involved with aikido or myself ... but the way I fixed my tie seemed extremely relevant to my aikido training.

When I say, "I reached to fix my tie", I think of raising my hand in front of me, bringing the elbow up, and engaging my shoulder muscles; much like an upper-cut elbow strike. Maybe I would even reach all the way up to my other shoulder and grab the tie around the middle and flip it back over. But what I did instead was, without engaging my shoulder muscles at all, or moving my elbow from its place next to my body, I raised my limp hand to just below my collar where the base of the tie was, and with the tip of two fingers and in one swipe raked downwards letting my hand fall, bringing the tie back to its natural state.

See the difference? If you're wearing a tie right now I recommend you give this scenario a try to see if you can feel the difference.

Oh wait ... I haven't even made a connection with aikido yet in this elaborate story of me fixing my tie. Can you see what I'm getting at though with this???

In aikido with my sensei, we're trying to execute movements with the least amount of stress in our bodies while maintaining strong form. I'd say this is a pretty common theme in aikido or any skilled martial arts for that matter ... but are we often thinking about this in our practice? I'd even say that it doesn't happen all the time in mine or with my sensei, though I think it should be employed as much as possible.

Of the four nights I practice aikido here, three of them focus on practicing basic techniques: the basic techniques that you'll find in just about every aikido affiliated dojo and are the curriculum for tests. On those nights, I'd say the goal is to be able to do each technique properly according to your own potential ... but if you're not very good, then I think there's a lot of steps to put together before you start focusing on relaxing your body as much as possible.

Is that backwards to some of your methods? Are you wondering why one would focus on something else other than the final goal which is relaxed movement? Well, it's not just relaxed movement, it's relaxed movement in martial techniques. If your goal is to be as relaxed as possible then maybe you should just go take a nap or something.

I'm diverting a bit ... OK ... so ... three nights a week is focusing on basic technique where relaxation is not necessarily the primary focus. But, one night a week we have a smaller class where sensei has us work on some other things that maybe other aikido dojos don't. There, we are doing aikido, and it is most often based off basic techniques, but about 90% of the time it's hard to make that connection by seeing alone. In this class, if you are not executing the techniques with complete relaxation in your body, then you can't do the techniques. It is in this class that I have made huge progress in not uneccessarily using shoulder muscles, separating my elbows from positions where I would need to engage the shoulders, and maintaining relaxed and heavy hands.

This is what I did when I fixed my tie: absolute minimal effort and maximum relaxation to complete a tangible physical goal. I've also noticed that when using my hands to manipulate things for other mundane tasks like grabbing or nudging something I employ this kind of body movement.

To further explain this type of "lazy aikido" body movement, I'd like to share with you a story from last week's "strange" class. (Maybe I'll call that one night a week class where we work on the more unorthodox stuff the "strange" class from now on.) The past couple weeks I've been busier than ever at school as we approach final exams and I somehow got convinced to extend English club for another day after school. Also, I've been job searching/finding and trying to prepare for a big move that will create huge changes in my daily life which is taxing a lot of my mental and physical energy. Through this, I've tried to keep aikido my sole pillar of stability and have been going as much as possible. But I've also been getting less sleep and stressing my body more which antagonizes everything making aikido just a bit harder to get to. Due to these circumstances, I was running a little late to the "strange" class which means I missed a car ride with sensei and instead rode my granny bike for 45 minutes to the next town over.

When I arrived at class I was incredibly exhausted; physically but even more so mentally. Regardless, I was absolutley elated to be at the dojo warming up while I watched the others start class. On the brink of delusional bliss, if you will. When I joined the others on the mat, I had zero extra energy to move or talk uneccessarily. I couldn't do anything except just stare at sensei doing the techniques and then try to copy them as best as possible. When I went to the front of the line to try the first technique myself, sensei walked up to grab my hand, I tried to move into the right technique, and he just stood there unnaffected while staring and smiling at the shoulder I was trying to flex in order to move my hand. He just shook his head. I laughed and tried it on the next person; unsuccessfully. Then the next and the next and then it was someone elses turn. I didn't even realize it at the time, but now I'm actually pretty impressed by my lack of "overcompensation" if I do say so myself. Maybe at an earlier time in this same situation my mind would flare up: "HOW DO YOU DO THIS TECHNIQUE?!?!?!" My emotions: "Why is sensei being such a dick?" And my body as well; when being met with sensei's strong grip, just flail my shoulder and use my strength to get him on the ground. Instead, I laughed at myself and moved on to trying it on the other partners. When it was their turn, I stared in complete fascination to the workings of the technique; but what I really saw was a lot of mistakes.

It is blaringly obvious that in these "strange" classes, sensei is trying to get us to move so as to not use strength against strength. But often times our efforts devolve to working with the goal of class on the other three nights of the week, which is simply executing the technique. That doesn't fly here during "strange" nights. You might be getting your partner to the end of the technique without doing it properly, but if you're lucky, sensei won't budge and will make your weaknesses blaringly obvious. There's one particular blackbelt who is always trying to overcompensate and finish the technique, but makes it a blundering mess, though he does get his partner on the ground. Sensei corrects him here and there, but won't make a fuss about it and definitely doesn't stress himself by repeating the same hints over and over and over again. When I look at this particular blackbelt, I see sincere training, but he's making very slow progress because I don't think he sees exactly what sensei is trying to teach us. I, on the other hand, made phenomenal improvement going from not doing the technique at all to getting people on the floor with little uneccessary effort. This made sensei very happy and the other blackbelts very confused because this lowly shiroebi was doing what they couldn't.

I don't mean to be coming of as arrogant in any way in relaying my stories and impressions. The day after that particular class I went to school and told the story to my advisor and best friend at work, but after I said the words, "I was doing better than the other blackbelts in class last night ..." he stopped listening to me right there before I got to the "whys" and "hows" and was somehow stuck on that initial phrase.

Who knows what he was thinking when I continued telling the story, but I don't think it was about the details of my story.

Who knows what that blackbelt is thinking when he's doing technique, but I don't think it's what sensei is trying to teach him.

What was I thinking about when I did an aikido technique on my neck tie?

Probably about how unbearably hot it's going to get here in Toyama in about a month's time.

"Japan: Part II" Coming Out Soon!

2011-06-19T21:28:00.002+09:00

This country boy is goin to the big city!

I had an interview with a children's eikaiwa school to teach English in Toyama City a couple days ago, and yesterday I got word that they want me to work for them ... YATTA!

Since about a month ago when I decided that I wanted to stay in Japan, my mind has taken my young impressionable mind far across the cosmos of possibility. The void is infinite indeed. But now, somehow, I've found something solid to stand upon. Now, as much as I can possibly know, I will be continuing my life here in Toyama, Japan a while longer. My current contract with the JET Program teaching English in a high school ends August 2nd, then I got to a two week teacher training in Nagoya on the 22nd, and after that, I'll be in Toyama City.

How much will things change? Can I continue the things I love now? Will I find something new?

Those are pretty silly questions.

It's funny now that I'm finally beginning to feel free in Kurobe, and soon I will be leaving. It is only just before we die that we realize how cool this deal is ne?

Mock death. A new chapter. A fold in the katana. ...

Just life unfolding like a paper crane returning to it's orignal square paper shape.

Aikido IS the most practical martial art! & I fixed the comment issue

2011-06-14T21:23:00.003+09:00

Look at these two nice guys trying to shake hands. That's certainly something I try to do more often than break someone's ribs with a reverse punch or cut through something with a katana.

Hehe, just a little fun.

I'm very interested in those latter skills, but really, aikido helps me more in my daily life significantly more than other martial arts I have encountered. Perhaps it's just the experiences I've had, or the time in my life, but aikido is giving me a great mat area to practice core principles that I encounter all the time out on the street.

One that I'm thinking of right now is just simple people to people interaction. In aikido with your partner, you work actively together to reach a conclusion. If one person doesn't do anything, nothing happens. Unless you're just practicing punching things and you nail the person. So in a conversation, what would this be akin to? First, two people just standing there doing nothing. Next, would be one person doing nothing, and one person doing all the work ... work that probably dominates and hurts the partner if the action is followed through with realistic intent ... which is important when practicing practical martial arts, no? Maybe both people could just rail into each other with all their strength trying to dominate the other ... what kind of conversation is that? Maybe ask the dudes who yell at two bloodied fighters through a big 'ol TV screen. I'll be bold enough to say that the particular role of uke in aikido makes for a great interaction between two active participants. Looking for something of substance; movement that has serious causes and affects in body mechanics throughout evolving circumstances that give the ability of but not requiring physically destructive damage.

Perhaps there's another analogy with makes things really funny concerning aikido. How about two people getting together acting a scene out pretending to be mastering the phenomenon of cause and effect by following a pre-played script ... and dressing up and using foreign languages to enhance it's visual appeal?

Thank you for indulging more analogies and metaphors rank with generalizations that have probably already been said elsewhere.

OH! I finally fixed my comment problem, and it was just as J.C. said ... even though I just glossed over it and spent way too much time under my account settings looking for something more fancy. I feel like I just spent an hour staring at my taxes reading the fine print of something totally unrelated, when I should have just answered the questions it asked me. Maybe there will be a post concerning the affect of aikido on simplified problem solving.

Rick: Don't hesitate to leave comments like you have. They turn it all upside down for me and in a good direction every time. Thanks for the time.

Rebound

2011-06-13T18:46:00.004+09:00

Rebound: rediscovering what you had ... getting up.

About a month ago I went to a training where it was only Ueno-san and I for the whole hour and a half, and the most important topic we went over was "rebound." We were doing just a normal version of koto-gaeshi, a technique I've done before, but it had been a while so it was super sloppy and I forgot a couple things in it. I said, "I forgot!" And Ueno-san said, "Daijobu Zac-san ... rebound." This word she said in English fit perfectly. After a few more reps, I successfully "rebounded" about to my prior ability, and we were happy to rebound together.

Aikido and other martial arts give us such a good example of this concept in life, but it really is nothing compared to the real thing ... life, that is.

Right?

Every day is a whole new opportunity to ... well ... not quite fit the ideal situation, isn't it? There's obviously a multitude of ways we can do this ... but today I was musing about one particular type of blundering. When something is given to you, a situation, a present, a person ... just right there in front of you, and all you have to do is do it, or take it ... but you don't! Instead of just naturally reaching out to accept it, thinking starts and things can get really cloudy and complicated. Maybe you walk away, back to somewhere safe where you can have all the time and darkness you want to let the demons drag you across the daggers.

Strange humans.

In my current understanding, if this happens, there's nothing that can be done to reverse it. All we can do is try to learn from any apparent mistakes, and get back to rebound as fast as you can, but not in a hurry of course.

Gotta go to practice now.

3 Things I'm Keeping in Mind

2011-06-10T15:40:00.003+09:00

Aside from all of the details of technique and usual things we ought to be mindful of in our aikido practice, I have three things in particular I'm trying adhere to on my own agenda.

1.) Paying attention through the whole waza.

This is funny because you think you'd naturally have to pay attention in the middle of a technique, but most of the time actually, I'm somewhere completely else, or just blacked out in the middle of techniques, whether I'm the tori or the uke. I've been trying to be careful of this for a while, and so before a technique I'll say, "OK, gaijin, just try and pay attention through the whole technique." Then two seconds into it I'm thinking about a beer or the next episode of Game of Thrones (awesome new HBO show ... heard of it?) OR, I completely blackout in a way and just find myself on the ground after someone throws me. So, I've found two things that help with this: one is to breath through the technique and not hold your breath, and two is to keep your eyes open. Often times I might hold my breath and close my eyes ... but then I'm somewhere else and not doing as good a job as I could.

2.) Executing good zanshin.

My interpretation of zanshin here could be considered a kind of follow through ... but lasts even beyond the physical movement. It means having a strong final stance after the move or throw, and continuing watching the opponent, and possibly continuing moving towards him for another attack. This is something that my sensei doesn't bug us about very often, but if you want to have it, you gotta be paying attention. All of the students in my dojo certainly know about it, but most people never show it, and sensei doesn't point it out. But, I feel it makes my technique and intent a hundred times better ... so I'm trying to pay attention to this point. Also, this isn't just while you're the tori, but also when you're being thrown as the uke. Too often I find myself coming back up in a sit-up-like action which puts my head right in front of someone's knee. Be mindful of this all the time.

3.) Trying to feel my partner's heartbeat.

This is kind of a weird one, but one that's really got my attention and is fun to try. When I grab someone for a wristgrab, I'll try and secretly feel their heartbeat through the technique. It's kind of tricky and I'm not sure if it helps anything, but like I said, fun to try. I first noticed it with one of the very skillful higher dans who is a fairly petite girl, I grabbed her wrist and felt her heartbeat and the first thing I thought of was the small beatings of a swallow's heart.

So, yeah ... I think my aikido will improve if I can do these three things consistently.

My Sensei is a Whale & Comment Issues

2011-06-08T14:25:00.001+09:00

In "Eastern" martial arts, it is very common to have styles or techniques named after particular animals. Or at least have metaphors and stories about animals. Well, through all the dragons, tigers, cranes, snakes, etc ... I'd say my sensei most resembles a whale.

Ha! Do you teachers out there wish to be likened to a whale by your aspiring students? Well, in my eyes it's a great compliment.

I get this whale-ish feeling from my sensei because when you practice a move with him, he flows around very substantially, but at the same time very smoothly, just as a large whale swims through the ocean.

But then, when he decides to finish the technique and put force into it, it's like your being absolutley crushed by an enormous whale.

I can't remember a single time in practicing techniques with him that I could have ever competed with him using strength. We're just about the same height, and he may have 10 pounds on me, but put us in a weight room and I'm sure I could outlift him. Regardless of this, everytime he decides to put me down, it's like I'm being thrown around by a giant whale.

For three obvious factors of how he is able to do this, I'd say he:

1.) only exerts force when he is in a superior position to do so,

2.) has a great ability to "root" (or be strong and stable in stance),

3.) flows smoothly through transitions.

There you have it, my sensei the whale.

Also, I've been having some issues with my blog concerning comments. I can't leave comments on my own or anybody else's blog. When I try to do so by going to a comment page, it logs me out. I'm looking in to how to fix it, but if any of you bloggers have encountered this before and have an answer, I'd love to hear about it. I've got some really good comments on the last few posts and would love to answer ... as well as post on your blogs as well, but just haven't been able to. Wish me luck in untangling the knots of TechWorld ... I feel kind of like a whale stuck in a monkey puzzle tree.

Micchaku: Sticking in Aikido

2011-06-02T09:06:00.007+09:00

Micchaku - 密着: close adherence (to), stick (fast) ((to)), adhere ((to))

The first time I came across any concept of "sticking" in the martial arts was fortunately with my first sensei in Hawaiian Kenpo, but I don't remember it being much of a main theme, and it didn't really "stick" well in my mind at the time. Then I started Tai Chi Chuan where it was one of the main principles my teachers used in training. Now in aikido, it is one of the biggest themes ... sometimes. I say this because three out of the four days of the week, we practice kihon waza (basic techniques) and we usually end up focusing on specific techniques and more basic features of movements. However, on Wednesdays we have a smaller group and in that class we work more on concepts like sticking. During these Wednesday classes we use the kihon waza as a base, but this is where our sensei works on things that maybe other dojos don't always focus on.

Anyway, micchaku: sticking. Sensei gave us an interesting example last night of sticking and not-sticking. When someone grabs your wrist, a karate-ka might flex their hand and spread their fingers wide apart to loosen the opponent's grip and more easily break away. This is exactly what I learned when I first started in Hawaiian Kenpo. However, in aikido, what we aim to do in a lot of our techniques is the complete opposite; stick and connect with the partner to continue a technique.

Well, then let's physically do the complete opposite action with our hand.

Instead of going from relaxed to flexed,

let's go from semi-flexed to relaxed.

When we try the first method flexing our hands, it makes it easier to break away from the opponent. But when we try the latter option of relaxing our hand upon being grabbed it makes it ... harder for the opponent to let go (?)

This is probably the number one concept my sensei works on in the Wednesday classes. When I first saw it, this was a completely unknown concept and I kind of just stared wide-eyed at it trying to figure it out. A year later of Wednesday practices, I still stare wide-eyed at it trying to figure it out, but I can feel a complete difference when sensei does this and when he doesn't.

It's not magic, but it's definitely not easy to explain, and my sensei says at least once every Wednesday practice that he doesn't understand exactly how it works, but it does somehow.

Furthermore, why don't you try for yourself? Hold out your hand and flex it (a lot or a little, both have the same effect). Then, relax your fingers.

Anything interesting?

When you do it, (or stop doing "it" [having tension in your hand]) it takes the tension out of your arm as well as your hand. So the action can be physically seen in the arm as you get a very slight bend in the elbow with the motion. By taking the stress out of your hand, you take the stress out of your arm, shoulder, and potentially the rest of your body, while allowing your opponent to grab deeper into your wrist (try grabbing your own wrist when your hand is flexed, and then when it's relaxed and see), AND THEN ... you get good aikido-sticking as taught by my sensei. When you have all of these small parts aligned, you have kokyuu, when you have this kokyuu, ki can manifest.

There you go, a lowly shiroebi trying to explain the most complex of aikido concepts taught by my sensei.

I should also add, that when we apply this relaxation-of-the-hand-for-better-sticking in techniques, it is used in accordance with proper timing. Often with beginners, we'll practice wrist-techniques after the contact: partner grabs wrist in a static position, then you start the technique. Sometimes for fun we'll practice certain techniques without making physical contact until the very end. But generally, especially in the Wednesday classes, we start the technique upon shunkan, 瞬間, the precise moment of contact, increasing our stickiness going from slight tension in the hand to relaxed. So, we may start a technique with the hand having slight tension, and at the very moment our partner grabs our hand and increases pressure on the wrist, we reciprocally relax our hand, and move into the technique, more-effectively sticking to our opponent.

At one point during the training, sensei demonstrated this, and asked of if we understood, and he found us all just standing there staring at our hands as we flexed and unflexed them in silence. It was pretty funny. I wonder if people in the office or in the street notice me staring at my hand flexing it and unflexing it with a perplexed look on my face.

I was having a bit of trouble with this last night, and ended up getting a little frustrated. When people notice this in training (this is probably a universal concept but I think it's exaggerated in Japanese social settings), it got infinitely harder. I would screw up, and sensei would say:

"Relax." ("reraksu", in my sensei's impeccable command of English).

I'd rationally and calmly say, OK and try it again.

"No, no, no, RERAKSU!"

I'd say, OK, and try it again, and then the other students would say:

"Zac-san, reraksu!"

"Holy flipping monkey balls, I'm doing the best I can!"

Well, it's what I thought at least.

This is not good. When someone starts getting frustrated in class, sensei and everyone else has a way of just targeting it, spotlighting it, and making everything 100x more awkward. This is something I personally feel like I really need to keep in check, because I think it's why sensei "excused" Hosogoshi from practice. Hosogoshi was trying too hard, and getting frustrated. Little by little over time I guess it got to be too regular, sensei tried to fix it in a roundabout way, Hosogoshi didn't do it, and then they clashed, and now Hosogoshi doesn't come to class.

In the car ride home, I indirectly brought up the frustrations of not understanding and trying to get it right, and sensei said his number two or three favorite thing to say which is:

"It's perfectly OK if you don't understand. It's perfectly OK if you can't do it right. That's good! It's when you think you are doing it right that you have a big problem."

I know that if I'm treading thin ice with sensei, if I can say this with sincerity it will make him happy. But this poses huge problems with me. I wanted to tell him that I guess that's OK for now because I'm just a beginner essentially, but I want to get good ... that's why I practice!

Uh-oh. Here's the problem. I asked Sensei what is the most important thing about training aikido, and he answered that the most important thing is having fun. "If you have fun with your training, then you will build interest in it, you will practice with enthusiasm, you will practice often." "... and get good???" I was thinking. He still didn't seem to follow this route. So, according to his advice, I just need to have fun in aikido. I understand ... very deeply and accurately I think (maybe that's the problem) that fun is the most important ... BUT I WANT TO GET GOOD! After having 8 years experience in martial arts, crossing hands with various practitioners of martial arts, I consider him one of the best I've met. How did he do it? Seriously he holds "being good at" something with some respect and hopes to teach it to his students. How does one not fall into some trap of practicing aikido for so many years but never getting good ... like he has criticized other aikido teachers of doing so before?

I wanted to ask him, "Alright, then what about people who practice aikido for 50 years, and have fun, but aren't any good at all?" Isn't that a bad thing? Well, our time in the car was up and conversation had already shifted, so I'll have to ask or just ponder this on my own, which I have done too much in the past 12 hours.

OK, let's try. "What about people who practice aikido for 50 years, and have fun, but aren't any good at all?"

[The answer I think someone "wise" would say:]

1.) It doesn't matter because they had fun and that's most important.
2.) Maybe 50 years isn't enough to be "good" at aikido.

3.) It depends on your standards of what is "good" aikido.

[My initial response:]

1.) Well, whatever, as long as you're having fun then all else can go to hell I guess.

2.) 50 years isn't good enough to be good at aikido? Fine, I'll practice 100.

3.) "Good" aikido is being able to apply the techniques to real life physical conflicts with uncooperative opponents.

[My response after calming down and being "rational":]
1.) Maybe I should take this statement of the importance of fun with a little more sincerity and just have fun.

2.) Maybe I should just keep doing aikido if I like it and not worry about "how long it takes" to get "good".

3.) If I'm concerned about dominating physical situations as soon as possible, then maybe I should study some other martial art.

Silly shiroebi.

(shiro-ebi, white shrimp)

But really though, is there anything more annoying than someone saying "Just relax", when you want to relax and just can't find a way to make it happen? Or someone saying "Just have fun", when you know you're supposed to be having fun but just can't make it happen?

Big Changes While MIA

2011-06-01T11:03:00.005+09:00

It's been quite a while now since I last particpated in the blogosphere, and it's time to get back on it. However, much has changed since posting last.

To write frankly, Jolene, my girlfriend of four years and I have separated and I will not be returning to the U.S. Instead, I will stay in Japan, hopefully in Toyama where I am now, and continue teaching English, practicing aikido, and exploring unknown regions of Japan (myself included). That much will remain the same, but the means by which I do so will drastically shift. Logistically, I will finish my contract with the JET Program in early August and will most likely leave my small town of Kurobe. Lately I've been job hunting, and soon I will be having interviews. Most likely, I will move to Toyama City, about 30 minutes away by train, and start a new job teaching English.

So there it is. It seems my time is not done here in Japan.

So much has happened psychologically and emotionally over the past month. Of course it would yield to interesting and dramatic stories, (which is what writing is about isn't it?) But this blog is no place to address such issues at this time. Instead, during this time of uncertainty over the next couple months, where I really don't know exactly if and how I can stay in Toyama, I will go to as much aikido as possible and continue whatever kind of routine I've found myself in going into the summer. I look forward to resuming consistent blogging of strange things in Japan, which is a common occurence when you're gaijin ... people are strange ... when you're a stranger ...

Into the forge we go,

naked we receive burning embers and smashings from the smith.

How we come out will soon be revealed.

Jousei Holiday!

2011-04-30T18:58:00.002+09:00

That's another one my English Japanese jokes that nobody has laughed at yet. Jousei means female, and holiday is of course, a holiday.

Why would I think of such a phrase? Because that's what I'm going to be doing for the next three weeks! Tomorrow I'm going to Tokyo to meet my mom who is coming to Japan for two weeks. We're going to spend two nights in Tokyo, one night in Koya-san (famous Buddhist mountain temple complex in the Kii Penninsula), three nights in Kyoto, and then come back to Kurobe. AND THEN... the next night, Jolene my amazing and wonderful girlfriend is joining us for two weeks as well. Thats one week traveling with my mom, one week with both Jolene and my mom, and then one week with just Jolene. Am I ready for all this jousei??? Oh yeah. I'm feeling pretty lucky. But this means no posting probably for three weeks. Well, maybe I can pop in for a quick word or two here and there, but there won't be much aikido though. I definitely want to show my mom aikido though by bringing her to the dojo to watch practice one night.

So yeah ... ittekimasu!

Lesson 35: A Night for the Whities!

2011-04-29T13:50:00.002+09:00

This was definitely the funniest practice ever.

It was Sensei, Ueno-san for blackbelts, and then me, two lower ranking white belts, and one girl who had just started a week ago. When someone new comes in, sensei and Ueno-san take times working them one-on-one for a couple weeks on the side until they feel like they're ready to keep up in the main group. So, for the first hour or so it was us three whities with sensei and the new girl with Ueno-san.

I guarantee you have never seen so many strange awkward movements and positions ever done in the guise of aikido ever. One of the other whities has been training for a couple months, but probably comes once or twice a week, and is, with no disrespect, one of the most awkward and less-inclined toward beautiful aikido movements people I've met. The other, is someone who started a couple months ago as well, and has for the past month been coming to every single practice and has started spending extra time with sensei doing kenpo ... but he is naother one of the most awkward people I've ever met ... again with absolutley no disrespect. And then there's me who, because physical movement through sports and martial arts has been the primary focus of my free time since I was 10 years old, only barely manages to rise above these other two, but it was definitely shown that I am very much still a humble whitey.

We would be doing really simple movements, but for throwing and being ukemi both, sensei was either dead silent or tersely commenting:

"What are you DOING?!?!?!?!"

"Sorry sorry sorry!"

"Other SIDE!"

"OK OK sorry."

"OTHER SIDE!!!"

"Ahhhh!!!"

"Like this!"

"Sorry!"

I couldn't count how many times I had to cover my mouth from revealing laughter at this entertainment. And niether could Ueno-san from the other side of the mat when she peeked over from time to time.

Eventually we switched to having Ueno-san working with us and sensei with the new girl, but it was more of the same. I don't know which was funnier: sensei in all is skill and glory working with us who were so comedically incapable, or tiny Ueno-san wiping us all with the mat.

Sensei's not one to let a dry joke end, so we ended up practicing an extra twenty minutes past the end time, seemingly to Ueno-san's slight dismay and the other white belts elongated embarrassment ... but I absolutley loved every second of it. It's definitely one of the most memorable and most fun practices I've had.

In the end, on of the white belts said, "Gee, that must have been really boring for sensei." But I told him that I felt this is one of the best experiences to have as a white belt from time to time, and I had a lot of fun." I know everyone was having fun for the most part, and I am so grateful to sensei and Ueno-san ... and every other highly skilled practitioner who will continually and unconditionally offer their teaching to whoever shows up.

Thanks everyone.

This was a night for the shiro-ebi.

Anyone laughing???

This is one of my favorite original Japanese-English jokes I've come up with.

White belt in Japanese is shiro-obi ... but there's a famous shrimp here in Toyama called shiro-ebi ... white shrimp. So I always call myself a lowly shiro-ebi ... but Japanese rarely laugh at this joke, I don't know why because I think it's brilliant.

Lesson 34: Not From A Book

2011-04-27T21:59:00.002+09:00

My sensei doesn't think you can learn aikido from a book. With him it's always "kankaku de ... kankaku de ..." By feeling ... by feeling. Tonight I was able to make a connection between this inclination and his disrespect of another sensei in Toyama prefecture by listening to some stories about how my sensei learned aikido. It answered a lot of personal questions I had about him.

For the past year, there's been attempts at uniting all the aikido dojos in Toyama under a certain Toyama Federation of Aikido, and sensei has been to a few meetings about it, but he has always been more than a bit unconcerned about it. I wondered why at first, and thought it was just a Japanese way to handle things for someone of some status ... taking a long time and a bit reluctantly.

Since I started aikido, I slowly learned that my sensei and Ueno-san (who just received her godan [fifth degree blackbelt] by the way) started training together about 20 years ago in Toyama City. They have trained together non-stop since then. When I asked why they still don't train in Toyama City with the same teacher, Ueno-san always says that he's not very good.

In a month or two, that teacher in Toyama City is having a bit of a get-together/seminar which may possibly include things about the Toyama Aikido Federation, and Sensei includes news about it often in his post-class news bulletin. He brings it up often to let people know, but he's not going, and always seems to play it down less than a little bit. Often in the Wednesday when we're working on more advanced stuff in small groups and get talking about "kankaku" (learning by feeling), he'll bring up this Toyama City teacher and say that his dojo doesn't do it at all. Slowly, I've been asking more information about this other sensei, and one particular thing that has come up a lot is that the other sensei doesn't do anything with a ken or jo (wooden sword and short staff), and is lacking a great facet of understanding the workings of aikido and whatnot. I'm forgetting now what other specific details Sensei compares his aikido to the other sensei's with.

But then tonight on the drive home, after a great Wednesday class, and we were talking about the different methods of training we use between Wednesday and Mondays and Thursdays and Saturdays. Basically, Wednesdays Mondays and Saturdays are "standard waza (technique)" training days, where we go over what could be considered the standard curriculum of aikido which should probably relate to all other aikikai dojos. But Wednesday is about more advanced techniques ... or not so much more advanced techniques, but a different way of seeing the same techniques in a way that is more difficult. Anyway ... I asked him if he got these Wednesday night methods from Kobayashi Sensei (who he claims to get the most influence and affiliate with the most and what is considered the Hombu Dojo), and he said no ... he mostly got it from various other teachers. I asked from what places in Japan and he named off some various places. Now I got really interested as I was starting to learn more specifics of my sensei's aikido past. Apparently, he started aikido (after doing Kenpo for a few years in college) in graduate school in Fukuoka for two years. Then after that, he came to Toyama to train with ...

THIS SENSEI HE SEEMS TO DESPISE until he was a nidan (second degree black belt)! (I put this in caps because when it was told in the story this is when I made the big connection between him and the other sensei in Toyama). In my mind, I had some image like he trained with Kobayashi Sensei for like 100 years or something and then met some other people blah blah blah, but it wasn't until after he was nidan that he met who he considers his main teacher. He said, when he became nidan, he felt he was better than his teacher who was a yondan (fourth degree black belt) at the time, and left to study under different people ... and actually now this part has become foggy again. He must have met Ueno-san during this time, but then went to study with Kobayashi Sensei, as well as meeting other extremely influential teachers in Osaka ... and probably way more other teachers that he doesn't think too highly of.

Mmmmm, more questions for Sensei...

Anyway, as for this other sensei in Toyama who was his teacher for a while ... how is it that he has trained for so long, and is looked down upon thusly by my teacher? Generally, my sensei said this was so because he learned everything from books he read, and not from a teacher.

This must be why he always comes back to "kankaku". This must be why, after my second month or so of training, I came to him with 6 books in Japanese about aikido that I had just ordered off amazon, and he wasn't very impressed. (All of which I planned to read. I've started one, which I've been doing for A LONG FRICKEN TIME very slowly and inconsistently and painfully and without yielding many useful gems about aikido ... but I do like this one in particular and have learned helpful terms in aikido ... but those other five will probably never be read by me ... anyway).

So yeah ... a lot of really valuable information came to me tonight in the last two minutes of the car ride of the night. Why he looks down on not learning by kankaku ... details about his aikido history ... and also a great night of training with thousands of other very kankaku-ish gems ... that I cannot explain.

Let's try one ...

You shouldn't use strength in aikido.

Lesson 33: Too much SUSHI!

2011-04-25T21:47:00.002+09:00

Tonight I ate too much sushi before practice.

It wasn't so much as too much sushi, just too much too close to the time where I roll around hundreds of times vigorously for two hours. Because aikido practice is conveniently right when I like to eat dinner, between 7:30 and 9:30, I have two mini dinners, one before and one after. Actually, it's more like a medium dinner before and a big dinner afterward. Usually my first dinner is around 5:30, but when I do sushi, it's never enough and I'm starving half way through practice, so tonight I ate around 6:30 tonight instead.

I knew right as I pulled up to the dojo on my mamachari (granny bike) that it was a bad idea. My stomach was too full to handle the next walk up the stairs. Anyway, I went on with it and went through stretching verrrrry slowly, trying to concentrate all my energy on digesting the food peacefully so that I could have a normal practice. About 15 minutes into practice, we started practicing normal techniques, and I thought I could wait after one round of a few minutes before I excused myself. We did sawari waza and it was alright, but every movement was one that made me clench my rear end just a little more. We finished, returned to watch sensei demonstrate the next technique, and there's very little else in the world that could have kept me from going to the bathroom than embarrassing myself by leaving in the middle of this part of practice. It was actually really bad. I tried to think of how a proper shodan should handle themself in this situation and use their discipline to take their mind of the bathroom for the two minutes it was needed, but the second sensei had us start the technique, I immediately fled into a brisk job across the gym by the karate class, past the parents watching, down the stairs while I undid my gi and belt, and began what was the second worst way I've ever started practice, which lasted about 20 minutes.

The first ... well that one's hard to beat. How about, before the second night I showed up to aikido ... the first night I participated ... I was looking around the supermarket for a small fruit drink and I found one ... one that also happened to be a laxative. I drank that minutes before putting on my gi for the first time to join aikido in Japan.

Lesson 32: Sometimes Words

2011-04-21T21:48:00.002+09:00

Being in Japan and not understanding so much Japanese, I've come to learn aikido mostly by "kankaku" (feeling/perception) and have grown to deem this mode of learning superior to words ... but those key words every while can really send things to a land of great understanding. Tonight, they were words I had alone with my Sensei before class. I actually showed up early because I saw him going over some Kenpo stuff with someone else last time, and I'm sure because the student is an eager early comer, so I thought I get in on some of the education. I showed up, and lo and behold, there sensei stood alone putting on his hakama. But we got started talking, and it really had little to do with aikido itself. But this 25 minute conversation we got to have before class really set some things straight with me, life, and inevitably but indirectly, aikido. It would be silly to think we should learn without using words, because we're humans, and that's what separates us from animals ... and the cultivation of beer. Speaking of ... time to do more non-aikido oriented activites that will enhance my ability in aikido.

Lesson 31: A Slight Emphasis on the Wrist

2011-04-18T21:47:00.003+09:00

A while ago I attempted to write an entry after every class under the varying titles of "Lesson X: blah blah blah", but it seemed to have dropped off because ... blah blah blah. It is difficult to do so everytime, but if there's anything my aikido has taught me, it's "bochi bochi" ... little by little. In fact, it reminds me off the first proverb I learned in Japanese, which I have also forgotten to think about, but its coming back ... "senri no michi mo ippo kara" ... A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. So let's call this large interim "Lesson 30.5: Small Accumulation" (Isn't there a chapter in the I-Ching called that? No rip-off intended). But without trying to be too dramatic, (which I think I tend to do in my writing), it's time to write these like it's to save my life ... or at least my sanity. Ever since I decided to leave Japan about 5 months again, I have searing mental anguish concerning leaving my dojo after every practice. I don't know how I manage to forget it and ease my soul before I go to bed, but now it's time to do so by way of these "Lessons", a productive and therapuetic way to think about my training. So enough of all that. Let's get on with the lesson. And let's try to keep it brief, to start off on a solid foot. A couple months ago for a couple months, I was avid about training with my jo (short staff), and was determined to nail the two kata I've been shown, 31 and 13. Now, things have changed, and I've come to want to focus more on the ken (wooden sword) instead. It could be for many reasons, but namely, because my sensei said it was his favorite. If there's any large lessons I've learned in aikido, it's to find a good sensei and copy everything he does. The original intent wasn't consciously meant to follow this method of learning, but is a natural side effect I guess. Though it seems to me there are less options, or at least less movements I've learned with the ken compared to the jo, sensei seems to emphasize these movements in our empty practice a little more often. As a matter of fact, I see more in the action of lifting the ken in our empty handed practice than all of the moves of the jo combined. This is particularly evident in the waza kokyuhou. It comes in various applications, but these specific attacks and defenses aren't as important as paying attention to raising your arms in the manner of doing so as if you held a ken. But to even say "raise your arms" is a huge misnomer because if you were to just literally raise your arms, you would be so absolutley very far from the technique. One must do so from the hip, which starts at the legs, and transfers through the torso, through the arms, wrists, and opponents body. But that last sentence I wrote is so cliche and well known, that it kind of pisses me off I wrote it, but it is true. Perhaps if I could focus on one thing it's the wrists. I've been infatuated in how the wrists move in this movement, but to emphasis some movement in the wrist would be to put too much stress into it. For me, it helps to think of it more as an extension, or last tweak to the whole form that makes or breaks the form. Just try and pick up your sword, raise it over your head to a place where the sword almost drapes down your back (but doesn't because you're keeping good form). HOLY CRAP! This is why when we raise the ken over our heads, we let it go down our backs a bit. The first post I wrote about the ken in this blog addressed the problem of how we should hold our ken in the upright position ... 1.) Like kendo where it's a 45 degree angle shooting upward and backward, 2.) parallel with the ground, or 3.) draping down the back (the one I thought was the obvious worst form!!!) But we do so partly because of that very subtle twist of the wrist. There you go, back into the "Lessons". No pictures, frequently off on a tangent, and starting from a point where I have no idea where it's going ... here it is. For my sanity.

A Break from Martial Mania

2011-04-13T10:34:00.006+09:00

Hisashi buri!

Long time no post eh?

I returned from an epic trip to Yakushima Island in south west Japan with many tales of folly and adventure! But alas, chronicling such matters for the blog seems to be taking a lot more time than I'm willing to offer at the moment. It is a work in progress, and maybe, just maybe will manifest into a readable format. Until that time, I will resume somewhat usual blogging matters after what has been a couple weeks now.

Not only have I been away from the keyboard for a couple weeks, the actual 8 day trip itself kept me away from the dojo, and has greatly affected my psyche concerning martial arts as a whole. Generally speaking, I've spent a little less time thinking about martial arts, and a lot less time obsessing or worrying about them. The period of time leading up to the trip, I found myself in a month of increasing stress (both eustress: "stress that is deemed healthful or giving one the feeling of fulfillment", and distress: "that which causes pain, suffering, trouble, danger, etc." [or how about this definition of distress: to dent, scratch, or stain (furniture, lumber, or the like) so as to give an appearance of age.] [definitions found at "definitions.com"]) Time was also frantically spent at school reading blogs concerning martial arts and ordering martial arts books. Time spent showing up early for training to practice ken and jo, and time spent after training at home practicing ken and jo. All the while, images of black belts and hakamas haunted me, making me stare with tunnel vision 10, 20, 30, 40 years into the future ... with little attention to 99% of everything else around me. On the one hand I felt my physical level in aikido rise noticeably and immediately in certain ways, but like I said, ignored about 99.9% of everything else around me. I've been here many times before, and even predicted the fall that would follow my ascension of this spike of sorts.

I knew Yakushima would make a lot of my martial concerns dissipate around me as I explored new streets and climbed mountains loaded with a heavy pack, and it certainly did. But this is not to say I forgot at all about martial arts, it was just from a very different perspective ... one that was looking in on it all. After the camping/hiking adventure, I came back down to sea level and poked my head back into the budo blog realm, and watched it with a squinch in my nose and brow. Judgements and revelations as well as innocent endeavors cast across inter-web space in every color and direction. I looked at all the blogs I have listed in the sidebar of my own, and was swamped by the shear amount of information. What did this have to do with me? How relevant is this to my life? I cracked the frosty asahi that was waiting next to the keyboard and stepped outside onto the porch of my hostel to watch a cloudless sunset.

When I finally came back to Kurobe, I had somehow contracted a debilitating stomach flu, that sent me to the hospital, and vomit all over the walls of my bathroom. I had to take two days off work, and inevitably miss an aikido class. I thought it would be a nice time to relax and slowly reorganize things from my trip before returning fully to my life of routine... but I spent all the energy I could making a 20 minute trip to the store, and keeping my eyes open to watch a single movie. The rest of the time, lethargy allowed me nothing but the desire to find the womb silent half-asleep, half-awake in my futon.

When I did return, it was with great enthusiasm to conduct my life with consistency and moderation for the things I love in my life, and leave a lot of open space to explore what things may flow in and out. I found a book that has proved to be very therapeutic to my current martial condition: "Watch My Back" by Geoff Thompson. Instead of my usual textbook-like rotating library of strict and serious accounts of well-established traditions, this book is the story of a young man finding his way through the mayhem of being a doorman in urban England. (Something I would never want to do! But it sure is interesting.) This auto-biography of sorts is a refreshing change. However, a week and 100 pages later, I have already found myself clouding my view with these encapsulating stimulations concerning martial arts again, and am recoiling a bit at the moment.

I'm beginning to ramble, but I guess the point of putting these thoughts onto this blog for people to spend time to read ... is to mark a reformation of martial arts in my life. Not a revolution, but a reformation; and one made from the general standpoint of "my life" ... instead of one happening to my life from the standpoint of "budo".

Why do I spend so much time in my white superhero outfit, reading about ancient traditions and recent occurences of violence, and swinging wooden sticks around when I'm alone?

I don't really know, but I'm sure I will continue to think about it ... with consistency and moderation.

Factory or Forest?

2011-03-25T13:31:00.009+09:00

The other night I watched "the 11th Hour" documentary about the current state of environmental issues and focusing on global warming. I couldn't help but watch it with the incessant searching eyes of a martial artist and noticed a particularly interesting bit 1 hour and 2 minutes into the show in the words of ecological designer, John Todd:

"Whether we're talking about the design of a factory, or a building, or a road, or even a town, it's much easier to design in isolation and superimpose a design on what exists. But if we were to follow nature's operating instructions, it designs in exactly the opposite way. It brings in to the pallet, so to speak, all of the kingdoms of life and then works symphonically to create an end result, which might be a coral reef or might be a forest."

So, as martial artists, is your desired goal more like a factory or forest? Are your training methods more like a superimposed plan designed in isolation, or a symphonic creation which recognizes the surrounding conditions? Of course this is just an analogy, and most likely your plan lies somewhere between the extremes, but it may be interesting to think of what your training would look like in consideration of this analogy.

Think about the lifespan and purpose of each example; factory and forest. A factory is built with a specific purpose in mind. Until the factory is built, it cannot start production. After it is built, it will have a lifespan that will inevitably end and decrease in performance along the way. It will require repair, if not a complete demolition and reconstruction. If the factory is around long enough, those who have to perform maintenance and reconstruction will only have blueprints and abstract concepts to base their idea of the original form on.

An environment of interconnected natural organisms on the other hand, has no specific purpose. If you could take a leap to make any judgements, it's goal may be to stay alive, and keep producing ... but equally so destroying and regenerating. Because there is no purpose, there is likely no beginning or end ... it simply is. Any distinctions or categorizations are inherently limiting explanations. You can analyze a flower in the forest and say that it's purpose is to produce pollen, but to dwell on this one specific would be to ignore the infinite amount of similar other "purposes", which can be a method of inquiry more misleading than enlightening.

Certainly, humanity's ability to manipulate "form" to achieve certain specific goals is something that can be of great benefit to a martial artist, but perhaps we should keep applications of "form" in consideration of an interconnected environment that has no beginning, end, or purpose. Could we say "Green Martial Arts"? Healthier on the surrounding environment and self as opposed to self-destructive and outwardly violent? For those who have thought about such dichotomies and distinctions, I'm not just talking about "internal" and "external" martial arts; or "hippy-peaceful-chi-loving-magic" martial arts and "young-male-aggressive-destructive-UFC"martial artists. This transcends style and judgements, and can be achieved within a wide variety of outward manifestations.

Anyway, perhaps I have forests on the brain because I have very important plans of travel for the next week. My first proper Gaijin Adventure in at least 6 months! Unbelievable. But yes, I am resuming true Gaijin Explorer antics by visiting far-off ...

YAKUSHIMA!

It is now semi-spring break, (I say "semi" because there's no school, but most students still have to come for club activities, and teachers still have to come because ... mmmmm ... I have no idea) and I am using a week's worth of paid leave to initiate the coming of spring, since it hasn't happened yet. Maybe it needs a little encouragement by yours truly to break out of winter slumber. I've been planning a trip for this time period since December, and actually initially wanted to go to Shikoku (the fourth biggest island of Japan, see map below) for a whole new environment, unknown rural areas, slightly warmer temperatures, and epic mountains to climb.

BUT ... then I decided to upgrade my plan (with no disrespect to Shikoku, it's still very much at the top of my list of places to see in Japan). If I'm leaving Japan in August, then I'm damn well going to make sure I see something that challenges my imagination ... I'm looking a bit further to a kingdom of SUPER-epic proportions! YAKUSHIMA!

Super-epic mountains covered in super-epic forests of cedar trees located on a tiny circular island of the coast of the most south-western point of major Japan ... it is also going to be super-epic-expensive ... but a cache of gold means little to this gaijin.

There are many specific reasons why I want to visit this place so bad, but there's also this over-arching all-consuming mystical draw to the island. I think the source of this is that which is most famous on the island: yakusugi. (Yaku - the island, and sugi - cedar trees. Actually, sugi are often called "cedars" in English, but really belong to the cypress family of trees. In this blog I'll just refer to them as sugi to avoid confusion.) The oldest of these trees are estimated to be beween 2,600 and 7,200 years old.

7,200 YEARS OLD!!!

The island is also famed to be the inspiration of Hayao Miyazaki's anime, "Princess Mononoke" which takes place in a forest filled with magical spirits. A great film, and one of my favorites.

So, I plan to leave tomorrow, first on a 3 hour train to Osaka, and then a 12 hour overnight bus to Kagoshima. One night in Kagoshima, and then it's a 4 hour ferry ride to Yakushima, where I'll stay for 5 nights; two of which I hope to spend camping around the 1,900 meter (a little more than 6,000 feet) peaks of the island ... but this has become a very strong hope. In the winter, these mountains get large amounts of snow despite their southern location, but in all the guidebooks and information sites I read, all the snow should be melted by April. However, we've had a particularly long, cold, and snowy winter in the mountanous regions of Japan, and there is still snow at the peaks in Yakushima. I've tried to investigate just how much there is exactly, and future weather forecasts, but I haven't heard any information other than it was deemed "very dangerous" by the park authorities two weeks ago. I am feeling extremely adventurous, and this is a very expensive and important trip I've been planning for months, but I also want to practice more aikido and write more on my blog, so I will make safety the number one (or at least in the top five priority list) during this trip. It seems at best, I'll be able to freeze my ass off safely in my tent at the top of the mountains, and at worst, settle for day trips and see how high I can get. Last night I pondered postponing the trip until summer when I could have a better chance at ideal conditions, but I know too well the high risk I would be taking of never making it to Yakushima. Now is the time, and I'm going no matter what ... I just really hope I can make it to the top.

Could this quandary be any more relevant? Should I do all I can to superimpose my design on nature blindly ignorant of current conditions? Or should I adapt my plan appropriate to the conditions? Factory or forest. Again, certainly a happy-medium of sorts is desirable, but exactly how that's going to work out is a mystery to me now.

My life is not a factory of quotas, commodities, gross production statistics, or any other fancy terms I really don't understand about economics ... but is more likened to a an ongoing organism with no purpose other to live gloriously.

(If they ever come out with pills to balance right and left brain activity, maybe I should consider taking "left-brain" supplements.)

Great Resource for Japanese Literature

2011-03-22T11:11:00.003+09:00

The other day I was introduced to a wonderful site which contains a list of various works of Japanese literature throughout history: "20 Essential Works of Japanese Literature."

Below is a link to the website as well as its own introduction:

http://www.bachelorsdegreeonline.com/blog/2011/20-essential-works-of-japanese-literature/

"Japan's ancient history has imbued it with a diverse literary heritage largely ignored by American literati and professors, save for a few notable exceptions. Anyone wanting to further explore the full range of the country's written works should consider this list a primer of the highlights to hit before moving on to other poems, novels, plays, comics and short stories. Plenty of amazing writers and narratives exist beyond these, of course, and anyone who digs for them will dredge up a slew of literary treasures."

The website is actually found on "bachelorsdegreeonline" along with many other informative blogs about various topics.

Spanning from the "Kokin Wakashu" written around 905 C.E. to Haruki Murakami's, "The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle" in 1995, a vast variety of Japanese works are presented including such traditional classics as "The Tale of Genji" and "The Tale of the Heike", and those from modern award-winning novelists such as Yukio Mishima and Kenzaburo Oe. I recognized quite a few of the titles on the list, but I was surprised to find many I hadn't heard of before. It particularly reminded me of all the modern classics I haven't read yet. One work from ancient times which really caught my eye that I hadn't heard of before was the "Taketori Monogatari". (Description from the website below):

"Taketori Monogatari (10th Century) by Unknown: Known alternately as "The Tale of the Bamboo-Cutter" and "The Old Bamboo-Hewer's Story," folklorists believe this narrative is quite possibly the oldest in Japan. Because of the bizarre content, including glowing stalks of the eponymous plant, some even think of the story as one of the earliest science-fiction stories as well."

With each description, a link is given to the stories where you can purchase them online. I can think of a few personal favorites from Japanese literature that are not on the list, and there are no references for works in the past fifteen years, I highly recommend this wonderful resource for those interested in a helpful resource to dive into the vast ocean of Japanese literature with.

Recent Stumbling on the Path

2011-03-21T14:11:00.003+09:00

My performance in aikido the past couple nights could be described as far from "flowing", "smooth", and "effective"; which is what I am ultimately aiming at in my practice. Perhaps it was the overstimulation from the current issues in Japan, but last Thursday I walked into the dojo with my head and my body going in two different directions, and niether of them seemed to be concerned with aikido. As we warmed up, I realized where I was and what I needed to do for the next two hours, but when we lined up to watch sensei demonstrate a technique for us to practice, it didn't look like anything I've seen him do before, though it was a very basic technique I've practiced hundreds of times. When we got with our partners, I didn't even remember what the attack was supposed to be. When practicing techniques throughout the night, I was constantly stopping in the middle with no idea what I was supposed to do. After about forty minutes I mentally stopped myself for a little peptalk and tried to reel myself back to some acceptable level of aikido competency, but all I could do was look over at the clock ... over and over again. Practice a move, look at the clock ... 8:06. Practice a move, look at the clock ... 8:09. Practice a move, look at the clock ... 8:10. As soon as I started this, my mind followed my body into a downward spiral of uncoordination and laziness. I just wanted practice to be over. I never did recover my drive, and so the rest of practice went on like this, and we even practiced twenty minutes longer than usual.

The interesting part about this is that sensei noticed my state very quickly and gave me physical signals like, "What the hell are you doing???" When he was my uke (the person receiving the technique), he wouldn't give me anything, and when I was his and giving a crappy ukemi, he would sit unpatiently waiting for me to adjust and give me a really sharp wrist lock or throw or whatever. I would react with frustration, and he saw me getting very hard on myself, and thus making my whole being tense and stuck in tunnel vision. He didn't appreciate this at all, and responded by utilizing the most effective method of communcation a teacher has: silence. After class, I had to pay money to Ueno-san, and we talked about potential times for an upcoming test I was due for. I said something in Japanese with a little more gaijin-accent than usual, sensei was right next to us, and he mimicked me! After I just had a worthless night of aikido, was paying my dues, and trying to get out as soon as possible, he made fun of my Japanese!!! In reality, it was a very small thing, and I probably do sound really funny when I speak Japanese, and I probably would have laughed at a foreigner in the same situation ... but sincethen, that moment has replayed in my head on average of a few times a day, and I try and say the phrase over and over again to get rid of the accent. I even had a dream about it last night! Anyway, we decided the test would be during the next practice, and I gathered my things as quickly as possible and went home ... but not without a stopping at the conbini (convenience store) for some medicine (beer).

I went home to have some very important revelations. On my bike ride back to the apartment, I was continuing being very strict with myself, criticizing myself with all kinds of ultimatums and extreme judgements: "I suck at aikido", "I started too late", "I'm leaving too early", "aikido is stupid", etc. However, as soon as I got home, it all fell away and I started laughing out loud. I must have looked really funny, even more so because I started trying so much harder and failing more, and I probably did speak Japanese extra strange tonight ... and it was probably even more funny because I got all heated up about it. There is absolutley nothing that this kind of frustration does to help me in aikido ... unless you count this revelation I was having as something that was helping me deal with this specific destructive trend; which it was, but technically it doesn't directly affect my aikido ability. I'll say it again, frustration and self-conscious worries do not directly progress your ability in aikido. If there was a direct path to progressing in aikido, these frustrations only harden yourself, making you stiff and static, distracting you away from the path, or slowing if not stopping you altogether. If I am climbing a mountain called aikido, this would be like sitting down in a cold rainy puddle in the middle of the road, or trying to punch the rocky sides of the mountain. Looking back on my life thus far, I think I would be better martial artist if I substitued all those feelings of frustration with either more honest practice or laughing and having fun. The frustration does nothing but transport me to my own personal hell of suffering ... which is about as real and relevant as a place located miles beneath the surface of the earth where large scary red people poke at you with tridents amid torture in fire ... which is not very real or relevant to me. I think this is where Hosogoshi was/is stuck, and why sensei had that strange night with him a week ago, and why he has left. Though Hosogoshi went to every single practice, and trained harder and more consistently than anyone else, I think he was stuck in frustrations, and sensei communicated his discontent casting him from the dojo.

It's the Dark Side:

"Anger leads to hate, hate leads to pain, and pain leads to suufffeerrrriiinnnnggg."

Remember who said that? Master Yoda. Though Anakin was by far the one with the most potential and thought he deserved to be on the Jedi Council as a master; and Obi-wan may have seemed lame when telling Anakin to chill and be more patient and wait for a few more years, Anakin was blinded by his passion and eventually overcome by his ambition turning him into the slave of the dark side, Darth Vader. Hehe, I hope you enjoyed that reference.

Anyway, Saturday came and it was time to test. Practice was in Uozu, the next town over, and so I called sensei as usual to see when he was going to pick me up. No answer. I called again; no answer. Crap, I was going to have to ride my bike there ... whatever. I agreed to test that day, so I was going no matter what, and sensei was going to have to show up eventually. At first I was kind of pissed at him, in case this was some kind of test of devotion, but after further consideration, I realized Saturday is usually his busiest day at work, and he was going to have to make the big drive from two towns over even if he only can be at training for 20 minutes just to see my test.

My frustrations and complaints only exacerbate already apparent less-than-ideal situations.

On Saturdays, we share our already small mat space with a karate group, and we had a surprisingly large amount of people ... maybe eight were there at the beginning when usually Saturday is a little smaller of a class. By the end, sensei did show up, along with four other people, making thirteen aikidoka in all. The last twenty minutes of class I spent practicing the waza (techniques) for my test. I was definitely a little tired and looking forward to relaxing playing poker in an hour, but my techniques were solid and I envisioned summoning a great surge of energy during the few minutes I would test. The only thing I was worried about was the small amount of ken (wooden sword) and jo (short staff) I was going to have to do. For this test, which is yonkyuu (my fourth test and three away from a black belt) by the way, there is a very small amount of weapons, and they are the most essential basics, which I am more than capable of doing. However, I can never remember the names of the moves, and am unfamiliar with the protocol of doing weapons during the test. Whatever, I'm sure it won't be a problem.

Anyway, we all lined up, and I waited to be called out to test. Ueno-san said something about making preparations for the weapons part, and I had absolutley no idea what she was talking about. After some very awkward motions and Japanese communication I realized what I was supposed to do, and started off the test thrust into a state of reddened cheeks and accelerated heart beat. This was all accentuated because of the large amount of people watching me do this by myself in an unusually small amount of space. We did weapons first, and it became very clear I had absolutley no idea what the protocol for doing weapons during the test was, and forgot all of the names of the waza I was supposed to do. Ueno san called out the techniques for me to do, and I would start doing something, something other than what I was supposed to be doing, and she'd give me a strange look and I realized I screwed up. She kept repeating in Japanese what I was supposed to do, and I started guessing what I was supposed to do in very self-conscious movements, which just made things worse. My cheeks flushed red and I felt like such a stupid gaijin standing in front of everyone during the test I am supposed to be absolutley ready for, and I was screwing up on the very first portion and unable to understand the most simple of commands. I seriously looked at Ueno-san and every drop of Japanese ability melted away from me ... she could have been speaking Chinese to me and I wouldn't know the difference. If only she would just mimic the moves quickly, I would do them. Well, somehow, I got through it, and we moved on to the empty handed techniques. I had two people serve as my uke, but both of them made things more difficult than usual. One of them is a white belt who hardly ever comes to class, so he doesn't know how to do proper ukemi for a lot of the moves and often reacts very unnaturally. The other was an experienced black belt, but he's older and unbelievably stiff, and does ukemi different from everybody else. I would perform a move and one of them would move differently than usual, and I would react, but it was not very smooth. At one point, a move was screwed up, I got really hot and knew everyone could see how red my face was getting, and all I could hear was the thunderous beat of my heart. However, the best part of my test for me personally was that I just took really calm and deep breaths, and went on with things as absolutley best I could. The test finally ended, and afterwards I went to sensei and Ueno-san to receive comments on my test. They both said my empty handed techniques were just fine for my level of my testing, but I had a big problem with not knowing the correct terms for the weapons portion. This was obvious, and I apologized for my mistakes, because it does in a way show disrespect to the system and test. Next class I'll go over them again with Ueno-san to make sure it's all in order.

Before I went to poker, I stopped for a bowl of ramen and a beer to laugh about the silly gaijin antics I had displayed over the past couple nights of aikido. In the end, I'm grateful for the honesty of my superiors. Not only their words, but also their physical actions. If I'm screwing up, no one is going to take it easy on me and ask me if I want to rest, or tell me it's fine for me to do comprable aikido. Instead, they hold fast to their standards, and it is me who needs to make the choices considering my performance and attitude towards life. I'm glad to have last week behind me for so many reasons, and look forward to what will come: more aikido class, normal life in Toyama, and maybe ... just maybe some signs that spring is coming.

By the way, I just saw Bladerunner last night for the first time ... how have I missed that until now? Absolutley amazing. From what I've seen, the 80's were the Golden Age of sci-fi movies. (Predator, the Abyss, Alien, Bladerunner, to name the favorites that immediately come to mind.)
In less than two hours and without 80% of the movie being run with green screens and computer graphics, you can get an amazing story with great action scenes that leave you with deep questions to ponder far after viewing. Now, everything has to be a 10 hour long trilogy attempting to answer everything under the sun with an overload of computer graphics. I'm going to watch Tron tonight.

Gaijin's Nuclear Report (Morning of Sunday March 20th)

2011-03-20T13:58:00.002+09:00

I turn on the news now and can find nothing about the current situation in Fukushima. Things have settled down. Personally, I'm not letting my guard down, but will probably not be investigating any news more than once a day unless I'm notified of anything in particular. If this is my own notifaction of a personal lack of worry, I think I could have done it the afternoon of Friday the 18th. It was a long week at school were I probably spent 70% of my time actively researching the incident, and usually with a heightened level of concern. After school on Friday, I got together with some of the other ALTs (gaijin Assistant Language Teachers) to play Magic (any of you lucky enough to know the wonders of this game???) and we all commiserrated with each other our feelings and experiences of this all. Now progress is being made to restore power and cool things down at the power plant, and Toyama here has remained unaffected.

Now when I turn on the news, I see war in Libya. I think I remember hearing a Chinese curse that goes something like: "May you live in interesting times."

Gaijin's Nuclear Update (Morning of Thursday, March 17)

2011-03-16T18:05:00.005+09:00

(While writing this, helicopters have began flying over the reactors dropping water and making readings of the radiation levels.)

Though it's been 6 days now since the initial earthquake started the chain reaction of terrifying events here in Japan, immediate danger still seems far from resolved. Even after reading tens of articles and watching Japanese news for an hour so far this morning, I'm not really sure how things are going. As an American living in Toyama, Japan, it's hard at this point to make sense of the polarized opinions, feelings, and reactions.

'"We are at the beginning of the catastrophic phase," Sebastian Pflugbeil, president of the private, German-based Society for Radiation Protection, said of Japan's efforts to pull the Fukushima plant back from the brink.' says an article from "reuters.com" last night.(http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/03/16/us-japan-quake-worst-idUSTRE72F6H720110316?pageNumber=1)

"If cooling operations do not proceed well, the situation will ''reach a critical stage in a couple of days,'' an agency official said." reports Kyodo News this morning, which claims itself as "Japan's Leading News Network", and seems to present one of the most unbiased articles I've read. (http://english.kyodonews.jp/news/2011/03/78704.html)

Yesterday in the school office I simultaneously swept the web for all hours of daylight while watching the Japanese news on TV and periodically asking Japanese around me what was going on. Yesterday things were steadily worsening, and if I could draw any consensus from the information I got yesterday, it's that something needs to happen as soon as possible! I read no reports that said "Everything will be fine if nothing happens over the next few days."

I've received nothing more than the initial message from the authorities of the JET Programme (my job) stating the facts of the initial tsunami and earthquake and requests to donate money. What are other JETs doing right now? What the hell are the JETs doing in the affected prefectures??? Yesterday I read an account of an Australian English teacher, who along with a few other fellow English teachers who lived in Fukushima, immediately fled to their home countries fearing exposure to radiation and upset at the lack of information and concern by the authorities in their area. (Link to the article: http://au.news.yahoo.com/latest/a/-/latest/9022648/australian-teacher-flees-radiation/) Have any JETs been killed in this series of tragic events? Been exposed to fatal or cancerous levels of radiation?

Well, as soon as I got to school this morning, I turned on the TV and started sweeping the news for information ... nothing seems to have changed.

Until yesterday, the news had a constant broadcast primarily focusing on the immediate nuclear dangers showing current images of the damaged nuclear reactors, substantial speeches from authorities, and animated models to inform people of what is happening in the reactors. Also, video was periodically shown of the areas destroyed by the tsunami and the current status of survivors as well as statistics and predications of those who perished. Despite criticism of the Japanese authorities, I was impressed at the level of coverage by the mainstream Japanese media.

This morning the reports are diluted with uninformative round-table discussions between young TV hosts. Online, I've found articles that are already talking about nicknames for those workers who have remained at the plant to work on the crisis and are deemed heroes. These men are absolute heroes in my opinion as well, but the situation is worsening and you're already giving credit for resolutions??? The headline of Yahoo News was, "Dog in Japan won't abandon ailing friend" This is the best you've got??? This is the most current news on the current nuclear disaster???

AS I WRITE THIS NOW IN THE SCHOOL OFFICE, HELICOPTERS ARE FLYING OVER THE REACTORS... but there is no one around for me to ask what's going on! Wait ... one of the teachers just came up and helped me put the audio into English, bless his soul. (I'm doing my best to keep my biased and judgemental generalizations to myself, but it's obvious I tend to exaggerate impressions a bit sometimes. Also, at this time I don't have any classes today and so have the liesurely time to make my full-time job researching this matter while other teachers still have classes to teach. Now, a few teachers are amassing around the TV because it is a break between classes.)

Helicopters are apparently flying over the reactors, dumping water and measuring the levels of radiation. !!! Yesterday it was said that this was too dangerous because of the estimated levels of radiation. What changed between then and now? I don't know yet. Are those people consciously and willingly going into what really is probable fatal levels of radiation to take these measures of emergency? Have they confirmed that it is safe to do so? Don't know yet.

Anyway, by the current visible attitudes of people in Toyama, life has returned to normal. (Again, I'm trying not to exaggerate things, and trying to be as unbiased as possible, but am just trying to communicate what I perceive here, which is probably only a portion of the actual feelings. Though I've spent a good amount of time here and studying Japanese culture, I still often have absoultley no idea how some people here feel by their outward appearance). Yesterday, the news was on all day, and people periodically were checking up on things, but I sensed no feelings of worry. However I was able to talk with Terao Sensei about the epic possibilities of the Apocalypse stemming from this event to satiate my extreme American imagination. Ever since the event, I have been walking around expecting earthquakes at any moment, visualizing what I would do in such a case, and looking around at the air wondering if I am receiving unusually high levels of radiation. But all else in town seems to have resumed a state of normalcy. Yesterday, junior high school students came to my high school to read the results of their test scores determining if they were going to enter this school next year, so there were crowds of crying (both with excitement and despair) junior high school students, and high school students and teachers alike were observing the soon to be freshmen. Generally, it seems people high school age and younger don't know or care about what is going on, the elderly sit on street corners and in front of TVs rambling with each other, and everyone in between is running around frantically working harder than they should ... all just like normal.

Yesterday I was trying to balance myself between the normal world of Toyama, the seeming apocalypse that was proposed by a large amount of sources on the media, and what I could actually see on the media. My own personal thoughts of the whole of Japan downspiraling into a state of mass anxiety as the plants explode exposing the world to radiation drove me to spend a lot of time pondering my escape and role in the Great Apocalyse. I also drank about four times as much coffee as normal.

As school ended and night drew near, I went home to eat and prepare for aikido. Motivated by the need to "do something", I went to the dojo an hour early to practice jo; which was my solution to the end of the world. When picked up by sensei, I got in the car and we initiated conversation as usual, as just about anyone does in Japan during winter: "Samui desu ne." ("It's cold isn't it").

A few moments passed and I said:

"Soooo, the uh ... nuclear situation is pretty tough huh?"

"Yeah it is huh."

"Are you worried?"

"Hah?"

"Are you worried about the nuclear disaster???"

"Oh yeah, it's going to be really bad for the economy."

I spent most of my day pondering the Apocalypse wondering if I was going to perish from exposure to radiation, and he seems absolutley unconcerned. I didn't really know how to pursue asking him about dangers of radiation, but I asked him about how this may affect him.

(NUCLEAR UPDATE: one of the teachers that pisses me off most just came by and turned off the news. He must be beri beri bizi.)

Sensei explained some things about the economy and how it affects his job as a Buddhist priest, but I didn't really understand and it wasn't satisfying me, so I asked him how Buddhist philosophy would address this situation. He said it was certainly a tragic event with the amount of death and loss, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. I didn't really understand his explanation after that, but I think maybe he was saying that it was good because it revealed to people the precious and sensitive nature of life and brought people together. He then began to explain a very interesting analogy about knives and nuclear power. He said there is no problem with nuclear power; the problem is with how it is used. Take a knife for instance, if you want to peel an apple, a knife is a wonderful tool. But that knife can also be used to kill people. The problem is not the knife, but how it was used by someone. It's the same with nuclear power. The problem is how we are using nuclear power. He was very characteristically matter-of-fact about the whole situation.

At the dojo, some chatter about the events started, but it was mostly about the fact that the usual variety shows had resumed on nightly TV, and someone had a story about someone they knew being stuck in the transportation delays in Tokyo. Somewhere in the training, very early on, I had forgotten all about the current events, and had a great aikido practice. I came home and turned on the news, but found no new updates, so I made dinner and watched the last episode of "Pillars of the Earth" on my laptop.

Now, I've been at school for about two hours, have drank way too much coffee, and am subconsciously convinced by my immediate surroundings that everything is OK, elated that helicopters are dropping water and taking measurements of radiation above the nuclear reactors, and just slightly more than annoyed by Japanese society (which is the most reassuring factor that things are normal). Now I'm going to get some more coffee and turn the news back on for a bit. What am I going to do after that? What am I going to think about if it's not nuclear apocalypse? It surely makes everything else seem a bit unimportant. Things seem to be improving though.

Japanese Crisis Viewed From Toyama

2011-03-15T11:18:00.006+09:00

Though I'm relatively far from the area affected by the earthquakes, tsunami, and nuclear contamination by living here in Toyama Prefecture on the Sea of Japan, it has been a very strange experience to be in this country during this devastating time in Japan. Here is my account of the way things have played out from my perspective.

When the major earthquake hit, I was actually in an empty classroom pacing around half- practicing Japanese and half-worrying about the direction of my life and other petty distractions. After I finished, I went back up the the staff room and Terao Sensei told me a great earthquake had happened and that I had better go and watch the TV, which was on on the other side of the room. I went there and stood stunned and confused with about three other teachers as we watched in awe the spectacle of the great wave consuming a fishing village. I tried to rationalize what was happening without any previous information about this. I saw a flood of water move across the landscape, but from my perspective it didn't seem so menacing; maybe it looked a foot or two high and moving through empty portyards and rice fields. Perhaps it would stop after twenty or thirty feet and recede back to the ocean. Instead, it continued at what I realized was a very fast pace and was very much higher than a foot or two. Despite hitting buildings directly on, water just kept pouring forth, channeling the water through any passage available and pulling anything along with it. Oh my god, are those cars? There are cars that seem to be unknowingly driving parallel to the oncoming wave. Holy shit, they just got caught by the wave, there are lots of cars and people in them, and now they're flowing into each other, into buildings, with boats, and into people!

Us teachers looked around at each other absolutley dumbfounded, flinching and gasping as we saw everything consumed, foot by foot ... it was happening right at that moment. How could these people not know what was happening? How come this wave isn't stopping. A teacher came up with their jaw open and asked if it was Japan ... "REALLY??? Oh my god!"

The camera switched to this group of large dome buildings, one of which had caught on fire and the fire was growing. Why isn't it stopping? Why aren't there firemen there right now? I watched as the fire grew, building and rising, beginning to consume others surrounding it. They're all going to blow. Slowly, more teachers amass in front of the TV, but most everyone is silent and shocked.

Over the next few minutes and soon hours, it becomes a well understood fact that there was a massive disaster happening in eastern Japan of unparralelled magnitude. The news was warning of more earthquakes, and other areas around Japan that may be at risk. All of northeastern Japan was under extreme warning, Tokyo and southern Pacific regions were at great warning, north western Japan just reaching down to Toyama were at warning, and southwest Sea of Japan regions had no threat. It was said that a tsunami of 50 cm was going to hit Toyama at 5:30, no one seemed worried about this ... and nothing really happened. I left school on my bike to take care of a few errands, but had my head fixed towards the sea in case I too was about to be overtaken by a menacing wave. All was well, and I met Terao Sensei for dinner as we planned at an izakaya (Japanese pub) for yakitori and asahi. Of course this was all over the news, and video of Tokyo was being shown: offices shaking violently, pieces of concrete building falling into the streets, and ceilings collapsing. Also, I saw parts of eastern Hokkaido that had been flooded. Death tolls began to be posted, and the number started at meager hundreds. The feeling was that this was a horrible event, but as we saw the death toll rise, nuclear plants on fire, and affected regions spanning all the way from Hokkaido to Tokyo, it was unbelievably ominous. There was a weird feeling that things were going on as normal in Toyama. People were finishing work, eating dinner, and meeting with friends on this Friday night, but also that a tremendous amount of death and destruction had occured only hundreds of miles away on the other side of the mountains.

Terao Sensei and I finished our dinner and went our separate ways. My friends were playing poker that night, but I declined at first to instead go home and try and make some sense of things. I went online to find many people from home emailing and facebooking me to see if I was affected. People seemed to the brink of panic, and it further convinced me of the magnitude of what was happening. I became very sentimental and decided that this was not a night to be spent drinking alone in my apartment, but rather spent with people I care about here where we can talk about this. So I went to poker. My friends were all proceeding to set up the games, but the news was on the TV and we couldn't help but talk about it. At this point, it was deep into night, fires were burning, people were dying, and we thought about all the survivors stuck in the freezing nights of northern Japan. My best gaijin friend who's house we were at, turned off the TV abruptly and put on music for the poker game. All the rest of us looked at each other shocked, but didn't say anything and just began the game. My friend seemed very much averted to watching this, and is the type to shy away from death and tragedy. We just went along with it and would check back in a bit. Periodically we would turn on the TV to see the increasing disaster, but after minutes of changing a cd, my friend would turn off the TV again. How could he not be watching every second of this?!?!?! Well, that's just his deal. A few of us were asking if we felt the earthquake. One of my friends lives in a very old farm house, and he said his whole house was shaking violently. After the initial quakes subsided, he ran outside to safety next to rice fields. I had a really weird experience, where I think I had one of those experiences where I felt something strange, but naturally deemed it nothing because it seemed to out of the ordinary and no one else to confirm it at the time. So now looking back, I'm not sure if I felt it or not. After poker I went home and went to sleep, grateful for my safety, and deeply affected by the amount of devastation that was still happening at that time.

The next day was an unbelievably bright and sunny day in Toyama. One couldn't help but be refreshed from the immediate change of weather towards spring, but the feeling was also very ominous around. Everyone seemed very quiet and concerned, and yet still proceeding with their day. I rode my bike to the store and tried to imagine my own small town of Kurobe being consumed by a tsunami of such magnitude. I looked at the ugly glaring concrete buildings that were spattered throughout the town that would stand defiantly against oncoming surges of water and manipulated automobiles and bodies. I looked at the flimsy 50-year-old-plus housing that would have absolutley crumbled immediately under such force. I looked at all the elderly that frequent the streets at midday, and they as well would have absolutley zero chance against such a happening. Shit ... I would have no chance against such a force. Just immediate and inevitable absolute destruction. Like newspaper in a fire.

I turned on the news in the morning and was amazed to see the death toll above one thousand and only burning skeletal remains of those large industrial domes I had seen consumed the day before. And now, a nuclear plant in Fukushima was just destroyed and vain attempts to keep others from going as well were in order. Alas, the aftermath of such immediate destruction only increases the building terror. Nuclear threat? This is unbelievable. All this happening while I cleaned my house on this beautiful spring day, pondering the bachelor party I was going to attend later that night. Throughout the day the situation was still building.

I was to have a friend from the U.S. visit me in Toyama the next weekend, and just realized this may not happen. He had apparently arrived in Osaka around the time of the incident, and thought people frantically running around in industrial uniforms was normal for Japan. It wasn't until he checked his email that he had realized that the largest recorded earthquake in Japanese history had just occured and the country was in a national state of emergency. He was safe in Osaka, but was planning on headed to Tokyo before coming to Toyama. At that time there were delays and frequent blackouts in Tokyo, as there still is, but I figured by the time he got there, things would be relatively normal and he could at least get a train to Toyama.

Sunday came and things were slowly getting worse considering the death toll and impending nuclear disaster.

Monday, more of the same. At one point, I was in the school office alone while the teachers were in a meeting and I heard a very strange alarm-like buzzing noise. Heh? Was it coming from me? I could hear it coming from all around me too. My head darted from side to side trying to figure out where the alarm was coming from and I stood up shooting my chair behind me as I did a chase-my-own-tail maneuver looking for the source of this sound. I grabbed my cell phone and realized that it was coming from all the cell phones left behind in the empty classroom. It was a national earthquake warning sent to all cell phones, so I positioned myself next to a doorway and listened with my whole being for any quakes. I looked towards my desk and imagined myself huddled beneath it as the whole ceiling collapsed trapping me inside. This did not happen of course, no earthquake was felt, and since that time my alarm has gone off maybe 5 times warning of earthquakes in neighboring prefectures like Nagano and Niigata.

My friend who was to visit is returning home early with the work party he was with due to the general nation-wide as well as Tokyo-specific status ... delayed transportation, frequent blackouts, possibly more earthquakes, questionable nuclear meltdown. I don't blame them at all, especially because he's on a business trip and was merely making a side trip for fun to see me.

On this Tuesday, four days after the tsunami, things are strange in Toyama. Life here is progressing as normal, but the news is utterly occupied with the status of the disaster and the nuclear question is not getting any better. Throughout this time, I have been asking the Japanese around me about the details of what is happening, but I have gotten little more than what is immediately on the TV. Live images of the affected areas, nuclear updates from the authorities, and statistics of people dead and lost. I've asked about the sake my own safety, and people don't seem to be worried about being affected here in Toyama very much at all. I asked Terao Sensei about things in Tokyo concerning my friend getting around, but I didn't get any more information I already knew: transportation is delayed.

This poses a very interesting difference between Japanese and American culture. People seem to be viewing all of this in a very distant and accepting nature here in Japan. We are all watching the news attentively, but I don't hear anyone talking about it, and people seem to be taking the updates in a very matter-of-fact way. Eyes are wide, mouths are closed. I think everyone feels a great amount of sadness and terror from the incident, but is dealing with it by doing their best to work hard at their jobs for the national benefit. This is drastically different than the reaction abroad, specifically in America. I was surprised to receive so many concerned emails, because I was far from the affected area, and had been wondering if widespread news of this had already reached the U.S. during the night of the incident. I very quickly started reading English coverage of the incident for any specific updates I couldn't understand in Japanese, but initially there wasn't much. It wasn't until after a day or two that widespread fears of nuclear meltdown were the focus of discussion. People were evacuated from the surrounding area of the nuclear crisis, but there hasn't been so much worry in other areas. The American media is portraying things much differently, with an increasing concern for the potential nuclear crisis. I now settle in the middle, calm as the authorities are attending to the problem, but ever-ready for absolute nuclear meltdown and contamination of the country I currently reside in. Nevertheless, I am sure to get both English and Japanese updates hourly.

It is very easy, as a foreigner here in Japan amid such a disaster, to criticize the Japanese for their methods of dealing with such an incident. Why are the authorities so calm? Why aren't they doing more to prepare the people in case of nuclear meltdown? How come no one is talking about the meaning of this? In America, the authorities are reacting with great worry, people all the way across the world are even talking about mass nuclear contamination, and everyone is talking about it. But as a matter of fact, Terao Sensei just passed by me and asked me if there was anything I'd like to know about what's going on. I asked him if the authorities are preparing the people for nuclear meltdown, or addressing the risks, and he said not so much. I gave him a strange look, and he explained that in fact many Japanese people are unhappy about the way the government is dealing with this and want more legitimate and trustful information; not just the authorities protecting their image and telling people to calm down. People are people, and the Japanese culture is changing. What if a meltdown occured, and all of Japan was unable to save themselves because they weren't warned in time? How come Japan had to be firebombed almost completely and been the target of two nuclear bombs before surrendering in WWII? How come so many millions upon millions of Japanese have suffered in medieval times from greedy lords and shogun who wanted power? This is obviously going a bit far, but maybe we need to address how culture can affect the reaction to a disaster. But in the end, like I said, people are people, and right now there are lots of people reaction in a very generally human way to recent events.

Logistically, JETs (Japanese Exchange Teaching Programme I'm a part of) all over the country are organizing donation stations and potential, collecting non-perishable food, clothing, and monetary donations to bring aid to the affected areas. I wonder what has happened to the JETs in that area??? Has any died? I'm sure I have an email about it in my inbox as I type.

You know what's really interesting, is the earthquake hit exactly where I wanted to go in Japan before I was assigned to Toyama. I wanted to be on the Pacific side, close to Tokyo, in a culturally interesting area like Fukushima or Sendai, close to nature and small towns ... that is EXACTLY where the earthquake and tsunami hit. If I had had it my way a couple years ago, I would have placed myself right in the middle of the disaster. Is the work of my own personal kami (spirits, gods) that sent me to Toyama instead? How about the kami of those living in the affected area?

No joke, just last night before I went to sleep, I picked up a book of short stories, "Sleeping Willow, Blind Woman" by the famous Japanese author, Haruki Murakami, and resumed reading from a week earlier at a chapter about a boy who experienced his friend consumed by a tsunami-like wave from a typhoon. I couldn't go to sleep with this burning my mind, so I had to read it.

What is happening? I'm now looking at the TV next to me of the scenes of ravaged towns, and it's still very hard to believe. Let us pray that the nuclear threat is contained, and things can be brought back to order as quickly as possible. In my view, there is no country better suited to deal with such a disaster, culturally, financially, and infrastructurally, but what can humans do against nuclear meltdown and contamination? We'll see won't we.

Tsunami Japan

2011-03-11T20:24:00.002+09:00

Holy s*%t, if you haven't checked the news already, leave this site of flimsy abstractions and check out what's happening in this country of Japan: major damage from earthquakes and tsunami. Here in Toyama on the Sea of Japan, we're about as safe as can be, but on the Pacific side things are real bad. I really don't have anything to say, but am shocked to be seeing this happen ... please send some positive thought waves to eastern Japan if you have the time.