Meeting Fear on a Winter's Morn: The first practice of the New Year

(Why can't I post any friggen pictures?!)

It's been a long three and a half week hiatus from kyudo, and I really didn't want to go this morning when I heard the alarm. However, every day that struggle grows larger, and the fear monger inside scratches deeper on the inside of my skin. Sitting up in my futon, I made the courageous decision to confront all, and put my feet beneath me, gripping a slight pain in the ribs from my two week old run in with the tree on my snowboard. But after I'm up I'm all good. Today is the day. I can sleep when I'm dead; or just take a nap when I get home before work.

It was an uneasy morning. The excitement of returning seemed overwhelmed by an unexplainable anxiety. I didn't know how my ribs would hold up to the bow. I knew I owed money to the dojo. I spent the dark hours of early morning anticipating the alarm. I have extra preparations to make for work this week. I had slight feelings of a stuffed nose which usually come before a cold. And most of all ... my last practice in kyudo was full of getting slapped in the face by the string. In my time away from a real bow and arrow, I've been practicing a bit every few days on a small rubber apparatus meant to replicate the feel of the bow (hey, now), trying to get over the fear of the impending slap, but it doesn't directly help; at least it didn't feel like it this morning.

I was a small brown leaf of holes floating down the river today. Absolutley powerless to the current, I felt like I was just drifting weakly towards the dojo. The only difference between me and the leaf is that I knew there was a waterfall at the end. How it would treat the little leaf left me less than relaxed. All I could do was go through the motions and hope for the best.

While walking through the park towards the dojo I noticed a goofy looking old man crusing on his granny-bike from the opposite direction; certainly not an unusual sight in a Japanese park early in the morning. But after he passed I realized he was one of the usual early-morning kyudo guys. Did he not notice me? I got to the dojo, took a deep breath, and reached to pull the sliding door back ... to no avail. It was dark and locked. Did he ignore me? Avoiding the hassle of explaining to me nobody was there or something else? Probably not.

So I sat and read. This was pleasant. For the first time in a long while I actually have a book that's hard to put down. Not five minutes later I saw Sensei coming in the distance and pretended not to notice, reading to the end of the page. I looked up and we met each other with big uninihibited smiles. Now thinking about it, I'm reminded of this same experience when going back to aikido after a long break. Budo buddies are not just normal friends, they're partners bonded together by very physical and emotional experiences. I say less but feel more with them. I like that.

Anyway, to get on with it so this post doesn't stretch on for another week, my first few pulls at the makiwara (practice hay-barrel you shoot at before the real target) went well. I was anxious about the string, but went forward with a relaxed courage and kept the string farther from my face just in case it did slip out. I was doing it more than one should, but until I get used to shooting without the fear, I'll make that small compromise. Doing that allowed me to pull back almost to my full potential, and Sensei gave me looks and words of approval.

WOW! I don't have to get slapped in the face to do what I love! The string pre-released only once today, but given my expectations, that was happily accepted. I calmly took a break, iced my ear, retrieved my arrows, and started again. In fact, today I hit the target maybe 35% to 40% of the time, which is excellent for me, especially considering the three weeks of no practice.

I left practice with a big smile on my face, and look forward to going again tomorrow morning.

Let's sum up with some bullet points:

Dealing with a hiatus from your practice:

-Just get back to it when you feel like it! I could've gone yesterday, but did have some things to take care of and decided to tend to them and worry about kyudo until the next day. It's just one day. No big deal. If you got stuff to do, you got stuff to do. Budo is supposed to help my life, not replace it ... or something like that.

-Just get back to it! The last point doesn't condone needless avoidance, which will actually enlarge any fears or worries about a return. Who cares about little details that find your mind in the morning just before you leave? Just go. Budo depends a lot upon discipline; this is one of those times you put it to use. Just get to practice.

-You and your training partners/teachers should be happy when you see each other. I'd say returning to a good budo practice should require that big smile you can't hold back when you see each other. I respect my teachers, and trust we are working on true technique. We are all there together to practice this very serious and important skill, and often do so with the strength of our will through great adversity. However, "fun" is the perhaps the single most important factor, I choose to be there, and genuine feelings of happiness underlie it all. Perhaps it's different with others. But I would be dead worried if I walked into the dojo to scowl at those around, and face a disapproving grin from Sensei.

Dealing with a pre-slipping string:

-Practice with the rubber on your own safely in small bits to build confidence. Do so knowing you will not get hit in the face. Breath deeply, relax, and visualize yourself completing the release of the arrow just as you planned, not getting hit in the face.

-Don't compromise the pull of your draw. It will put strange pressure on your hand which will make the string come out early more so than anything else. One must pull with the elbow, and must do so as large as possible. If you don't, your shot will be weak and inaccurate.

-Instead, you can try keeping the string from your face a little more than usual when you initially pull back. After you have pulled back as far as you can, then touch the string to your cheek before you release. Aim. Then release. The movements are supposed to go in that order anyway. During that time, don't blindly forget the possiblity of the string pre-releasing; be ready at any moment to release in case it happens. One shouldn't be afraid, but aware and prepared. (However this is just my opinion and experience now. This is how I am dealing with the issue. Sensei didn't teach me this, and it may be compromising the technique more than I notice. If I find further problems with it I'll post it. Don't take my words here as Truth.)

-The problem is in your hand, specifically, in not keeping the top of your hand flat with the sky and instead letting it turn away from your face allowing the string to slip out. If you keep your hand straight as it should, the string won't slip. I suppose it could be do to other strange things you're doing with your hand inside the kake (glove), like inserting uneccessary muscle tension, but essentially the string slips out because your hand rotates. If you recognize it is this very simple physical act, and not because you suck at everything or are doomed at kyudo forever, or some other imaginary unexplainable phenomenon, things are much more simple. Just take a breath, and practice keeping your hand straight.

...

When you're standing in front of the target at full draw, the cold winter and lack of coffee you had in the morning don't exist.

Kami bless all of you budoka out there on your quests in the new year!

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!

Going Inside

You'd think people living in places far from the equator would have a very strong relationships with their internal selves. Away from that great center line of the Earth, daylight dwindles from the expanding grip of night as winter waxes. Inhabitants of such distant lands reach the solstice and enter a cold that won't retreat for months. Snow, wind, freezing rains. Humans are not meant to venture out in the winter dark, and so, people amass inside large communal dwellings. I think of my two respective homes: the Pacific Northwest of the U.S., and the Hokuriku Region in Japan. Both have very distinctive homes designed to provide cover in the winter.

In the PNW, the indiginous peoples built longhouses.

Hokuriku is famous for gassho-zukuri houses; their construction unique in Japan for resisting the heavy snow falls that come every year in this region of the Sea of Japan.

 

 

Next to the largest shopping center in Toyama City is a print shop. In the window is a large black and white paining of one of these gassho-zukuri houses in winter. There are a few people inside huddled around the fire, and a few people outside in twisted forms. I once sarcastically said to my girlfriend who isn't particularly fond of the snow, "Look, they're dancing!" But it's obvious they're not.

 

Winter is a time unkind to those who cannot find such lodging. For people who have lived in these regions for so many generations, a way of life evolves around the invincible winter. Though I live in this area, I've been to these houses, I'm not sure what the people really did inside. For my home in Washington though, I'm well aware of the dances and art that were created and performed for and by the people during their long winter months.

 

 

My mind also goes to a region that may know long dark winters better than any other culture: Scandanavia. Memories I've never had of pagan rituals come to mind as I visualize their unique art.

 

 

 

In these cold regions, a vast pantheon of gods inhabit each regions' mythologies. My ancestors hailed for who knows how many centuries in such countries of northern Europe. I was raised in the dark and cold pacific north west. Now I live in a region of Japan famous for harsh winters. I can't help but feel a connection to such places known for unwelcome climates. I feel most ... something ... when looking at a dark green forestline blending with fog into a dark afternoon overcast sky. I relax when it rains. Somehow, like one cannot tell what time of day it is in such conditions, I could be there forever, as if the clock has stopped. Somehow, excitement floods in at the sight of snowfall first thing in the morning. If it's dark at five p.m., I wonder in anticipation what I will do for the long night until I sleep.

 

But I also enjoy this due to some kind of happy lonliness. People of old most likely had quite an opposite feeling of winter at times: given that everyone was stuck together in these small dwellings. "What did they do?!" I often ask myself.

 

I think now of a place that is never empty in winter: a gargantuan hall of heat. It is also a place that is never empty in summer, or fall and autumn for that matter. It is the pachinko hall. Pachinko is the most popular form of gambling in Japan. No matter the time of year, the inside will never change from the stimulation overload it provides. The people of often inhabit such places, know the same life, no matter the season, no matter the location.

 

I have a deep fascination for winter and crappy weather, but I wonder if it's all just an image fix. As a modern, my physical dealings with the elements are increasingly limited. Would a screen saver suffice?

 

I turn one one machine to fix it all. It gives me heat, it gives me cold. I turn on one machine to find it all, videos, music, my friends, the news. I have a drink to get up, and one to get down. At this great control panel of modernity, our Great Choice may be just a Great Farce. We want to be up all the time, so when we make choices, it's to maintain that higher location, and change does not occur. Only when going down can we feel something, and scrambling we hurry to find a way to get back up, usually through a means of cash, which we earn from our "sweat"? Our "hard earned pay"? Is that what most people encounter at their work? Winter is a kind of down to many states of humanity, but our control over the beast is more able every year.

 

I think of my kyudo sensei. He goes to the dojo and pulls a bow every single day of the week. Every day he goes through the weather to arrive at the dojo, which is a half open compound: The place from which one shoots is under cover, but the face is open to a field the arrows fly over to a covered target area. If it's cold, he's cold. If it's hot, he's hot. If the weather was erratic and was sunny for a bit, but poured rain for 10 minutes, he knew about it. If he is feeling crappy, he will probably shoot crappy. If he's happy, the bow will tell him. He is a man who knows pretty clearly what is going on every single day of his life. If he doesn't know, at least he's out there trying, in a world with such varied circumstances that at least one source is bound to tell him.

 

I wonder how many days of my life have been a haze, cursed to some inside of myself where I don't really do much at all.

 

I wonder how many winter nights I've been able to go inside of myself and uncover mysteries I think I would never find under a warm starry night in a hamoc.

 

How much are we products of our environment?

 

Very much I would say, and yet there is something that lives, untouched by the outside world. Something that we see only in a dark place where snow and rain cannot fall, where sun cannot light.

Thank you again for reading a post that may seem to have nothing to do with budo, living in Japan, or anything in particular at all.

 

the Great White Fear

First of all ... MERRY CHRISTMAS from a white snowy Japan! All is well here. I wish the best for you all on this very special time of the year. In Japan you'll see lots of Christmas advertising and decorations, there's tons of Christmas cakes everywhere, and I'm sure that the occasional gift is given, but it's just not the same as I'm used to back in good old North America. Though there's more than enough plastic back home too, but there is also a delicious Christmas feast, a decorated tree, a fireplace, and a family to make it all real. It may not be for everybody, but it's a special time for me. I had a skype with the parents, a Christmas feast of sorts, presents exchanged through air-mail, and time with the people I care about most here. It's definitely snowing now.

If only I could get that fireplace ... and a dog.

...

Now for a story about kyudo the other day.

The Great ... White ... Feaaaaaarrrrr!

The string in kyudo is slapping me in the face again, and I'm terrified to the bone.

Lately my biggest problem has been not drawing far enough. Everytime I draw back Sensei says the same thing: "Pull more! Farther!"

That's usually OK but, last week I bought a new kake (glove). Today was the second day I've used it. I'm not used to it yet, it feels weird and so I'm doing weird things with my hand inside the glove which makes it slip out prematurely and slap me in the face.

Usually the main reason this happens is due to not twisting the hand enough in the correct way, but it also has to do with relaxing my hand at the same time. But because I'm afraid of the string slipping out, I'm not relaxing my hand. Sometimes when I pull the string, something feels wrong deep inside of me and if I relax the tension I believe it will slap me in the face.

I need to relax, but I can't. With this, naturally, the further I pull the string and the longer I wait in the draw before the release (two things I should be doing more) the more likely the string will be able to slip out and the more force it will have to hit me. So now my pull is very small and full of tension, instead of large and relaxed. My energy is raised to my shoulders and I'm just waiting to brace myself against the slap.

Today the arrow slipped out about 4 times. When this happens, everyone turns their head and stares at me half in horror, half in confusion. They are shocked, feel bad for me, and don't understand why it happens. I am equally shocked myself, embarrassed, and even more so frustrated. One of the older guys told me to ice my face after the first one. I could care less about a growing red welt on my face, I just want to fix the problem, but I took a break and iced it anyway. Later I shot a few more arrows, and then it slipped out again, early enough not to hit me in the face. That's not painful, but's still hell, and the frustration compounds exponentially. I walked back to take a break for a second and two women asked me some stupid question about it I don't remember exactly like, "It slipped out again?" This was like another slap in the face and I gave a very intense nod of affirmation trying to hide the rage and we just stared at each other for a second. "Why are you talking to me!? I just want to fix this!" is what I was thinking.

Sensei told me to take a break and have some tea. He said I need to change my attitude and that I'm too afraid now. Damn straight I'm afraid! So I took a tea break and talked about completely unrelated things for 5 minutes. I went back to put on my kake, but nothing had changed. All I could think about was the prereleasing sring. I shot a few and then it loosed again. Sensei came and took a look at what I was doing. I pulled the string back full of tense fear, but the arrow luckily didn't come out early. He said, "See! It's alright, don't worry. Just pull back as far as you can." But it doesn't change anything. I hurried up and changed and went to catch my train.

It was the most frustrating walk I've ever made from the dojo to the station. I had this very rare desire to scream as loud as I could. Traffic lights turned red as I approached them. I walked into a bakery to grab something before the train, but a mother, father, and three small children were stopped dead in front of what I wanted so I just turned around and walked out. I climbed the stairs and high school boys were standing in the way looking at their cell phones. After passing thorugh the ticket booth a crowd of high school girls passed giggling in their hiked up skirts talking about absolutley nothing very loudly. Getting off the train and facing the crowds I suddenly remember that everyone stares at me. I think about all the time I put into kyudo that isn't about shooting an arrow. Waking up early and getting ready, walking to the station, spending the money on train tickets, riding the train 20 minutes one way, walking to the dojo, getting dressed in the hakama, getting undrssed out of the hakama, walking back to the station buying another ticket, riding the train again, walking back home just so I can get ready to ride another train to work.

Why do I do all of this?

I love kyudo. It's one of my favorite things in my life now. But now it has been poisoned by the absolute feeling in the art.

Why is this happening?

Is it just because of one small thing I'm doing in my wrist? I don't understand. I know it would be better if I relaxed, but if I do, I know I'll get slapped.

I'm afraid, but just "not being afraid" won't fix this. I cant just say "Zac, don't be afraid," and everything immediately fixes itself. Or would it?

I don't know!

If you get in a car accident and become afraid, just telling yourself to relax and not be afraid won't work. You still have to pay attentiaon to all the same things when you drive. You still have to notice things that mayb be dangerous so you can avoid them, so you still have to be awake and aware. You can't just "Relax, don't be afraid."

I'm now remembering a car accident I was in in high school where I was sitting in the back of a jeep. The completely sober, incredibly stupid driver was going way too fast on a dirt road through the forest. As I was riding in back the tension was on high alert as I felt we were going way too fast. All of a sudden we we skidded through a turn and SHOOT! ... there Zacky Chan flew out of the back of that jeep. I'm now remembering the image of a fast approaching fir tree, then waking up in a hospital. It's the uncontrollable factor that may be the worst. Zacky Chan the passenger flying into this horrible near death concussion from this machine someone else was driving. Zacky Chan pulling the string while it can just slip out at any moment.

But I'm the one holding the string! I could have told the driver to slow down! There is an element of control involved. Where is the line?

I need to consume something. That's what I thought walking out of the dojo. I need to eat or drink something ... but I don't want anything.

Why do I want them if I don't want anything? I don't know, but it's a very clear feeling. I attribute it all to issues of control. I spent all morning getting beat up in kyudo, now I want to take the power back. It's fear. I'm so afraid I'll do anything. It really is true, the caged animal is the most dangerous. No wonder people have addictions to eat, drink, smoke, beat, molest, kill. It's because we don't know how far we control the world, so we don't know how much we're worth, but we want to be good and important, so we're afraid, and take action to compensate. But none of that works, because the problem lies at the root of not knowing and having desire. There is no way we can know, and desire is a natural part of life. Perhaps I'm misguided, but I don't agree with people who say if you meditate through the desire you will come to find enlightenment and know. I don't agree with people who say we need to cut off all desire. I also don't think "just relaxing" is going to fix my problem. But honestly, I don't know how I'm going to fix this problem. I'll do my best to relax, try to return to a place where I wasn't getting slapped in the face, do some researching on the internet and then go to practice ready to try again and ask for help.

I used to get hit in the arm, but that problem has been solved. I've gone through phases of hitting the target a bit, to times not at all, and back up again. I want to be better. I don't want to be afraid.

It's all just relaxing

 

In aikido we learn to relax in movement.

In kyudo we learn to relax while doing something impossible.

In zazen we learn to relax while being human.

It's all just different kinds of relaxing, and all you have to do is just ... relax.

But you can't "just relax". I went to onsen today, and I didn't have anything to do. There was nothing directly in the world that I could say was interfering with my relaxing, and I was arguably in the most relax-easy place in the world. Yet, I was still holding my body instead of letting it go as I've experienced before, and I had something in my mind I couldn't let go of, but it wasn't anything in particular.

You have to practice "just relaxing", but while doing something else. I think "just relaxing" in its essence is sleeping. But when we're awake and we want to relax, we are essentially doing something as well, right? Even if we're sitting there just thinking. It's not "just relaxing", but relaxing while doing something else.

Why can't we "just relax"?

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.

The Moment We Stand

 

You want to take away my answer.

We've come here by no accident.

I stand in front of you. Now what?

I've never turned back before.

I can feel some warmth inside.

 

It only ends in sleep.

By my own hand?

By another's?

By fading time?

We always wake up.