Mugai Ryu Iaido

(A picture of the founder of Mugai-ryu: Tsuji Gettan Sukemochi found at http://www.fudochi.org/cat11/cat15/)

DISCLAIMER: I have only been practicing for about two months, have no other experience in iaido, and have not read much on the art. Also, everything I take in from my class is in Japanese and I don't understand 100% of everything that is said.

You shouldn't believe everything you read anyway.

But to the subject at hand!

I practice Mugai Ryu iaido, one of many different styles in the art of iaido, and I've been anxious to learn what makes it different from other styles.

I've done some research on my own in the internet but haven't found much. Most of the information I got I found on Wikipedia where it talks about the founder of the style, Tsuji Gettan Sukemochi, who was born in 1649. He practiced Yamaguchi-ryu iaido and also studied Zen Buddhism and Classical Chinese Literature. Eventually he created his own style, Mugai, a word taken from a poem that was given to him by his zen teacher (which I have included at the end of this post). Other sources I have read said that Mugai-ryu is influenced greatly by zen philosophy. Like many other budo during the time of relative peace in the Edo Period, budo underwent a lot of transitions from the battlefield to the abstract.

Other than that very small research (please notify me of other sources if you know any on this style!!!) I have what I've been absorbing in the physical practice and talks with my sensei. I'm not sure how much of it overlaps with other styles of iaido, because I don't know anything about other styles, but I'll just mention what my sensei has said is characteristic of Mugai-ryu, which may also be similar to other styles.

When we swing the sword, we don't merely swing down, hit, or rip through anything ... we swing the sword using our wrists to snap the blade forward so that at the moment of impact the tip of the sword falls first (not the hand falling with the blade following), and from there we pull the sword. When we swing forward in the standard strike, we raise the blade above our head, swing forward snapping the wrists so that the blade finds the target as quickly as possible, and then we pull the blade towards our bellies.

Mugai-ryu emphasizes speed, because once you're hit with a blade a cut can be made. Cutting with the blade happens at only a few inches at the end of the blade. Contact with that part of the blade is made, and then pulled to rip open a long cut. There is no idea of cutting all the way through something using bull strength and momentum. We're not focusing on cutting people in half in Mugai-ryu. Mugai-ryu utilizes fast precision cuts to take advantage of distance and timing.

One interesting idea which I think may be very different in other styles is that Mugai-ryu doesn't seek to overtake an opponent with one deadly strike. Many of the wazas I've learned utilize two strikes on one opponent. Often, the first is more of a movement to move faster than the opponent and set him off balance, once that is achieved, the final strike is made.

For example, in one waza we begin sitting in seiza imagining an opponent sitting across from us. Once the opponent starts to move unsheathing the blade, we begin as well. Once the opponent raises the blade above his head for a downward cut, we cut with a diagonal upward slice, but this is not intended to end the opponent there, but more so set him off balance. Once that balance is upset we step forward and strike down on the open opponent. A lot of techniques seem to follow this practice, and sensei says this is characteristic of Mugai-ryu.

To be honest I didn't really like this at first. Idealizing in my head without practice, I would think that you should end an opponent as simply and quickly as possible. Shouldn't you try to do this in one move? Why waste an initial movement that isn't even intended to cut?

I don't have clear answers for this right now, and am left to my own mental meanderings.

One thing our sensei says is that what we are practicing has a long history that is based on real experiences. This style developed this way because of millions of people using the swords over hundreds of years. It was not thought up in isolation and practiced without experimentation. Some of the practices or reasonings may seem strange to us, but then we have 0 experience using a sword to kill someone in battle. With that, you kind of have to trust what your sensei says on this, experience different styles, and judge for yourself.

Another main point sensei is trying to teach us is that the first person who moves or initiates an attack is at a great disadvantage. He tries to explain to us using physical examples and parts of it make sense. This is familiar to me in aikido where most all wazas are in reaction to an incoming attacker (though there are pressing instigating movements like atemi-waza as well). However, something about this seems a bit strange to me, and there's something stuck in my mind similar to Bruce Lee's theory that the best defense is a good offense, that you never defend, and rather press on an opponent to win.

It is on this subject that we begin talking about Katsujinken and Satsujinken. Katsujinken is translated as the life-giving sword. I first read about this from the Edo Period's Yagyu Munenori in his book, "The Life Giving Sword." The implication of this term is that the sword should not be used to kill, but to protect. This is in contrast to the Satsujinken, which is the life-taking sword. Perhaps a Satsujinken style is one that focuses only on successfully killing an opponent with the sword.

The description seems simple, but it's really difficult to differentiate the two isn't it? Of course the sword is used to kill people. In iaido we're learning to swing a sword in order to defeat opponents. If we're not using a sword with the intention of cutting something, then what is the point? Why not do something else? If you're so worried about taking life, why even have a sword?

This conversation seems to come up in my mind and in conversation with others in relation to the martial arts. I think it's popular in the West to practice a martial art with "real" practical ability. What the means exactly I'm not completely sure, but people seem to want to practice the "most effective" martial art which can defeat an opponent as simply and quickly as possible. Though this is said, the image is of violent fast strikes with big muscles. I think of UFC and the idea that it's training the "best" warriors because it pits styles against each other and you're seeing lots of very ferocious young men who probably could kick a lot of people's asses. It's funny that budo also seeks the "most effective" way of doing things by completing an act as simply and quickly as possible, but the image is completely different. But then there isn't one image, because each martial art in budo is completely different.

Back to the point ...

I could imagine talking to a lot of people who would say, "I want to practice the real iaido, the one that is the best at killing people, not some pussy knock off that idealizes not using the sword at all." Perhaps the discussion doesn't have to have such a violent intent, and one could say that they want to practice the most effective sword style, and with that superior ability, develop an idealogy of not killing others. Maybe that's what Mugai-ryu is?

I've had this discussion in aikido often as well. People ask why practice a martial art that emphasizes evading and moving an opponent around instead of just striking and ending an altercation immediately? There's a lot of different ways to go about this, and the discussions could last for hours, and pages, and lifetimes. It's interesting though that although people accept that martial arts aren't used often and that we should follow peace, but then desire to practice the most vicious violent arts out there. It's like they're just saying, "Oh yeah, we shouldn't hurt each other and the art isn't used in practical life ... but I could kill you in two seconds if I wanted to." I think it's an obsession with power and a fear of loss.

The most interesting about all of this though, is the mental position one takes when adopting a particular style. People like to think they can do one thing and yet think another, for example practice a deadly martial art while advocating peace, but people underestimate the ability of the techniques they seek to imprint on their subconscious.

I first realized this idea when practicing Tai Chi and reflecting on my Karate practice. In Karate we practice wazas that are meant to defeat opponents using strong fast strikes. We practice these wazas until they are ingrained inside of us so deeply that we can react using them without thinking. Well, what happens when someone comes up behind you and taps you on the shoulder and you turn around firing a strike right into their face? What happens when you get in an altercation with a drunk person at a bar and end up using a strike that kills or debilitates them? Maybe they hit their head on the curb and bled to death because you knocked them out cold on the street.

What happens when you meet an opposition and your natural inclination is to "defeat" it?

This is dangerous physically to ourselves and others, and develops an aggressive success-obsessed mindset that is afraid of loss. This is an angry prison world damned for hell. You cannot win. You cannot be happy.

To me, this is the Satsujinken, life-taking sword.

So after class I asked sensei about the characterstic of Mugai-ryu where one doesn't seek to cut someone in one strike, but utilizes a few strikes to knock the opponent off balance and then finish. He said it was particular to Mugai-ryu. I asked if there were other styles that focused on cutting someone immediately with one strike and he said of course there were a lot. He then showed us a couple wazas from the Eishin-ryu. I was surprised to see this, and asked him about it. He's practiced different kinds of iai but he decides to teach and follow Mugai-ryu. I asked him if he like Mugai-ryu better than other styles he's known. At an older and higher ranked teacher with a lot of skill and experience, I would assume that he would choose "the best" style.

When answering he said, "I guess it has to do with katsujinken. In Mugai-ryu and in accordance with the katsujinken, a practitioner doesn't necessarily seek to fight an opponent. In fact, a Mugai-ryu practitioner would wait for an opponent to begin a move, but if nothing happened, then nothing happened and there is no reason to fight. Furthermore, maybe someone draws their blade against a Mugai-ryu person and so the Mugai-ryu practitioner draws. Maybe they stand there and the other person realizes the Mugai-ryu person is stronger and decides not to fight. At that point the Mugai-ryu won't mind and the problem can cease. Maybe the other person swings and the Mugai-ryu person cuts them and then they run away. The Mugai-ryu person will not chase them, but will be content without having to kill."

These are all just ideas and discussions. We are talking about various scenarios and ideas. This is a big part of iaido I think.

In aikido we are utilizing practical empty-handed movements, but shy away from talking about it too much and just train having the techniques ingrain themselves and naturally effect us.

Kyudo is so disconnected to modern self-defense that we don't even need to talk much about practical application. We just practice the technique in an honest fashion and that's good enough.

But Iai is another strange world where practicality, cutting instead being cut, and life and death is heavily considered, yet actually using a sword in an altercation is as unlikely as finding a dragon. Like the other arts I've practiced in Japan, I'm focusing on the physical technique: reaching out with the tip of the blade and pulling towards me, moving through the movements of the particular waza. But I'm also thinking and talking a lot with sensei about the philosophy. Perhaps more than other arts Iai allows for philosophical meandering.

But then I don't really know. Practice is fun, so I'll keep going and learning.

I here leave you with the poem from which the Mugai name came from:

一法実無外
乾坤得一貞
吸毛方納密
動着則光精

Ippou jitsu mugai
Kenkon toku ittei
Suimo hou nomitsu
Douchaku soku kousei

"There is nothing other than the One True Way
Heaven and Earth profit from this single Virtue
The fluttering feather knows this secret
To be settled during confusion is to be enlightened and pure"

First Kyudo Tournament & No Competition in Aikido

 

(The pictures included in this post are of a bike ride I took to Jouyama in Kamiichi Town, of my  home Prefecture, Toyama, on this lovely over-cast early spring day-off. Please enjoy.)

Yes! It happened.

The night before I had a very pleasant and relaxing night, going to aikido, watching the current anime of my interest "Darker Than Black", drinking a couple cheap fake Japanese beers ... but then I couldn't go to sleep. So I drank some more, and then fell asleep.

 

The next morning I woke up, nervous, without enough time to drink my coffee, and had temporarily been separated from my wallet. The frantic search-time gave me a chance to finish the coffee and curse about how I couldn't believe I had signed away another precious Sunday to doing something other than not being tied to something I am required to do.

I showed up, signed in, met with Sensei and many others, and got started.

I'd call it a success. It was a great learning experience. It shook me out of my comfortable nest. It introduced me to a lot of new people, dojos, and ways of kyudo. Most importantly, I didn't do anything incredibly stupid, and a few of my shots at the target felt really good.

But as far as awards and hitting the target and all that ...  I wasn't considered a "winner" I guess.

In this kind of kyudo competition you enter in a team of three and shoot eight arrows each ... four arrows in a turn. I hit one ...

One single stinking arrow!

I usually hit more than one in eight, so in a way I am disappointed. But then again, there's a huge difference between one and zero, so I'm happy to get that one. If I got zero though, I probably wouldn't feel any different, and it wouldn't mean anything else at all. I had a couple arrows that felt really good, but just missed. Sensei says that's most important: To know when you made a good shot. Hitting the target represents the achievement of your tangible goal, but doesn't necessarily mean you shot well.

So, overall I feel good about the experience, and in that "overall" kind of wholistic kyudo experience category, I learned a lot. In the dojo every morning I'm chiseling away at the skills I'm developing, putting small bricks into my kyudo castle. But at events like these, you get to step back and look at it all a little better.

 

I spent a lot of time talking to Sensei about certain aspects of shooting, and am making a lot of progress internalizing and slowly producing results. Most of all, in my tenouchi (left hand that holds the bow). This is my weakest point in kyudo, but as mentioned, one that is making progress.

The most memorable part of it all though, is something ... less than exciting. In fact, it might be the opposite of exciting. The tournament was a reminder of how much "not-shooting-arrows" is part of the kyudo experience. I was at the dojo from 9:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. That's seven hours. 10 minutes of that time, I was shooting an arrow. Seriously. That means I spent seven hours and fifty minutes standing around, chatting with people, eating free munchies and drinks, watching kyudo. It wasn't hell ...

but really ...

Seven hours and fifty minutes doing not-kyudo when I was at a kyudo event!

I know how "not-doing-kyudo" is actually also "doing-kyudo" and all those zen philosophical meanderings, but frankly, it's way less interesting when you're actually doing it.

It is true, that we learn a lot about what we do, by not-doing, and sometimes it's fun to talk about these kinds of things in an objective space separate from the mud and sticks of building technique, but it's a space that doesn't require much time. I spend a lot of time "not doing kyudo" in my daily routine. I get it. I'd like to spend that time I devote to "doing kyudo", actually doing kyudo, and leave my philosophical clouds to train rides and drinking parties.

I love kyudo. It's a huge challenge for me. It's a huge challenge for anybody. That's kind of the point. But, budo-wise, sometimes I feel like it doesn't quite click with me like some other arts, like aikido. I love aikido, and I love kyudo, but they are very different. I feel like I can kind of just walk into aikido and fall into the seams of its movement fairly easily. I think I'm naturally good at aikido and pick up on it's nuances quicker than other people. I don't think I'm being over confident, rather just conscious of my strengths and weaknesses. I could tell you a million things I'm less good at than aikido, and a large percentage of those things I'm worse at than the average person. For the discussion at hand, I mention kyudo. Every single movement of the shooting process seems to be a huge leap for me. Improvement takes longer, more obstacles appear, and the truth of failure feels a little more stark than I've felt in other arts. Aside from the techniques, all the other parts seem to take a little more effort to adjust to. With aikido, at least with my dojo, we show up, practice, and enjoy each other's company. We are all searching for truth, but not at the expense of everything else, and we also love drinking together. With kyudo, there's so much extra stuff, and so many different people. That part of doing kyudo, the "not-doing-kyudo", gets to be really big, and sometimes feels like a waste of time.

This certainly is a difficult discussion to conduct.

Lastly, I'd like to end on a positive note with kyudo; specifically, concerning competition. This is a very good thing for kyudo, and any form of budo in my opinion. In a competition, you most likely go to a dojo you're unfamiliar with, other competitors you don't know deeply, and are set out within a limited space that reveals your ability. In front of everybody, most of which are looking very intently at every little bit of you, you must complete the act of shooting an arrow. Actually, you shoot eight, and what you hit is what you hit. There's no "buts" or "maybes". Kyudo is about managing a lot of psychic energy inside of you with a lot of physical technique based on minute movements and balances, and so a lot of getting good at the art is managing these in a place where you can actually start dealing with them: usually a quiet dojo with fellow practitioners and supportive teachers. Competitions shake this all up so that you need to readjust, finding a solid base to shoot from. Some people don't like competition. Some people love it. Most people like the idea of it, but are scared. No matter where you are, participating every once in a while will make you a much better archer. That goes for tests too, but I'll wait for the next one I go through to imbellish this subject.

 

Aikido, my great unquestionable love, on the other hand, has no competition (at least the kind I practice). In aikido, you don't get this kind of experience, which is kind of a shame, really. When you test, you're in a "competition-like-scenario" like I described above: you're set out alone to complete certain techniques, what happens happens, and failure is possible (perhaps the key to all of this competition-testing conversation). However, you can't measure things in a strictly black and white, win-lose, kind of way so easily in aikido. There's too much grey. What is considered winning and success in aikido? Successfully throwing an opponent? Nope, that's judo. Is it successfully being thrown? (A very interesting topic perhaps only aikido could indulge, but yet not clear enough). In aikido there are so many small variables that depend much upon one's partner, it's really difficult to see the benefits of competition might afford, at least for beginners (like me!) You could say randori (aikido's free sparring of sorts where partners attack and one moves with techniques as one would like) is a good form of competition, but first of all, I don't have much experience with it, and two, it's still very difficult to see one's actual ability. The greatest problems I find in people's aikido is when they define a level of success and start chasing after it. The comes in the guise of young agro dudes at seminars throwing each other around with faces that reflect the epic tension of the battle inside. Actually, it's one of the most ridiculous things I've seen in martial arts altogether. These dudes who "go all out" at a seminar showing off to a crowd, of usually none others than aikido practitioners (who should have some idea what's going on) feeling like they're on a battlefield fighting for their lives. You know what is way cooler? The doshu (head of aikido) doing aikido with his partners with skilled technique and a calm expression, as if he's doing this as a demonstration for other practitioners of aikido.

Aikido: such a gem of practical martial arts technique and mode of self cultivation, yet so very often abused.

 

Anyway, this is difficult, too. It seems no matter where you step down with a statement, it leaves you vulnerable to a sweep.

But this blog and budo itself are less about making definitive statements, and more about doing your best and questioning reality.

I'm now left with memories of various very important conversations with my aikido sensei which all ended with the same theme:

"If you think you know aikido, then you have no idea. If you think you're good, then you're failing."

This isn't indulgence in shallow (though helpful) proverbs, but the words of a man who sincerely believes this of his practice.

If you practice an art that has competitions and tournaments, go try one! If not, do your best to shake yourself up. And if you think you know ... well, you probably don't.

Split Your Mind in 2

I've just finished reading the amazing fantasy novel, "The Name of the Wind" by Patrick Rothfuss, and it talks about a magic technique that seems very relevant to kyudo.

The main character is a young boy learning to perform magic, "sympathy" as referred to in the book, and for particular abilities, he must split his mind into two different parts to concentrate on various phenomenon. I can't quote it directly, but I remember being duly impressed by the author's description of such a feat that boggles the logical mind, but nevertheless is a recurring theme in some martial arts and zen philosophy; particularly kyudo, which incorporates qualities of both.

In kyudo, your hands are doing completely different, but equally important jobs. Your left hand is working on the tenouchi, your grip of the bow, which is comprised of holding the bow in the proper way before you release, as well as moving the bow inside your hand in transition through the movements and during the rotation of the bow within your hand during the release. In your right hand, which is inside of a kake (glove), is placed where the arrow is knocked (clipped into the string) and the string is pulled by this hand. The hand must maintain the correct position with the back of the hand facing up (if you've read any of my posts concerning kyudo you know why!), and is responsible for the hanare, release.

Up until now, with about seven months of training, I've gone through correcting and improving a wide array of issues in kyudo form. I think first you have to get to a point where you can stand and learn to safely shoot on your own at the target while generally adhering to the basic principles. That took me about two months (the two month introductory course seemed to successfully achieve this goal.) After that, some main issues have been:

Keeping my back straight. (I had a tendency to lean my chest too far forward for many reasons.)

Turning my head far enough. (It seemed very unnatural to turn it so far at first.)

Positioning my arm and rotating my left hand so I didn't get slapped on the forearm by the string. (I see a few details of the why's concerning this issue, but the problem seriously just disappeared on it's own! Strange stuff.)

Positioning my right hand so that the string doesn't come out too early. (Nightmare. See many previous posts for more details.)

Pulling the string back far enough over your head into a full draw. (Perhaps the number one issue I've been working on recently, and the one that effects shooting the most.)

Scooping the bow in front of you. (When you raise the bow in uchiokoshi, it's not just a straight up movement, but a slightly curving one that resembles scooping up a big net full of water.)

Correct Daisan posture. (After raising the bow over you head, you move into this posture, slowly raising your hands, aligning a correct angle with the target, moving your left hand slightly before the right.)

This doesn't include a lot of smaller issues I haven't really had specific problems with, as well as all of the problems I've never even thought of.

This also includes all of the movements of etiquette that are performed before and after the shooting, like the proper movements for entering and exiting the shooting area in a demonstration, test, or competition, movements for practicing on your own in the dojo, both sitting and standing.

This also includes putting on and taking off your hakama, traditional kyudo super hero outfit, which is by far the most complicated clothing I've worn to date. Doing this by myself took way longer than any one would expect.

This also includes some simple maintenance on your arrows, like fixing deformed feathers, and fixing a fraying string on the bow.

This also includes setting and taking down the targets for shooting and cleaning the dojo.

Wow, I guess I have learned a few things.

ANYWAY! Back to the splitting the mind in two idea ...

Now my current issues are dealing with the left and right hands as mentioned earlier. These seem to be some of the most basic issues in kyudo, but also incredibly difficult facets that remain the focus of practitioners for many long years (now seemingly more so than other parts of technique). Up until now, much time has been spent on them already, but they've finally seemed to override other issues and take the spotlight.

For another explanation of what's happening with my tenouchi (left hand grip on the bow), I'm working on:

1.) Getting a proper grip in the beginning to set up the rest of the movements.

2.) Turning the bow in my tenouchi so that it doesn't break down the form (seemingly the most difficult part right now).

3.) Propelling the arrow forward with the inside base of my thumb, instead of turning my whole hand during the release.

As for my right hand inside of the kake (glove), I'm working on the form of my hanare (release). When you release with the right hand, it should release behind you, as if you're hitting a drum a foot behind you with the back of your hand. I have had a tendency to release my hand up, but instead I need to release it out more in front of me while slightly dropping my elbow.

So during practice, I keep receiving advice concerning one of these.

"Zac, be mindful of your tenouchi and do it like this." (Enter lengthy verbal descriptions and physical examples)

"OK."

"You forgot about your hanare!"

"What the hell! You told me to focus on the tenouchi!"

I don't ever say that last part, but I can't tell you how many times I've heard it howling from the inside of my head. But I also understand that when doing kyudo you have to be mindful of all of these things at the same time, or at least you can't compromise one for the other. I'm aware of the ideal, I just can't put it into practice yet. This is why budo takes so much time. One must practice all of the basics until they are ingrained so deeply in one's movements that they don't require your conscious attention.

It's funny, this phenomenon of not focusing on something that matters often relates to aiming the arrow. While practicing kyudo, I'm working on all of these various things with all of your attention, and so often I don't even aim! So many times Sensei has asked me where I was aiming, and my mind draws a blank, because I totally forgot to do so!

It's amazing, you hit the target a lot more when you consciously aim.

So ... dividing your mind in two:

It is impossible. But you can do it.

Until now I've only been able to do one at a time, but I need to do both. The concentration required is intense, and quiet. Standing there at full draw with all of the tension of the bow between you. Parts of you begin to shake. Eyes staring through the bow in straight into the target. Relaxing your core, rising from the solid trunks of your legs, to your chest and shoulders spreading impossibly outwards, extending your skeleton beyond human design. Slowly the breath is leaving you like a small gas leak, expanding from your tanden (dantien, center 2-3 inches below your navel) in reverse breathing. There in that moment, you split your mind in two, one for each hand. On your left hand you are pressing forward with the base of your left thumb in order to launch the arrow forward at the release. On your right hand, you are preparing to drop your elbow and release your hand forward.

HANARE!

That tension explodes, shooting yourself out of each hand in opposite directions, as well as up through the crown of your head. Your chest expands out, breaking from the center of your heart.

SMACK! The sound of the arrow piercing the paper (or plastic) target.

Split your mind in two while doing something else completely. It feels less like a man doing two different things, and more like God tending to everything from the sky at once. From the sky, in the middle of your mind, deep in your heart, located in your tanden, which exists nowhere, and everywhere.

Kyudo is irrational science. The result is magic.

New Years Gaijin: Small Things and Relaxation

Today I went to kyudo. But kyudo didn't happen. I walked out of the dojo with surprising clarity. Perhaps it was the white sparkling of snow under morning light. So I walked deeper into the park, away from the train station.

Last week I went snowboarding and hit trees twice. Finally my greed and speed caught up with me in the form of large wooden unmoving objects. The details are unneccesary, but I've been left with some terribly sore ribs and a right butt cheek I can't sit on. Last night I practiced the motion of a draw with empty hands, probing to see whether I could make it to kyudo the next day. Since I was a boy I've been constantly involved in the kind of physical activity that often produces injuries, and I've had my share in a wide arena of pursuits. Surprisingly, my mock drawing of a bow produced no pain. Everything that hurts is just the normal things I have to do in my day of walking, getting up, sitting down, turning, etc. So I decided to have a go with it. Trying to compose an explanatory text to Sensei or living in question whether I could pull the bow or not while idling away in my apartment were much more bothersome than just getting up and finding the truth in front of everyone. I went to sleep, and then I did what I always do in situations where physical feats will be tested the next day: I woke up in black fear throughout the morning. In that state of daze, I told myself I wouldn't go.

Then Satomi's alarm went off. I sat up, practiced the draw one more time in the air, and decided to get ready for kyudo.

So I went through the process of getting up, getting ready, and making the transport to the dojo to find it full of high school students. The holiday season in Japan is officially over, but apparently high school students don't go back until tomorrow. I remember working in a Japanese high school and being completely baffled by the schedule around holiday times. Students will finish regular classes and enter a strange half-day schedule of final exams. Afterward they'll come back for another two to three weeks, with another altered half-day schedule (what for?). Then after asking my coworkers and confirming the holiday had started, there were still loads of students around school for club activities or some other kind of classes. Finally holiday would start, usually on a random day during the week, and everything will begin as confusing as it ended. I don't know why. I don't care. I guess I'm like everyone else here now. I just go where I'm supposed to be when people tell me. You may think this a mundane and disreputable skill, but it's one that's taking me a long time to hone. I'm now perfectly comfortable going places I must without any idea as to what I'll be expected to do. This is a big part of Japanese life and education. Thank you Japan! I'm only a little sarcastic here.

Anyway, I walked out of the dojo and roamed. Free in the wonder of nothing! I walked as innocent as the snow is white, just trudging through boot tracks to wherever. It's fun. I've been away from work for two weeks. I got lucky with my schedule this year, and while some of my peers were called to classrooms as early as last Friday, I'm not due until tomorrow, Tuesday. My last day of freedom, made even more open thanks to my misjudging of kyudo schedules. Winter for me is a time of introspection and reflection. But of course this isn't just me. We all tend to crawl inside of ourselves when surrounded by dark snow. And if there is any real tradition in the changing of years, it's looking back at the one we've just finished and planning for that which we will soon fall into. I had two long weeks to do this, but it really isn't until today I've been able to look at things like I imagined. My first week was spent locked in my apartment indulging in the recesses of myself with the help of too much coffee and cheap Japanese beer. The second week was spent at my friends' house in another town and a snowboard trip: a time of excess, sickness, injury, and constant company: not friendly catalysts for honest introspection. The last two days I've spent alone with Satomi, watching Japanese variety shows, going to onsen, and eating home cooked meals. Those have undoubtedly been the most enjoyable days of this whole hiatus from work and budo. Now I am clean, warm, healthy; I can see.

So yes! Let's reflect a bit. I'm a week late for official resolutions, and no doubt you've heard more than you expected by now, but what the hell. Everything in it's right time.

Last spring I knew I wouldn't be leaving my current situation for a year, so I took advantage of that knowledge and filled my plate gargantuan portions of everything; more than I could really do. I told myself, "Don't worry that it is too much. Just do everything. Don't think. Do!"  Well, looking back, I'd say I did a pretty good job of it, and I'm glad I did. I've made deep paths down all those I've treaded. I've had some time to bend over heaving, regaining my breath. Now I sit, and look down the mountain.

I've destroyed a lot of goals I had throughout the past year, necessary victims of wise selection. Now, I'd say I still have enough that shouldn't be able to fit, yet I know it will.

I can do it if I relax.

The last year I bulldozed through it all. A minotaur sprinting to escape his own labyrinth. But I'm not out. It's going to take more than physical determination. Perhaps I've discovered my Mind. All of those unneccessaries I destroyed to make space, where much less physical things than mental barriers. It really is all in the mind. If you can control this one piece of yourself, you can unlock all else. Well, kind of. It's a pretty important part of existence to say the least.

Our lives are Mind. The quality of Mind determines life. That quality, which is a kind of clarity, depends upon relaxation. That relaxation is affected greatly by our physical habits. If we can know this, we can effectively encourage our physical selves to enhance our ability of Mind. This I believe is one of the great keys of martial arts, and one I have been ignorant of for the past year in a lot of ways. I thought if I just "did", the equation would work. It did kind of, but I spent a lot of time running around with my head on fire. A lot of tension and fear emerged. If you can relax, that fire extinguishes, and your Mind can see. Relax, mind the little things, and your judging mind can be used for good instead of folly. So this year I'm going to relax and mind the little things; the details.

Generally, first I'm going to do what it is I need to do, but not without relaxation and thought. As much as I can, I'm going to be careful utilizing "no" and "slow" instead of "now!" and "I have to!".

Next, I'll work on tweaking the small details of my body. Specifically, all the input that goes in. This means trying green tea in the morning instead of coffee, and reading books at night instead of watching TV shows and drinking beer. We'll see how it goes. I love beer, interesting TV shows, and coffee more than just about anything else in life, but that's precisely why they're going to be tampered with. It doesn't need to be a strict black and white regimen, but I'll at least think before opening the beverages and media.

So yeah ... that's my New Year's stuff.

Last night I told myself, "Maybe I can do kyudo, but definitely no aikido." Thwarted from kyudo this morning, I slowly tricked myself into forgetting about my realization concerning aikido and damaged ribs, and have been planning to go to aikido tonight. Before publishing this and heading off for the dojo I just practiced one simple ukemi (fall) on my carpet ...

NO F$#%&)G WAY!

Wow. It makes sense though. All the key things you do in aikido, especially concerning ukemi, require uninhibited use of your core. Rib injuries now seem to be one of the worst in this field. And I know they aren't fast to heal.

Maybe tonight I'll indulge in some forbidden fruits.

Look at that! 10 minutes into the written resolution and he's already forgotten!

Perhaps it will take a while to shake the "young" and "dumb" off this gaijin.

あけましておめでとうございます!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Lying Down Into Winter

I've been away for awhile. If you're into categorizations, you could say I've been in a phase. Almost a month ago I went to a very eye-opening aikido seminar, one that made me think about what is "good aikido", "bad aikido", "why we do aikido", and how I fit into all of that. This was all just after an aikido test. Somehow I had transformed pace into a violent scurry through unfriendly brush straight up the side of the mountain. Exhausted I collapsed, still very far from the top. So I sat, and thought about all this racing. Last night I went for the first time since the seminar, ending an unusually long three week hiatus. Why the absence? The world sucking out my Saturday nights. But actually, that's a bit much. That was me a year ago. In the beginning I could tell aikido to respectively "bugger off" on Saturday nights because I had things to do which didn't include productive effort. Then a year ago, Saturday night became all I had for aikido, and it became a treasure for me to hoard and defend. "Aikido: good. People: bad." Well, I've tried that for a while, and that's not what I want to do anymore. I still certainly love doing aikido, but it's not going to consume any more of my fear. My mental progress chart is a farce. So I burned it, and I won't write another. It's amazing how we go to sleep every night, maybe even in the same futon (bed, what have you) and yet everyday is so different, we cannot go back; we cannot go back. Now I'll go to aikido when I can. If it dwindles to nothing, that's the world turning; something much larger than aikido.

I've been going to kyudo consistently and feeling very good in the practice, but due to winter break (which means high school students invading the dojo) tomorrow will be the first and last practice of this week, and maybe I'll go once or twice for the next two weeks. This is also due to my own holiday: about 10 days of no work, and no obligations but a few end-of-the-year parties and an overnight snowboard trip. This is the first holiday season I've stayed in Japan. On the one hand I'm incredibly excited to have as little stress as possible, and as much opportunity to crawl into my own winter world. Yet that winter world is in a hole, quiet and sparse. I have a very warm home in the mother country of the U.S.A., one I honestly cannot imagine being any better. But instead of being in that home with undoubtedly the most important people in the world, I will be here, in my hole with the few things I have insulated as best I can from the Japanese hive I live within.

In this winter hole, just beneath my mind, ancient subliminal forces glitter in the darkness. They are real, and I wish to know better what they are. So I'll sit and attempt to conjure them out by whatever means I can. I am not dead. I am not frozen. I can change. But that change will not come about from more maddened scheming. I'll need to take a walk, then sit in a tree looking down at the snow. There are beasts to tame. In that realm, we will see aikido's true worth.

 

P.S. Signs of absence from aikido are a tight back, raising of center of gravity, and lack of connection/reaction to your partner. In kyudo, it's not being able to do anything at all.

I Still Don't Know

(picture found at http://legardenie87.blogspot.jp/2010/03/i-dont-know.html)

 

 

I don't know, so I say "onegaishimasu".

In English, it translates as "Thank you in advance." This is true, but it's a literal translation one thinks about; and so it's not quite understood with words alone. If you don't understand completely, it's not because you're stupid because you're supposed to understand, it's just you probably haven't had much experience with the term. We also certainly don't need to repent. Just go into the world and say onegaishimasu. After being in situations where you onegaishimasu, you begin to unfold understanding. Onegaishimasu is a kind of "please." You say this word before you start something with another force in which you will commit yourself to understanding. When you say this word, you humble yourself, and make yourself an "empty cup" as the saying goes.

After you say onegaishimasu, you begin a process of uke. As an uke you receive something. One could say we are an uke when we watch or listen to media, ride in trains and cars, or consume things like food, drinks, drugs, etc. For modern people living in first world nations, we spend a lot of our time in uke, but I don't think many people notice this phenomenon. That's OK. Again, if one doesn't understand, it's not because they are stupid, they just haven't had experience saying the word, or abstracting about the concept. That being said, it's not like we as moderns are redefining uke with all the stuff we are receiving. This is an ancient term that applies to all humanity from it's beginning, which is nature; past, present, and future. When we uke, we are essentially receiving, but we are not completely passive. Our participation depends on what and how we receive it, but no matter what, we are participating. We are uke when we are sitting on the couch watching TV drinking beer. We are also uke when we are fully engaged in an aikido technique being thrown or put into lock. We are uke when we taking notes in a classroom. We are also uke when we bow before entering a shrine. It's a term that applies to a wide variety of situations, and yet it's a very specific part of the universe.

I don't know, so I go to a teacher and I say, "onegaishimasu." Then I begin uke. This is very easy for me because I don't know much. It's very easy for me because I've had a lot of good teachers. A good teacher is a balance of intelligence (practical ability) and benevolence (honesty).

I went to an aikido seminar today, and I'm absolutely overflowing with things I want to say, but it's too much right now. This is what has been written. As time passes, I will grow farther away from the experience and may not discuss all of the different aspects of the experience. But that's alright, because it's all the same.

Anyway, this is all for now.

Be conscious of your uke! Are you thankful? Dissatisfied?

I don't know!

(Picture found at http://landsofwisdom.com/?p=3073)

Tenouchi: A Grip on Life

(tenouchi)

 

I want to go high places so I look up.

I want to go far places so I leave.

I want places I don't know.

If I already knew a place, I wouldn't want to go.

I want to go, and I don't know. So, I study and build a plan. In order to achieve the goal I protect the plan. A man with a plan in the world: a precarious situation indeed.

How I deal with my plan largely depends on how I fix my tenouchi (left hand grip on the bow in kyudo). As I've mentioned before, budo is often simply just putting the right things in the right places at the right times. This has very little to do with mere physical strength. Nor does it concern the kind of tenacity that blows through obstacles no matter what. It's a game of sensitivity. My teachers tell me specific points that will help me improve my technique. I listen to them and do my best to imitate, but it's not perfect. This is because I try to do what they do utilizing my strength and determination; they do it by just doing it. They utilize only what is necessary to complete the goal while I bring the whole toolbox. "But what if you need more?!" "But you don't."

"Relax" they say. "Strength will not help you."

I watch my teachers do their tenouchi close up on a small-scale and I see exactly what they mean. Their analogies make perfect sense. But, when I stand up there in front of the target, I find myself wrestling against the strength of the bow. This is the part that is hard to explain, not just for me on a blog but also teachers in the dojo.

Very mysterious stuff, this kyudo. And yet, it's all just putting the right things in the right places at the right times.

Oh yeah! I almost forgot about my apocalyptic struggle to understand life and do everything right. So, it's obvious that what isn't going to help me in life is pure strength and determination. A bit of those two things are necessary to be alive, and used in the right circumstances will greatly contribute to my growth, but beyond what I need, I don't need. Instead of blowing through life in order to protect my goal, I need to sit a bit, quietly watch, and treat my actions softly. Holding the bow in kyudo should be like just holding anything. If you're holding it, you're holding it. You don't need to squeeze it as hard as possible. If I'm living, I'm living. I don't need to live as hard as possible, or whatever. I have goals and plans rooted in my imagination, and I will continue to formulate and execute them, to much failure and suffering I imagine, but acceptance of those kinds of circumstances is paramount, just like vision to understand the situation and adapt as needed.

Fundamentally, this is the soft overcoming the hard. We are malleable entities, engaged with other various substances in the world, many of which stronger than us. We can choose to confront them with our own strength which only has two outcomes: breaking ourselves or breaking the other. Personally, I want niether of these. Perhaps we don't notice it so much when we break others (stepping on bugs, intimidating others from confronting us, our immune system fighting off viruses), so for now I'm more concerned about the possibility of me breaking under others, which is something I don't want. If I can't use strength, then I have to use something else. Here we have many options. I can creep into the cracks of the strong and break it from the inside. I could ride the strong and use it's power to my advantage. I could get out of the way of the strong and not even deal with the hassle. (Aikido analyzes this well with its geometric philosophy concerning the square, circle, and triangle.)What I am concerned with is being weak, because I am so, concerning my points of focus. I cannot break my goals like I may think I want. (Isn't it strange that initially we want to be stronger than the world and we never want to lose, and then sometimes, often subconsciously, we don't want to win, and in fact want to lose?)

Perhaps one of the biggest faults of the Hard is that it has a very warped vision of time. Either there is no time and things must happen now, or there is time and things must happen now. For the Soft, there is either no time so nothing needs to happen, or there is time and nothing needs to happen now.

"Need." What do you need? This need will make you hard and easily overcome.

We are human. We have needs. We will die because of link with need.

In order not to end on such a morbid note, I'll tell you about something interesting I learned about my kyudojo the other day.

It's a place of wonder, our small kyudojo. It's in the center of Kojo Koen, a large park that used to be the site of a castle (I'm 99% sure), and it's by far the most impressive park I've seen in Toyama Prefecture. It has a giant moat and indirect walking passages through it, some of the more notable features of it's feudal past. It's full of beatiful vegetation, some natural and some intentionally placed. There are rivers, small hills, and a few wide fields. Also, there are various centers, museums, and even a small zoo. In the very center of the park is a large shrine. Next to that shrine is our dojo. Because it's located in this kind of park next to this kind of shrine, I assumed the dojo had a very old history dating back before the modern periods of Japan, an innocent time before contact with the West. But I was very wrong. It's actually not that old of a dojo at all with respect to my deep imagination of Japanese history. It's about 40 years old, and was built from the pocket money of one man. (!!!) One of the first things I noticed about kyudo was the need for so much expensive stuff and places. The person who explained this to me told me the price, but I've already forgotten it. To be sure though, it's an unbelievable feat. After it was built, the man said that it should be a place for people who want to come to kyudo. Nobody has to do kyudo. If one comes to do kyudo, it should be based upon their own individual desire to enjoy the experience.

I will walk into the dojo from now on with that thought in mind.

(this is not Kojo Koen)

Stupid Gaijin: You Do What You Want

I usually make a point not to swear when writing on the blog, but it may come out tonight.

I had my aikido test tonight. It went well. Yet feelings are greatly unsettled. Maybe it's the feelings of a birthday as well mixed in. Definitely it is, but it's not just that, it's so many things; too many things.

I have some very Japanese goals, but I'm American. This can complicate things.

I feel like I'm eating some of the words I wrote two posts ago about seeing my budo goals in Toyama through to the end, that me with the blazing optimistic side that chooses a path and pours forth all energy to its means in the moment. Tonight I asked about future tests, and the answers were less than I desired. But what do I desire? My black belt as soon as possible. That's not a good place to start from. Specifically ... actually, I don't have the time to talk about specifics. I want the belt as soon as possible and it may not come as quickly as I imagined, that's it. According to conversations I had tonight according to papers, it looks like it may take until next next March. That pisses me off. If I wanted just the black belt, and I enjoyed it all, then it would be easy. But I don't. I want to do a lot more: so much more listing that as well just annoys the shit out of me.

Thinking about doing budo annoys the shit out of me right now. Thinking about all the other things I want to do annoy the shit out of me. It's the thoughts, the schedules, those that I've built around the thoughts I think; this intricate world I've created; a world where only things I have created exist; trust me, it's really boring.

Back to aikido for a second before I digress for a while: it pisses me off about testing times, and that's not good because we're not supposed to focus solely on that. So one ideal version is a me that just continues to practice naturally and the ranks follow ... but I'm not progressing much, at least not as much as I want. So even if I get the belt, it will be the product of time instead of the ability I want. Anybody can get the belt according to the time. This nullifies its special nature I believe it has. This is fucked. So I leave, and see what happens. But that burns the castle I've built. If I really want to be good at aikido, this is not the place for me now. But if my thoughts mean anything, then I must stay.

The path of budo is freedom. It is without limitations. And yet it is in this world of limitations. This is the puzzle we live in. It's not supposed to make sense. We aren't supposed to understand aikido, and yet we are. This is so much more than words. So much that the words disgust me a bit at the moment.

Budo is about a feeling, an intuition. But isn't it also about success? Isn't success the goal: the target we shoot at? I feel a lot, a lot of different things. So which do I follow? I don't know. That's not really all that much of a problem, except there's a lot of things claiming they do know, and they're all dictating different information. I listen to a lot of them intently. I believe none of them know and tired of being led on. I guess this is the reality of existentialism. There is no god, there is nothing. Budo is bigger than I thought. It says this, it says that, then it says it's nothing.

The problem is we follow our instincts into these holes that aren't exactly where we want to be. So what do we do there in the middle of the dark tunnel? We walk? I guess it's more like a dark forest. Or maybe just dark space, where walking doesn't do anything, and we just float.

I've been in dark forests before, and what feels good is just running. Then you wake up and you're not running anymore, that doesn't feel good.

I don't want to be boring. If I could settle on one thing maybe that's it. Fuck budo. Fuck the castle I've built. Just because I want it to be good, and have invested so much fear into it doesn't mean it's great.

The Apocalypse doesn't amaze me. It makes perfect sense. I've said this before. Especially concerning young adult males, the violent mass destruction makes perfect sense. No wonder history is filled with wars. For what? Who cares. Most people don't think that far. We just crave the feeling of the Ultimate ... something. Preparing everything for death. Living everything for life. It goes both ways. But each time you invest in one you discount the other, limiting yourself: wrong. So you need to balance the impossibility of both. People bash Christianity for its emphasis on faith, and yet that's exactly what any other holistic belief system relies upon (budo, buddhism, what have you). Not even religions, what does science show us? There is an answer to everything, but we cannot know all the answers. What do I know, I always sucked at science anyway.

It amazes me how much we need each other as the human species, because we are who mislead each other. Again, this terrible knot.

Sometimes it makes sense. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes I feel like I can understand without understanding. I keep making the cycle, and it looks like I won't be getting out anytime soon.

Maybe that's what pisses me off so much: I keep learning lessons, but they get forgotten so fast. If my purpose is anything in particular, it renders life sterile.

Art comes in many forms. Does that include taking my laundry down? Because I really don't want to fucking do that right now.

Sleep. Clean the tiny apartment (I dreamed it grew bigger last night, it was awesome). Go out to dinner with the girl to my favorite restaurant. See what happens. Ladeeda.

Burning Castles

 

 Stone set in the earth,

 

then, crack!

The gravity of Change,

channeled to a point.



Another castle is burning.

 



How long does one wait to flee its flames?

The Fall Routine: It's a Revolution!

 

I can only get two days of kyudo this week.

Just like last week.

I can't study Japanese like I used to.

What the hell am I going to do on the rush hour train to aikido tonight?

I can't save money like my friends.

All the complaining.

 

This is not OK.

I am "bad".

No. Fight.

But I won't be able to relax?

Shutup. You'll have skills.

I'll be tired.

Then drink coffee.

But what about having fun?

Drink at night.

What about something new?

Schedule it in.

The other weekend I went out drinking all night with the other English teachers after a seminar. I realized how amazing some of them realy are, especially one. He'll be leaving soon, and it disturbs me that I totally overlooked his presence. I wish I could have hung out with him more. There's just no time.

The other morning I slept in with my girlfriend and had all morning and afternoon to hang out, and we did. I struggled to relax as my mind searched for ways to make the day useful.

I'm waging a war with life and it's costing me everything: My health, my sanity, my friends, and anything else that isn't part of my megalomaniacal scheme to be different, better, or worthy.

The stagnant gargantuan summer humidity has dissipated across the sea. Now, red autumn razors fall from the sky. The early night breeze slices eyes and I see that I have never been here before.

 

There is so much of me I don't need. Collections of habits and modes of thought I've been reluctant to let pass. I've just been collecting and adding them together, conscious that it is too much, but negligent of the results it will bring. Well, it's time for a revolution. Not just a reformation, but a complete turning upside down of the central mode of thought. Until now the idea has been to fill every second with something contributing to my betterment. It's been a year. If I actually upgraded skills as I had planned, then I guess I have them. What I see now is that what it really did was create or reveal a lot of monsters. What I have learned is that it cannot go on like this. Now I understand what needs to happen: relaxation, enjoyment, Truth, being.

 

How does that sound? A bit too much like the New Age section in Barnes and Noble?

Well, lets get back to budo.

If there is one most fundamental and ultimate principle I've experienced in my martial arts experience, it's ...

 

Relaxation.

But relaxation alone won't get things done.

There's focus. It's in a look. The spine is straight. There is tension. They eyes are open, focused on everything; the essence of looking is found in just "looking" itself. No extra anything is being used. Deep breathing.

I didn't really talk about budo there, but how about here. I have never had a teacher tell me to tense up before a technique (with the exception of kiai, but even that isn't a simple tensing of muscles, or even contradictory to relaxing). If there's one most commonly used phrase from all of the budo teachers I have ever had, it is "relax." Looking now at any budo skill I employ, all of them would be instantly improved by more relaxation. In fact, it seems that what martial arts are trying to teach us is that it's about relaxing and then putting things in the right place in time. If I could learn to do this in the martial arts, it would help my daily life, and vice versa wouldn't it? That's the idea at least.

Then there's "fun". I remember listening to my coaches in sports give long explanations on strategies and the need to give it our all, but they always finished with, "And don't forget the most important thing to do out there is have fun." I didn't think much of it then, but it's starting to make sense.

Fun is really why I continute to put so much time and effort into martial arts. I perform my best when I'm having fun. But it's not just that immediate feeling of fun, it's also propelled by interest. If you are interested in something, and having fun, then you are already in the best possible position to progress. Interest is what really allows me to practice consistently. Practicing consistently is what leads to progress. Progress is what I want. So I must follow that small gem of "fun" if I want to get what I want, or perhaps good things I've never even thought of.

Let's go back to relaxation for a second. Relaxation isn't merely the physical relaxation of muscles which will enhance the physical movement required in martial arts, it opens up one's awareness. If you are full of stress, then that is all you have. If you fill your mind completely, then whatever it is you filled it with is all you are going to see. How are you supposed to react to violent physical threats if you can't see them coming? How can you experience anything new at all for that matter? It's the same with our bodies, if your arm is tense and you want to throw a punch, you first have to relax your arm and then move it. This is a big waste of time and energy. However, if the arm is already relaxed, it can freely move to it's target. Economical action of the body, and mind, are what allow for survival and growth.

With my new adoption of relaxation and fun, I've been playing my Nintendo 3DS on the trains. The other day I was playing the new Super Mario. It was frustrating. In video games you operate within a limited world of places you can go and things you can do, etc. You have to do just what you're supposed to, but why do you do it? The answer usually is because you want to, because it's fun. Otherwise you just wouldn't play the game. This human life is just like that! But it operates on a much broader scale; one we are submerged in and cannot escape from.

 

So why do we do what we do? Because we like it? What about it do we like? How do you know?

There is so much in my life that I don't have to do, but I do anyway. A lot of those things I am convinced are needs ... but how do I know if I really need them or not?

By seeing them.

Seeing is separating yourself from yourself, creating a space in which you can breathe and see. From that space you can see patterns and causes and effects more clearly, you can see better what is really needed. Seeing is the key.

In order to see we must wait. In order to wait we must be patient. In order to be patient we must relax.

In order to wait we must be OK with not-doing, not-having.

This runs contradictory to myself, and every human being I suppose. This not-doing, not-having, not-needing self. If there's space, then you fill it. Space is nothing. "Space is waste!" they say.

But this seeing is wisdom, this separating ourselves from ourselves. This is a good thing. And yet, it is still a small picture, because we are one and everything, we really can't separate ourselves from ourselves. So, the commonality is being. Just being itself. This being is "us" no matter what, in a direction of absolute honesty, absolute survival. No matter which "ourselves" we are looking at or thinking about, I believe this is true. We can do it well, or we can do it not well. I'm not sure how to explain it, but something is better when our wise effort is utilized.

 

I'm rambling into the pits of things I cannot accurately describe. But do you see what is the logical result of this discussion? Do you see what action is needed to put things right? That action to see, to relax, to be?

Zazen.

But I'm not going to say zazen anymore because it is a very specific word with a particular practice and image, and I don't follow it exactly. But the basic idea is the same. What I do is sit; sitting Zacky Chan style. Perhaps I'll describe it in a post in the near future, but for now, this is fine.

This is the revolution: A dropping off of the need to need all of these things that I really don't need, and in that fertile ground that is left, sitting. From there, seeing those things that I want in my life, and seeing what kind of routine follows, which is certainly not empty.

So here is my fall routine.

     Do:
          -kyudo and aikido
          -sit everyday
          -read what I like (English fantasy novels and Japanese manga) and play Nintendo 3DS
          -write on the blog

     Don't:
          -have my own personal martial arts routine
          -have a Japanese study routine
          -fill up every second of time
          -do extra eikaiwa for money
          -buy food and drinks just to distract or energize myself
          -worry

 

Nobody knows these mountains.

Where are the bears and boars?

It's so simple. I'll never get bored here.



Climbing Hakusan and Temporarily Getting Over Myself

 

Goal: Climb Haku-san (a famous mountain in Ishikawa Prefecture) in the best way possible.

Plan: Take trains and buses to the base of the mountain at a very inconvenient time of 9:00am in which I will wait all day, camp, and leave before sunrise the next day in order to experience the best weather conditions possible. Climb Haku-san that day, camp again, and wake up again before sunrise to descend with the best weather possible. On the last day, hike down, followed by the long transit home by more trains and buses. 3 days maximum Haku-san experience.

Problems: A waste of a the first day just sitting on my thumb reading about zen and scribbling nonsense. The last day being unneccessarily long.

Solution: Just go.

 

 

I had this situation of ... me, Hakusan, the weather, the time, and everything else in the world as pieces of a puzzle I had been working on putting together in the perfect way. How could I get it seamless? My answer to the equation, according to precise calculations, was "the best way" to climb Hakusan. But that's no the most important part; climbing Hakusan, that is. I can pretend, train to believe, and declare, arriving at Hakusan at the most perfect time determined by my mind is most important, but it's not.

I know this because of many reasons. The weather was beautiful when the bus approached the base of the mountain. I was abundantly flowing with young male mountain climbing-ness. Because everyone else was doing it. Because if I left that day, I would have a whole night and day to explore the small town of Echizen-Ouno and Fukui City. Because maybe the experience of climbing the mountain at that moment would produce and experience greater than that I had imagined. Perhaps leaving that day would be an experience more horrible than I could ever imagine, but that would be OK too. I decided to leave that morning because it sounded like fun, and I thought the me that had planned all of this looked incredibly small and stubborn; silly and undesirable. Perhaps if I made the decision to leave, I could somehow begin cultivating a me that I liked better than the one that planned vainly for perfection in dark shadows. But that's going too far. That's a thought, but not the one that tipped the scale. Perhaps that thought was in debt to the squabbling self it was pointing the finger at.

 

Anyway, I left. It was epic. Beautiful weather. I was climbing the mountain with the masses of other Japanese climbers I somehow didn't expect to see. I passed everyone on the way up with a pack much heavier than everyone elses. I'm beyond being proud of this. However I was deeply insulted by a couple who succeeded in passing me. I took pains to notice that they had tiny packs, signifying that they were just making the trip up and down. For some reason it was OK that they passed me then. It seems after my enlightening decision to accept the current situation and climb was not one to save me from still making egotistic judgements of my seemingly innocent surrounding parties.

 

It was beautiful weather until the top. Just as I had suspected, between 1 and 2 o`clock when I would reach the top, it became covered by thick white clouds, blocking vision of anything more than the rocky summit I stood upon. But I expected this to happen when I decided to depart that morning. I have climbed so many mountains to find myself blind at the top like this. It's all good. I climbed down to my campsite, set up shop, read about zen and scribbled small thoughts on paper, watched the sunset, ate my tuna fish and strawberry jam english muffin sandwiches for dinner and went to sleep before 7pm.

 

Darkness brought the usual frenzied dreams I have in tents before long hikes. I woke up prematurely around 12am, and stayed awake for an uncomfortable duration, but was surprsied to hear my alarm at 3:30 in the morning and desired more sleep. Regardless, I awoke. I was not alone in waking, but I didn't see any one else leaving within the long hour I took to get ready. "What is everyone doing?" They came all this way, and even woke up at the right time, but are squandering their time here at the camp when the world's most beautiful moment is about to be revealed an hour hike ahead at the next peak.

As I climbed, black slowly faded to blue, and the stars diminished. Still climbing, the impending sunrise boiled a fuel stronger than any coffee inside of me. Tired legs were invisible as I scrambled the rocks to the peak in front of me: that platform where I would see all that I desired.

I was not disappointed. Just before the sun rose, it's light fell upon the other sides of the mountains in the distance. I saw the sillhouetes of my best friends: Tsurugidake, Tateyama, Yakushidake. Yarigatake, Hotakadake. All friends I stumbled upon to reach their peaks in order to see others. Now I was on top of Hakusan: a mountain I had so many times seen as an island above the clouds from elsewhere. But now I was there! And I saw new mountains. Norikura and Ontake sat before me like new worlds I must find myself atop. The feeling is inexpressable. My words are faulty and immature. The pictures warped by my camera. Budo is my practice, but mountain climbing is the adventure. I am alone. I am not lonely. I do not want others here. It's not that I don't want them there, I just don't want to listen to people talk. I just don't want to wait for other people to get ready when I'm already packed. I don't want to worry about someone wanting to leave before I do. I have many interests, but when climbing mountains this feels the most ... something. I think the only other person that understands this part of me is my brother, and yet I've never talked about this with him. On top of these mountains I find roots much deeper than budo, much deeper than education. There's only love, and then there's thought, and then there's usually something else. And it's gone.

I climbed along the ridges of other mountains in the Hakusan area and made my descent ... with beautiful weather and stunning scenery. Many texts say my mind should be empty so I can experience the world as it is. Well, the problem with that is that my mind is also a part of the world, and actually a pretty big part since it's situated right in the middle of my head. So I have these dialogues with myself about the world and then look up at the scenery, surprised as if it weren't there a minute ago and say, "Whoa." Then I'm back in my mind. Some people like to think about spirit animals and other such non-sense; I am one of those people. Perhaps people usually think of impressive animals: "I'm a tiger." "I'm a wolf." "I'm a dragon." Or I think that's what most young adult males think. Anyway, I get the image of myself as a wolverine sometimes. Does that sound cool? Will that animal forever be limited by the comic book character named after him? The image isn't really all that impressive. It feels like I'm a lonely creature scrambling awkwardly across rocky cold peaks, scavenging and burrowing, alone and busy away from all else.

The rest of the hike down was painfully enjoyable: beautiful scenery accompanied by pains in the legs from relentless descent. That's all normal, but one part of the guidebook I read I didn't pay much attention to (perhaps the author purposely left out extra detail on the matter) was a two hour walk along a road to the final destination of an onsen from where I would take a bus. Plenty of cars passed, but the surly mountain mammal just grumbled ahead. Next time, I'm hitching.

 

I got to the onsen to find I was thirty minutes too late to get in the bath. It wasn't really that fact, but the manner in which I learned this from a grumpy old man who was apparently responsible for things at the time I arrived. I set up shop outside to make my last tuna fish and strawberry jam english muffin sandwiches only to see him shake his hand in front of me and say "dame" ("bad")

"dame?"

"dame."

He pointed to the bench located across the gravel parking lot in front of the benches where I should continue such activities for the next few hours until my bus came. It took my about 30 minutes to move my things, make the sandwich, eat it, and curse him. Then I decided to fall asleep. I woke up a half an hour later and decided to buy a beer from the vending machine from the old man's establishment. I crossed that gravel parking lot to make my transaction with the vending machine. Success. I put the coins in, got the beer, and returned. Soon after, I heard an extremely week "Oy!" cry from the empty porch of the hotel. It was the old man. I looked at him for a moment, and he continued "Oy"ing in my direction so I put down the beer and started walking towards him. For some reason, the walk became a jog and I arrived just before him. "Onsen OK".

"OK?"

"OK."

By Jove the heavens have shifted and this old man has decided to let me take a bath! Hallelueha!

Took the bath.

Rode a bus to the small castle town of Echizen Ouno. Then caught a train to Fukui City.

I drank a bunch of sake and ate fish with two very strange sake-drunk dudes.

Woke up the next day more hungover than I wanted, sightsaw Fukui City, went back to Toyama City.

Then it was back to work ... where I still am ... at.

 

Here is a story from the "Shobogenzo" I would like to share with you here which I found in my most recently read book about zen, "To Meet the Real Dragon" by Gudo Nishijima.

"One day a young monk told Master Dogen that he had a sincere desire to enter a temple and devote himself fully to the study of Buddhism, but that he hesitated to do so because of his family obligations. His mother was very old and completely dependent on him for support. If he entered a temple, he could no longer send her money and she would soon die. What should he do in such a situation?

"Master Dogen's answer was very candid and realistic. He said, 'That is a very difficult question. Even I cannot answer that question for you. It is your problem and only you can find the right answer. However, I feel that there might be a way for you to become a priest and still provide for your mother's health and security. It might be difficult, but if we have a sincere will to do something, a way can usually be found. So I hope you can find such a way. I hope you will be able to support your aged mother and, at the same time, devote yourself to Buddhism by becoming a priest.'"