Musings on the Five Element Theory and the Martial Arts

This is with respect to the Japanese five element theory: godai (earth, water, fire, wind, void), and not the Chinese five element theory (earth, wood, fire, metal, water) which is equally interesting, but not what I'm talking about here. I've been fascinated by such element theories since I was a kid. I'm not sure exactly why. Perhaps it has something to do with the creative categorization of the world. Perhaps it's the connection to nature, or the ability to dissect all phenomenon into parts which we can focus upon individually. Anyway, it's something often on my mind and thought I would share some of those abstractions with you here.

There are set specifics in this godai with characteristics of each element (basic info can be found here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Five_elements_(Japanese_philosophy). I'm aware of these, but also let my imagination take hold and change them how I see fit. Maybe there's more than one way to see them. What is written below is pure unedited thought.

Earth:
Earth is simple, it's the physical world which we touch and feel and interact with. It is the stones and rocks and solid ground, it is also the trees and plants, and it is also the animals and humans. Lessons are immediate and effective: we touch, we feel, we know. It's cause and effect and the basic world all of us operate on together.

I think of karate. We punch and kick and block and move. We use our bodies to learn simple wazas and katas. It is simple empty handed techniques based on practicality. Danger comes, we neutralize and conquer or evade.

Like deer and foxes in the woods, we wake up, eat, live, die. We must survive. This is earth.

Water:
Water is intelligence. We utilize earth to survive and operate in the world because this is necessary. But water is a better way to engage the world, a smarter way. We see water's effortless movement, its purity, its patience and its immortality. We also see it overcome the solid earth. Water is cultivation and refinement. We are the stones that become polished by utilizing water.

I think of aikido and tai chi. By using softness, fluidity, and intelligent anatomical alignments, the muscles are not needed and one can overcome the stronger and faster. It's learning to breath through our movements and overcome somebody without using force generated by excess effort.

Fire:
Fire is fierce and consuming. It doesn't reason or pity, it just burns, and burns everything it can as long as possible. It is the harsh lessons of life that burn us with no regard for our safety. It is that which will overcome us if we do not protect ourselves against it. Even attempting to protect ourself against it we can be defeated. It cares nothing for feelings or abstract justice, it is chaos bent on nothing more than consumption.

I think of blades, like swords and knives. Think of this because of the intent to kill. One does not use a blade unless it's life and death, not unless the intent is to kill. Lessons learned by the sword are sharp and bloody.

It is the world of real violence whether we like it or not.

Wind:
Wind is ... difficult ... I think it is high technique, perhaps otherworldly. High, way high above the realms of humans and trees and animals and mountains is the world of the highways of the wind. It is an ever changing powerful world of wind, and to navigate it requires utilizing all of the phenomenon around at once. Wind is not simply one thing moving pushing through the air, but an ever changing world of displacement. The wind blows in a multitude of directions at different times. For birds, they do not simply flap their wings and fly, but soar and glide and dive. Motionless in the sky, hawks utilize a multitude of different kind of feathers each that react differently to the subtle changes of the wind. At the moment that hawk wants to dive, he but makes small changes and enters the flow of the winds to fall at lightning speed.

I think of archery. In archery we utilize tools to achieve goals normally unattainable by humans: shooting something from a distance. It requires intelligence of design and physics. It's utilization requires a find balance of using our bodies to manipulate the equipment while also getting out of the way as much as possible to let the machine move on its own. In kyudo, we must use our muscles intelligently, in a genius way, to shoot the bow at its full capacity.

Void:
Void is nothing, and yet it is responsible for nothing. It comes after all of the other elements as the most advanced stage, and yet it was there before all of them existed. All of the others were able to exist because of the void's existence, or non-existence. From this void comes the potential of our world. Then all of the phenomenon changes perpetually, and within the sinews of that change is the void, allowing for that change to come to pass. It is the beginning, the end, and the transitions. Because we talk about it, it is. But really, it's nothing at all.

I think of no-martial art. It is us interacting with the world, reacting to different phenomenon before the use of thought. Once thought emerges and is utilized, it is a child of the void. The void is us reacting to someone attacking us or stealing something from us. It is what we experience after un-learning a technique. It is responsible for what we do, and then it is the space afterward allowing for reflection and change.

Thank you for reading my ramblings!

Benefits of Fear

Fear sucks, but it's often said that it can help you improve.

How?

I'll give you a few reasons here stemming from one example: the string pre-releasing in Kyudo.

First you raise the bow in front and above yourself in uchiokoshi.

 

(Dude, I think I know this guy! I found it off a website from Oyabe which is in Toyama. I'm 99% sure I've seen this guy at tournaments. Pictures found at http://oyabekyudoukai.web.fc2.com/shaho.html)

 



Then you pull a third of the draw moving into daisan.

 

From there you perform the draw, hikiwake, and settle into the full draw, kai, in which you stretch yourself out in both directions for about 8 seconds.

It's usually in the drawing process (hikiwake or kai) that the string can slip out of your grip and slap you in the face. I went through a phase of chronic pre-slipping, and it still lingers everytime I pull in the guise of fear. When the string slips, it either completely ruins the technique or most likely slaps you in the face which really hurts, is a huge shock, and is incredibly embarrassing. This sucks. The prospect of this happening sucks. There is fear, and that initially sucks.

However, that fear can help us improve in two important ways.

First, the fear makes us smarter.

When I enter the draw, I know that if the string slips it's a direct result of bad technique, specifically, not turning my right hand inwards enough to hold the string. When that fear flushes my mind, I know that I must turn my hand to the right degree. So, I do so and my technique is improved by the fear. I have overcome the fear with reasoning and can rest easy with my manipulation of physics in the draw.

Second, it gives us courage.

It's often said that we cannot be brave without fear. I'm not sure if it's exactly that simple, but in this case, that fear does in fact directly give us courage.

After understanding that the string slips out because of mis-applied technique, I should be able to rest easy knowing that the string will not slip out as long as I adhere to the fundamentals. However, that fear still slips into my being. Even though we know that what we fear will not come to pass, we are still afraid. We can overcome this fear with faith: trusting with complete confidence that that string will not pre-release. To take it a step further, we must pull the string with the faith that it will not release even though we don't know for sure if it will release for some reason or not. At that point we must realize that anything can happen and accept that no matter what happens we will be OK. If you're not OK with any potential mistakes, then maybe you shouldn't be doing Kyudo in the first place, or whatever it is you're doing that induces fear.

I've overcome my chronic sting pre-releasing, but still fear it, and so I often go into the draw with the string a few inches in front of my face and then after I have entered the full draw I bring it to touch my cheek, which is definitely not good technique. Instead, I need to make sure my hand is turned sufficiently, and then pull the string back in a straight diagonal line from the daisan to the kai.

Fear can make us smarter and give us courage, but that's only if we're willing to take the time to analyze it and prepare to make our stand against the pain.

Interestingly enough, we could be talking about "failure" and it's the same dark Sensei that threatens our success.

Be brave and smart! That's what budo is trying to teach us.

My Two Halves and the "Shaho Kun"

I live in two halves.

One half does this so the other doesn't have to.

One half does this so the other can do the opposite.

Even if this side dies, the other lives on.

If one side dies, another will grow according to that other existing half.

If both sides disappear, it's over.

...

Because one half isn't doing it, I'm not doing it at all.

But if both halves are spreading equally in opposite directions, there can be one purpose in the center.

So, as a whole, I am fully doing this.

...

In kyudo we stand firm deep into the ground while also stretching our spine like an ivory tower through the clouds. Our hands must be so supple as to handle towels and flowers and babies, must have the intelligence to know exactly where to be, and must be strong enough to hold the position for all else to bloom. Though those hands have extreme similarities in shape: tightly curled pinky fingers, straight extending thumbs, connection between the thumb and middle finger, they have just as many differences: spiraling in different directions from the arms, one perpendicular to the ground while the other is parallel, connected to the back and elbows one hand is pushing will the other is pulling ... or maybe it's all just pushing.

So much of the time in shooting technique is slow calculated movements of not releasing the arrow. Yet, at the very climax and arrow-head purpose of it all, there is that electric snapping release where finally that shooting action is experienced.

Before you shoot, you sit, before that you walk, before that you bow, before that you enter, before that you practice.

All of these opposites, both equal and not. For what? All for the physical purpose of shooting an arrow. All for the spiritual purpose of perfection. All for the plain existence of us with the universe.

I practice kyudo because it is a way of expressing myself that utilizes civilization. I use my conscious mind and will to practice this one thing over and over again which I learn from others who have done the same. It is cultivation in the purest sense. It is the development of human society. But I also don't practice kyudo in case it's all just a false dream. I put everything into kyudo, and then take it all out. Like blood flowing in and out of the limbs in varying degrees. I do this because one is not enough. Maybe I'm lost.

I step too far mentioning and purposes and such. It's funny that we build a practice around a purpose, when really the purpose may be the last thing we understand.

For more credible wisdom I present below the Shaho-Kun, "Principles of Shooting", written by Master Junsei Yoshimi which is contained within the Kyuhon, official Kyudo Manual. I'll talk more in the future about the Kyuhon, but for now, we'll begin with the Shaho-Kun.

"The way is not with the bow, but with the bone, which is of the greatest importance in shooting.

"Placing Spirit (Kokoro) in the centre of the whole body, with two-thirds of the Yunde (left arm) push the string, and with one-third of the Mete (right arm) pull the bow. Spirit settled, this becomes harmonious unity.

"From the centre line of the chest, divide the left and right equally into release.

"It is written, that the collision of iron and stone will release sudden sparks; and thus there is the golden body, shining white, and the half moon positioned in the west."

-Master Junsei Yoshimi

Back to Japan

I'm back!

What a trip.

Beloved family. Friends as close as family. Showing my origins to the girl of my life. Exploring the lakes and forests and mountains and towns of my youth.

Shooting bows and arrows and drinking beer around a campfire with fellow dojo rats. (Maybe a picture or two will show up soon).

After that giant whirlwind of a little less than two weeks, just when I was getting used to it again, I found myself again flying in a gargantuan machine across the sea. Now I'm back in Japan, and it's very strange. I find myself falling back into the unconscious steps I've made hundreds of times before, but my mind is off. A lot of stereotypical complaints about Japan are coming up for the first time in years: so many people, cold interactions, staring at foreigners, students not speaking English in class. But then I guess it was the same when I arrived on American soil for the first time in a year and a half. Giant people in the shape of bugs, carrying Starbucks coffees the size of my carry-on. People standing in the way of everything shouting at each other through phones.

These are all generalizations of course, but with the immediate shift of realities this is what I see.

We find the weirdest times to look on the brightside of things. Now that I'm back, I'm in awe of the beauty of that home where I was raised. It's the most beautiful place I've ever seen. Each dear friend has an individual world and style of their own. People live for a high quality of life. And I have the best family in the world.

But now I'm back in Japan. I feel as though I've changed a great deal, but this place is the same. The day I returned Japan was experiencing record high temperatures, about 105 degrees fahrenheit and super humid. For the past couple days it's cooled down and enormous amounts of rain have poured from the heavens. Now the pavement reeks of birdshit, dropped by the masses of crows.

I'm back, and nothing has changed.

Why is that? I've had this great break and all of the epiphanies, and yet this unchanged world is pulling me, dragging me back down to where I was. I can actually feel myself slipping back into the cracks far below. What the hell? I've changed!

Why? Why is my mind reverting back to the cave?

Things are amiss, and it's time to get hands-on.

But not without relaxing, and giving each moment the mind deserved. That's what I saw at home.

I love stepping back and looking at it all from afar. I love the great patterns and realizations . I like planning and getting motivated to begin. When we escape our patterns we can better evaluate what is important and what's not. This is the real beauty of a vacation. We all really do need vacations.

Looking at myself in Japan, it seems to have lost a lot of color. Going through my life without thinking or passion. Sure I'm thinking, but it's way too much, obsessed. Sure I've been in rage, but that's not passion, just confusion. I've just been putting my body through motions to satsify the Plan.

So being home, I've realized a few things.

The first big realization was that I'm trying to do way too much here.

Two years ago when I decided to stay in Japan, moved to Toyama City and started working for my current job, I decided to do everything I wanted. Since then I've been planning and running and building and amassing.

Now I'm living with a 20 headed monster in my tiny apartment.

I have to remember, this is what I wanted.

I thought that I would build it all up, see what happens, and move.

But I haven't been able to see. I've just been overwhelmed and consumed. Instead of focusing on one at a time, I've been scattered between them all, they have become terrifying and impossible.

Basically, I can't do it all.

I suppose a big part of it is in the mind. By just changing my perspective and not wasting thoughts in unneccessary places, I can save a lot of time. And yet, it's not enough, because I'm doing too much.

Something has to die.

Surveying my activities, I find that a lot of it is really not what I want, or at least, not like this.

I love many things about Toyama Prefecture, mostly the mountains and small towns, but I don't like living in Toyama City. I don't like my apartment. Aikido is fucked because I do it at such a rate it's just a tease. I'm battling through kyudo with scar tissue in my thumb. My Japanese study is slow and numb. I'm tired of my job and want to try something new. I want to write more.

I want to write more. I'm finding good places in my head and a small forest path is opening. I want to go down there as far as I desire.

I want to get better at Japanese. I've been here long enough, I've had the resources, I've reached a certain level, but it's not enough. This is something that won't grow without focused effort. That is another place I want to put my time.

As for martial arts, I believe they are necessary for me, like some food I need to survive. However, it is not the main focus of my life, and never will be. It is necessary, but not dominant. So I will treat it as such. Martial arts are my spiritual food, training my body and concentration, making me happy, allowing me to adventure in the world and introducing me to amazing people. But I believe it will be the Japanese language and writing that will carry me into the future.

This is what I feel right now.

Writing is a honing of the mind, complete freedom, indulgence in the imagination. It is indeed much mightier than the sword, and I feel like I belong with the pen.

So I will make martial arts small, like a whisper, like a wonderful meal. It is my great training, but really just a part of the whole.

Now, I'm carefully stepping through my life, looking at it all, feeling, and then deciding how to move. I will gently unravel this knot I've created, plan for the move to Kyushu that will happen as soon as winter. We'll see how it goes. This is the new plan.

Thank you America, but it's not just that. Thank you home. But more so, thank you people, family, friends and unknowns. Thank you universe, for giving healthy doses of hope and despair in necessary quantities.

Aikido Ikkyu Test: The Change

(not-at-school.blogspot.com )

 

The Change ... but not the one you probably expect.

A great change has occured, one that has been slowly churning, a pace not unlike that by which the continents move. Underground, out of sight, these primal forces have been metamorphosing and recently they have cracked to the surface. The change is one I never expected, and one perhaps I never wished to believe. But it has happened, and I see now it has been long in the making.

I mentioned the last kyudo tournament I went to, and that I didn't do so well though it was a great experience. I also wrote about going to kyudo on my day off and how I felt about that. The posts on this blog have been largely about kyudo, and discussions on aikido have become quite the rarity. My kyudo sensei keeps pounding on me, forging my technique, chiseling away at the frivolous excess. I keep falling down and getting up, each time redifined and more aligned with the target.

This is all not the result of outer success but inner turmoil. When I started kyudo it was just a flimsy trial. As I continued I never really gave it much credit. After receiving the shodan, it could all end and I would be fine. No matter the abstract reflections, my body and spirit have been there everyday toiling in the soil that blooms love. Something of a flower has budded.

(life-engineering.com )

 

Since the great change two years ago causing me to switch jobs and locations, taking aikido training from three to four times a week, to three to four times a month, aikido has been hiding in the dark. On those tired nights I pilgrimmage to the dojo in the east and move, each time like a flicker in the shadows. Clumsily, forgettfully. Each is a great dream I can't seem to hold on to. In the past two years, parts of my aikido have naturally progressed, but it's overshadowed by a great slowing in the internal progress of my sinews.

I took my ikkyu test (one before the shodan [blackbelt]) and passed. I did well in many ways, I think. I did all of the techniques that were asked of me. I did particularly well in the jo and ken work ... parts that I have been able to hone and remember alone in my apartment. I actually felt best about the jiyu waza at the end where partners come at me doing one attack (for me it was katate-ryotedori [partner grabs one of your arms with both of his hands]) and I think something of my overall aikido-budo nature came out. But I could list endless details on small things that could have, should have been better.

After the test I went to talk to the two teachers, the main sensei and then the number two, Ueno-san, for their opinions about my test. First I went to the main sensei.

His words didn't come easily.

"You did it, but something is missing. I know you're busy with work, but honestly you haven't changed much since your nikkyu (last test) test. You're good, but there's something missing. It's in the small mistakes, like when you started so-and-so technique earlier and I told you to fix it like this. You fixed it immediately, and you can correct things quickly, but those necessary details are not internalized yet. Of course it takes time, and you had a good ikkyu test, but ..."

I understand completely what he said, and could have said the same things myself before hearing him. I can do the techniques as I'm asked, I try hard, and I learn fast, but this is not at the core of aikido. What is deep in the bottom is heavily rooted natural technique that adheres to the principles. There is no fast way to do this, it just requires simple time and effort. I don't have the time, so I double the effort, and what comes out has no effect on that deep core of aikido.

I knew this from the start, but I've been trying to trick myself out of it. "Yes, I can do it!" What? Like I don't need time? As if I could just decide for time not to be the core factor? That is magic. That is defying physics and the world. That does in fact play a part in budo sometimes, but equally the most important part of budo is realizing the nature of the world that cannot be changed. This nature cannot be transcended. I cannot fly to the top of the mountain. It requires each step to be made by my own two feet, and it will take as much time as it takes.

This is all completely related to my future move to Kyushu. For various reasons the move has continually been pushed forward since May. Now, it looks like it will happen in November at the very earliest, probably December, possibly later. A huge part of this has kept me crazy about aikido.

Can I get the shodan (black belt ) before I leave?

Can I leave before I get the shodan?

Which will I regret more? Leaving before I finally achieve my number one goal here in Toyama, or staying months more just for the sake of this possession?

A great factor on this decision is what sensei and Ueno-san the dojo think. Until now, the plan was just take the ikkyu test, see how it goes, and then start the discussion.

I thought maybe if my test went phenomenally well, like it could have been the shodan test, I would've been happy, then something could happen and I could do magic and just get the shodan before I leave whenever somehow. But that is not how I felt, in fact it was exactly what I feared, a test I passed according to the qualifications, but not magical acquisition of aikido skill.

I talked with Ueno-san who is a huge reason for my love is the dojo. She is a woman in here forties who has been doing aikido with sensei for about twenty years and is a godan (fifth degree blackbelt). She lives in Toyama City as well so she usually gives me a ride home after training. During the rides we've had countless discussions that have been so important to my growth as an aikido-ka, and more importantly a person on Planet Earth.

We talked about the test and she said it was something to be happy about. Of course it wasn't perfect, but for an ikkyu test is was great. I told her how I felt about coming to practice as infrequently as I do and it's affect on real aikido ability. She quietly agreed, but also silently assured me that that's not so important. What is important is just enjoying the practice. She didn't say this, though she has before, and I know it well.

This is my greatest problem with leaving the dojo before I get my black belt: I love the practice I have with the people in this dojo. I also love aikido. It may be my favorite kind of budo I've ever experienced, but that's due to the people I've been training with. If I were to do aikido with anyone less, I'd do something else.

I do aikido with these people because I love to do so. I'm heartbroken about all of this because I can't train as much as I want.

Why don't I get a job during the day that allows me to go to aikido practice more?

Because there's no job available that I want.

Why don't I just stay in Toyama forever and continue to build myself with this dojo?

Because I want to go somewhere new.

Why do I need to get a shodan in Toyama?

I guess I don't.

The discussion about my departure to Kyushu lasted the whole hour car ride, and could have gone on for much longer.

A big part of the discussion had already been made a couple weeks earlier on the topic of earning rank. Ueno-san lamented on the phenomenon of people training until the shodan and then immediately quitting. All of that work put into the person and their technique to finally reach a level as fun and interesting as shodan, where you can really start developing deeper skill, to just have them leave. This also happens after other various tests. Someone takes a test and then disappears for a while. To teachers I think this must be very frustrating. But to many people it's natural.

It's what I will do in this case.

What could that mean for the big shodan?

It feels cheap. Underneath my skin it's like worms. Only going to practice to achieve the rank. Forgetting the true worth of training with the people you're with in that moment. Sacrificing time and essentially your life for the duration for this goal. Using your sensei just to get rank and then leave forever. Thank you, sayonara.

To ask for such a thing is beyond me. To quietly plot this until the end and then leave is equally impossible.

After all this time and finally bringing up the topic with Ueno-san, I realize it's something real. I consulted with her to hear her opinion because I didn't know. I don't know, so I ask. Isn't that natural?

But actually I did know.

All of this: the test, the practice, the discussions, they really are just one giant mirror for me to look back at myself. I brought up the topic because it's real, and because it's happening. It's not a matter of going or not, because I am. It is a dream that has simmered for so long and finally come to an unstoppable boil.

I cannot wait through another winter to just barely get my shodan in the spring and then leave. I cannot wait because I won't steal the belt like that, and I don't want to waste those months when what I want, what I truly want is departure to a new world.

I love my aikido, but it has grown small and dark. It breaks my heart, but that flower has been withering all the while through this fall. All along it has been such, now I look and see.

Then I turn to the sun, and see my kyudo bloom. It's unstoppable. It's so strong, alive, young, I'm in the spring of my kyudo here.

This is the great change:

(www.elfwood.com )

 

Now I am more kyudo than aikido.

It's funny how both tragedy and happiness can bring us to tears.

 

The conversation I had with Ueno-san was one I didn't want to have, but one I had to. I'm happy now though in my understanding. Yet I still have one very difficult conversation to have, and that's with the head honcho himself, Sensei. He is an honest man, which comes off harsh sometimes, but that honesty also provides kindness and love abound. The experiences I've had with him sweating and being thrown over the past few years is a giant well of friendship. This isn't a conversation I can just have for a few minutes after practice, so I'm going to call him and see if I can meet with him for a couple hours to talk.

He's a buddhist priest which gives him free time in the mornings of strange days during the week, just like me. Hopefully I'll meet with him next week and have this giant nasty ball of a talk before I go home.

I asked for all of this. It's really what I wanted. I just didn't realize it.

Change.

 



 (woodgatesview.com )

Frustration and Healing with Kyudo

(The first half of this is from a piece posted a few hours before, apologies for the reposting of info if you've already read this, but the second half is all new. Picture found at www.guardian.co.uk  )

Today is my day off and I'm going to practice kyudo.

This is a simple statement, but could be interpreted many different ways.

Is this a good thing? A bad thing? Something to be excited about? Something to dread? Does it ruin my day off? Is it a sign of my progress in kyudo?

This analytical way of thinking is further developed by kyudo.

Or maybe kyudo has made me completely paranoid and I have absolutley no idea how or why anything happens at all in the world.

Or maybe I've just been like this the whole time.

Generally, I've been in a slump for a little over a month in kyudo. Things rarely feel like they're right. I went to a tournament this last weekend and as far as hitting the target I didn't do very well. But it was a good experience ...

Man this stuff is really hard to describe.

So you have a kyudo even that last all day long, a lot of which is not shooting, which leaves a lot of time for thinking. There's everything that has happened before that event. There are all of the things that happen during the tournament, and enough time to think about each of them ten times over. Then there is reflection and thinking about all there is to come. On that day of the tournament my mind went everywhere, super highs and lows.

The only common denominator is that I keep getting knocked down and keep getting back up.

You shoot four arrows, wait a long time, and then shoot four more. In my first four I missed the first one too far to the left, next too far to the right, next too high ... then finally I hit the last one.

YOSH! I got it! I'm going to hit the next ones cause I finally got it! This is my time!

So I went and sat down waiting about an hour to the next round, propelled by my conviction of positive energy. When the time came I stood up and shot the first one, missed, then the next, and the next. On my last arrow of the day I fought against the giant wave of a thought to just give up and say, "Fuck it, I'm going to shoot this and then have to wait for a super long time until I can go home and nothing really matters anyway." So I stood up there and did the best I could, and the arrow stuck in the rim of the target, which doesn't count as a hit. Goddamn, if it was half a centimeter closer it would have counted. If it was a half of a centimeter further, I wouldn't think of this at all.

It's not just about hitting the target, and so I'm OK with not hitting the target now mostly.

A lot of it is about form. If you have good form and miss the target, that's not a bad place to be. So I've been working a lot on my form, especially on my tenouchi (left hand that holds the bow) ...

(Writing stopped to catch a train ... two days passed)

The details don't matter.

As my energy rose higher and higher and devotion gets sharper, my hand hurts, and things have gone too far. I want so badly to practice kyudo and improve, but not at the cost of my health. I don't need kyudo.

I guess there's a lot of different kinds of getting knocked down and having to get back up.

There's the kind where you just get knocked down and you immediately get up and continue.

There's the kind where you get knocked down and just can't get right back because of something in the way such as other obligations.

Then there's the kind where you can get back up and continue right away, but you choose not to for the greater good ... in this case it's me with this injury.

I hate to ramble just like I hate to fervently pursue physical things I don't need.

So I'll stop.

(15 minutes to hang laundry ... relax ...)

OK, well I'm not quite done yet.

We want to get good at things. This comes in many different forms.

We want to be happy immediately, so devise plans of how to achieve this that often involve spending money, ingesting drugs, or making rash decisions that involve other people oftentimes without their consent. The why's and how's of it all aren't thought about all that well, so debt, drug addiction, and ruined personal relationships occur, or maybe we just never find that happiness as quickly as we want.

It's much less frequent for people to say, "Hey, I'm going to work little by little on this happiness thing and eventually it will grow into a complete reality." Or maybe we do this, but then get frustrated with the lack of immediate results.

But that feeling is legitimate right? Just stowing everything for a later time with nothing to enjoy now is just as pointless as putting all of our faith into now without thinking of the later.

This isn't a self-help blog, and I certainly don't have the credibility to talk about achieving long-term happiness, but this issue is very relevant to practicing budo.

We want skills in budo. We want it now with a very strong desire and it's often fueled by a large amount of physical energy.

This is a good thing, and one should be able to realize this effort to their heart's content.

It's good to want, and to strive for physical purposes. To deny this is to distort ourselves. There's no need to starve when there's plenty of food in the pantry. There's a lot of people who seem to like doing that though. Actually I have a tendency towards this kind of masochistic abstention ... but after enough experience, it's a weed I'm trying to uproot, not allow to fester.

If we have a desire to learn and practice and improve, we should do so until we are content. That is the freedom we are born with, and I believe we have a right to follow that as far as we like.

But it's not usually all that simple.

First of all, too much training can lead to physical injury ... which is the most simple and easy to understand the effect of doing too much. But actually, this isn't so easy to understand in martial arts. Most martial arts are about training to change the body to better handle different circumstances or achieve certain results. Sometimes this involves training to the point of developing large callouses on fists from punching, or over-stretched muscles and tendons in the legs. Sometimes this kind of training leads to pain or the inability to use in later years. There are plenty of teachers out there deformed by their own training who will tell you they have no regrets with giant smiles on their faces.

Actually that's why I quit playing rugby in college. I remember after I broke my collarbone in a game, I went to a "social" (after match drinking party) where I talked to a dude who was forty but looked seventy. Cauliflower ears, crooked nose, bumps and limps all over his body, he took a double shot of whisky and said he "Wouldn't take it back for nothin'!"  I left and told myself I'd rather not be like that.

This is just as prevalent in the martial arts. I don't want to train so that my body is a giant wounded callous.

But how far do you take such kinds of injuries?

To get specific, the current injury that's keeping me from going to the kyudo dojo today is (what I think is) a callous at the base of my thumb. After a three-week hiatus I came back and did a lot of kyudo in a very short amount of time, initially just tearing the skin. I bandaged it up and trained through it, and under and around the wound a callous started to thicken. I trained through it and it wasn't just hardened skin but something underneath (tendons? muscles?) would swell up after practice, and hurt to touch. I iced it regularly and put a few days between each training.

When I stopped it seemed to improve. When I practiced it seemed to hurt.

(DUH!)

I've maintained this kind of stop and go for over a month. The outside wound has actually almost finally healed, which seems to me to be a surprise, but it's swollen nature seems to be settling ... but not in a good way. It's not something I'd want to be there forever ... plus it hurts when I do too much. It's not a sharp pain that makes one immediately say, "Hold on, this really hurts, I shouldn't continue." but rather the slow dull kind you can push through, but seems to slowly get worse. I'll start off being alright, but after an hour or two, my hand can't push against the bow anymore.

Two weeks ago I was worried about it and went to the doctor to get it checked out. I spent two hours in various waiting rooms, filling out different pieces of paper at different stages, getting an x-ray, and then finally my two minutes to talk to a doctor. My biggest concern was that I had a small fracture, and the x-ray along with the doctor confirmed there was nothing wrong with my bones.

Great.

I walked out the door and about two minutes later thought:

"Then what the hell is going on in my hand!?"

The doctor didn't seem concerned with that, and I guess was simply there to answer my question. Thanks.

Anyway, I've mentioned I've been in a bit of a slump in kyudo since I've had this injury, and while there are many things to conclude, a simple one would be that something is wrong with my technique because there is something wrong with my hand. I'm going home for two weeks which will invevitably take me out of kyudo for two weeks, and I've been looking forward to this time for my hand to heal.

So I had this tournament, my hand has hurt, and I've been looking forward to the break. As it happens, high school students are on summer vacation and go to the dojo everyday during the time I usually go until September.

I've finally been given a break, but instead, as if to somehow malicously counter this postive turn in fortune, I've been trying to go as much as possible either super early in the morning, or dangerously close to my work hours.

What is that!?

I imagined discussing the ideas of over-training a little more, but perhaps this story can suffice.

Our mind does one thing, and our body another. How and where do we put desire and effort?

I don't know ... but I do know that if I rest my hand, it will heal, and my kyudo will improve.

Thank you all for listening and letting me flush that out.

...

So yeah ... we all want immediate success. In budo, this often means going the first day in pajamas with dreams of being the greatest in the world, and the next day expecting results.

We start off as tiny little sprouts and expect to become giant sequoias in the frame of a few months, or years, or decades even.

Maybe we're already almost full grown, but expect to change it all and become something completely different.

Just look at the trees and ask yourself: "Is there anyway this could have happened in a day?"

Look at the mountains.

In Toyama they're undergoing huge renovations in the train station for the shinkansen (bullet train) tracks. The construction is absolutley massive, and has taken, and will take years more. The progress seems slow, but one day that shinkansen will run.

But I am not like that.

Even slower, the organic threads weave in ways we cannot see.

Look at the trees, look at the mountains, look at yourself.

We are the same.

But then we are completely different.

I don't know!

Illusions

 

 

 

Not a warrior.

Not a scholar.

Not a poet.

Just a boy in the woods.

Growing, decaying, looking for something to climb.

What is Budo? Part I: Definitions

What is budo? I use this term more than any other in my blog and have never taken the time to explain it. One day I just threw it out there and expected everyone to immediately realize what a perfect fit it was. Funny thing is, I practiced martial arts for over five years before I really knew what it was. I don't mean that I "knew" what the meaning was and just didn't "understand" it. I literally mean that if someone said, "Hey, Zac. What do you think about budo?" I'd say, "Eh? What's that?" A few years later, this word defines much of my life and I could spend hours, pages, blogs, years, talking about the subject, perhaps because of it's ambiguity.

You see, budo isn't so easy to define. If it was a concept with one clear definition, we could just say what it is, all agree, and move on to the next puzzle. For example, I think "martial arts" is pretty easy to define:

Practices related to potentially violent circumstances that could be described as art.

Ha! What do you think of that? I'm guessing the martial artists who just read that are not perfectly content with that definition. Obviously it is my own, made on the spot, in about 30 seconds. I hesitated at a couple parts, but I'm not going to get fussy about it because it's not all that important. The term "martial arts" covers such a vast array of activities, thoughts, and beliefs, I don't think it can be defined much better than I just wrote. Like "not enough butter spread over too-much toast" (thank you Bilbo Baggins), the topic is just too broad for a single happy definition, so to me, such an endeavor feels like a waste of time.

Instead, I think we can have a more interesting conversation with the term, budo. It's just specific enough we can start laying concrete blocks without smashing too many flowers, and yet nebulous enough to never really be able to find a finishing point. In a way, it is a sub-genre of martial arts, but deep and wide enough to blow the term, martial arts, out of existence.

So we're probably not going to mention "martial arts" again in this discussion. There is another term however, which acts as a great foil and base for comparison with budo: bujutsu.

I'm here to embellish in interesting feelings and stories about budo, not give definitions, so for all of you who have been reading this waiting for some substantial facts, or at least clearer explanations than I am used to delivering, I'm going to cite the main beef of Wikipedia's entry for budo, which also explains this newly introduced term of bujutsu:

"Budō is a compound of the root bu (武:ぶ), meaning war or martial; and dō (道:どう), meaning path or way. Specifically, dō is derived from the Buddhist Sanskrit mārga (meaning "path").^[4] The term refers to the idea of formulating propositions, subjecting them to philosophical critique and then following a 'path' to realize them.^[5] Dō signifies a "way of life". Dō in the Japanese context, is an experiential term, experiential in the sense that practice (the way of life) is the norm to verify the validity of the discipline cultivated through a given art form. The modern budō has no external enemy, only the internal enemy, one's ego that must be fought^[6] (state of Muga-mushin). Similarly to budō, bujutsu is a compound of the roots bu (武), and jutsu (術:じゅつ), meaning technique^[7] Thus, budō is translated as "martial way",^[8][9][10] or "the way of war"^{[citation needed]} while bujutsu is translated as "science of war" or "martial craft." However, both budō and bujutsu are used interchangeably in English with the term "martial arts".^{[citation needed]} Budo and bujutsu have quite a delicate difference; whereas bujutsu only gives attention to the physical part of fighting (how to best defeat an enemy), budo also gives attention to the mind and how one should develop oneself. Modern budo uses aspects of the lifestyle of the samurai of feudal Japan and translates them to self-development in modern life."

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bud%C5%8D)

OK?

I think that's a pretty good starting point.

-Budo has it's roots in warfare.
-Budo is different from bujutsu.
-Do = way. Jutsu = technique

What necessary givens were forgotten in the entry?

-Budo comes from the Japanese language (duh)
-Budo is understood five billion times better in the context of Japan

I wanted to say something about Japanese culture, but when I say that, my mind is flushed with images of temples, tea, monks, and swords and stuff ... and that's not what I mean.

Modern day budo is understood best in modern day life ... in Japan.

Well ... mmmmm ...

Modern day budo should be understood in the context of it's root in traditional Japanese culture, and one doesn't have to be in Japan to understand it ... BUT ... in my expereience I'll say again,

Modern day budo is understood best in modern day life ... in Japan.

So I guess that will be my tint on the discussion. This is a conversation to visit here and there in pieces, not to be just stripped down all in one go, so I'll leave it at that. Please check again later, for the continuation of "What is Budo?".

My Martial Art: The Amalgamation

This is something I've been working on for a very long time.

It's been something like ... forever.

I'm serious! What is "my martial art", is something I've been practicing as long as I've been formally practicing martial arts. It's been something I've been working on as long as I've been using my body and mind. It existed in the seed of my body and mind from my mother and my father since before I was born; that seed which can be traced back all through my ancestors ... Irishmen, mainlanders, cavemen, monkeys, fish, single celled organisms, stardust, and beyond!

If my budo is something I've been working on infinitely into the past, then I've also been working on it in the future. The entirety of existence has been the "when" and "where" of my honing of my martial art. Not before, or after, but the actual, it of budo.

Congratulations! I've made it, and I've always been here!

Enough of the very serious jokes. I do have a more concrete point I want to address here in this post, and it has to do with being a person who has formally practiced different martial arts over a period of 10 years. I really don't like using time as measured by years when talking about martial arts. It always turns into a game of comparing numbers. It is a silly game that doesn't necessarily lead to clarification. Actually, in the absence of a holistic explanation of the situation, numbers of years just make things more confusing. But, I will put my ten years here because ... it is a time within which I have been able to go through many phases of training. Years earlier, I wouldn't be so good at ignoring glaring details and I wouldn't be able to see the commonalities. It's given me time to see other martial arts that have broadened my experience. This is one of the first times I've been able to see such a thick and fuzzy singular current through it all. Ask me again in ten years, and I'm sure I'll be able to tell you infinitely more.

As for the different martial arts I've practiced and how they contribute to my martial art, I think the clearest way to discuss the specifics is through a list of each martial art experienced in chronological order. I haven't put equal time into each martial art, and I haven't even included all I consider "having practiced." To name two, boxing and hsing i have helped me out a lot, but they just don't quite compare to the others in the list. There are many overlapping points between the arts, but I will try and mention each specific point in the category of the martial art which reveals its quality most clearest to me.

Hawaiian Kenpo:
-Use what works.
-Use what is most convenient.
-Use what is fastest to accomplishing your goal.
-Using your environment to your advantage.
-Not fighting as an option to solving issues.
-Doing anything possible to win.
-Being in physically good shape.

Tai Chi Chuan:
-Whole body utilization for individual techniques.
-Rooting.
-Blending with a partner.
-Using a partner's strength to your advantage.
-Learning from oneself.

Ba Gua Zhang:
-Limberness of body and control of movement (balance, etc).
-Practicing various forms to learn one thing.

Aikido:
-Positioning.
-No "fighting stance".
-Timing.
-Only expending necessary energy.
-Controlling an opponent/setting them off-balance.
-Relaxing throughout movement.
-Finding positions to be strong in, and others to give way.
-The need for good training partners.

Kyudo:
-Seeing everything.
-Maximum effort/focus towards a specific goal.
-Everything is "the point".
-Prioritizing attention to various matters in a movement.
-Appropriate patience.
-The need for a good teacher.

The listing above is meant to dissect my martial art with specifics concerning experiences in activities that are generally called "martial arts." But, all of the specifics I mentioned above are existent in all of the martial arts listed above. I utilize them all, all the time, but each practice allows me to notice them a little better. I don't need to practice these martial arts to have these abilities, I don't have to be aware of the abilities for them to exist. However, being aware of them, and practicing these different arts allows me to improve my technique. Why is this important if I've already forever practiced infinitely into the future and already mastered them, thus being perfect the way I am as is right now? Because that infinity is the honing process of martial arts. That that completion of all goals in the future is another version of this eternally perfect/imperfect honing.

So we have me: the body. "My martial art": the skeleton. The different martial arts I have practiced: the organs. But there are still a couple ingredients missing to bring this beast live.

First, there are my veins and arteries: the things that I do to connect all that exists within me. These are the things that make the art real. Some of these things are:

Health
-Healthy diet.
-Sufficient rest.

Stretching
-Making my body limber so that it can perform at it's greatest potential.

Meditating
-Specifically, standing. This is to clean the mind of unnecessaries, shake up and settle my body at the same time, and strengthen my tendons. Actually, trying to list this process takes many many more posts. I believe this is arguably, the single most important part of my martial art.

Learning
-Getting new material and inspiration to supplement the regular training, be it reading, videos, or seminars. Martial food for the artistic mind.

Then comes the last piece. The blood. The breath. The movement of it all:

Practice.

Without this single aspect ... the "honing" process, which is the defining characteristic of existence, changes dramatically. It slackens. It becomes wasteful. It becomes weak and distracted. Practice is the sword to our warrior. The path and the intention. If there is something to do with our conscious effort in life, it is for a honing which is benefitted by practice.

...

But then again, my martial art is as ancient as anything else, and there is no such thing as practice.

...

So there you have it, my martial art. I look forward to taking a look again at this later to further see it's defining characteristics. I wonder if there is anything I've forgotten. I wonder what kind of qualities that are usually regarded highly in other martial arts are not included in mine. What does your martial art look like? I urge you to investigate, because you do have one, and it's probably pretty cool.

the "Art" in "Martial Arts": Part One of Many

 

I think in images. They are followed by feelings. This is largely how I make decisions in my life.

As a young boy, I was a drawer. Of all the childhood activities that were scattered through my time, it was putting a pencil to blank white paper where I practiced with the most enthusiasm. I remember it well: the complete freedom of a blank page, that one simple instrument. I didn't erase much. If I did, the previous line would be replaced by a better one, and I would move on. I would draw a picture for maybe thirty minutes to an hour, then put it somewhere never to be seen or thought of again.

 

I don't draw anymore. Since then I've attempted several returns to that age, but they just don't work. So, I don't try it often. The great change came with puberty. A maturation of muscles and development of desire in a social world ushered in an age of physical activity: namely organized sports and skateboarding. A creature of activity, satiated only by physical motion. But not just physical motion itself, physical motion with a goal. I'll get back to that in a second.

I am still like that, I think. My life is largely determined by physical motion. The difference is that it started in organized team sports and has evolved into practicing Japanese martial arts; namely aikido and kyudo. (One interesting constant though has been board sports, skateboarding when I was in middle and high school, and snowboarding now in Japan). I said "Japanese martial arts", because it's a very specific practice within the umbrella of "martial arts" as a whole: its differences greatly affect my experience of martial arts. One of the most intelligible differences can be found in the suffix "dou" (karate-do, aiki-do, kyu-do, etc). But that is a topic worthy of another post to come. What is relevant to this discussion is the image of Japanese martial arts, and the feelings produced from those images and its practice. I express my tendency to images by being interested in the image of Japanese martial arts, and by most of all being the image by participating. By participating in the art, I am using my physical body in motion, and the combination of my imagination working with the images and my body with the physical world, a certain feeling arises and exists. Kind of like the kokyu that arises from correct form in aikido, or a clean hanare (release) built from proper form in kyudo. Everything together is the picture of art that I make, each segment playing its respective part, yet totally inseperable from each other as the whole. This is my art. I practice for a couple hours at a time, consciously making corrections by the guidance of my peers, and forget the experience after I'm finished.

 

So there's my current practice of martial arts which I consider to be a legitimate medium of creativity. There's the little boy who used to love drawing pictures. There's sitting zazen. These are like islands of definite something rising above nebulous mists. I don't often try to draw anymore because I just don't know what to do. I sit there for an extended period of time, draw a few lines I'm disgusted with, erase, try again, and give up. I have such a strong desire to "create", but it doesn't come through. When I was a boy, I had a strong image my hand just seemed to create with purpose. Now all of those pieces are hopelessely disparate. I like writing. Actually I love writing on this blog. I always carry a pen and paper with my and on average scribble about 2 to 10 pages a day of varying levels of nonsense. Sometimes I write uncontrollably. Sometimes only a few words a day. This tendency is very important, but its focus also belongs in another post. What's important is that sometimes I want to write something poetic. Then ... blank whiteness. I'll have some kind of image, and the intense desire to create something of worth in writing, but all else is lost. I'm sure other writers must find this strange desert in the imagination as well. On the contrary, writing on this blog is where I feel best, and within all of my range of blogs, it is the ones of very specific detail that I am most fond of. Usually either communicating specific realizations found from training sessions in aikido or long stories of bike rides in the mountains. (Funny thing is that I haven't done that much in the last year) What is the difference between my desire to write poetry and the documentation of my blog?

Purpose.

My personal expression of art needs this kind of purpose. If any of my writing could be called art, or skilled in a kind of art, that is other than just relaying facts, it is not of conscious design but merely an effect of the overall mission to write. If there is beauty or art in my movement of martial arts, it is not for that purpose, but merely an effect of that specific technique. This truth is not built by thought, but an effect from my life. This is very important, and it finds its way snaking deep down in the depths towards some kind of core from which the roots of other arts blossom.

 

The other day I visited an ikebana (the art of flower arranging) exhibition and was absolutley blown away. First of all it was just beauiful; and there were so many different kinds. This is a kind of art that is designed for beauty. It's different from my arts. But it is all art. I don't know ...

I don't really know what it is like to create art for the sake of beauty; I wonder how much I can relate to painters or practitioners of ikebana. I think of music as well, an art designed for creating sounds. That is very different as well. That is very interesting to me. That is all.

The "art" in martial "arts"; it's real.

Winter Tour and Buddhist Thoughts

Before I begin my unusual ramblings about eastern religions and martial arts, I will give you a small virtual tour of Gaijin's home office on this fine snowy Saturday morning.


Here's where the great cycle ends and starts everyday; from my lowly futon laid upon tatami mats, covered with an electric blanket of course. I can't wait for someone to invent the "cool-down-anti-midnight-sweat" blanket for the equally harsh Japanese summers.

Gah! Looks like other than an adventurous walk to the super market, Gaijin is going to be spending this day happily indoors. That adventurous walk to the super market by the way, is nothing compared to the shopping that goes on inside. I didn't realize it until this morning, but apparently around 11 am on Saturday mornings in the countryside of Japan is when ALL of the obaachan (elderly Japanese women) decide to go shopping. Personally going to the super market is one of my least favorite things I do in life, so it's where I really try to put my discipline and patience practice to work. But this morning among the throngs of obaachan, it's almost impossible; but for very opposite reasons than many of you would probably expect. This is not a lethargic slow moving crowd, but the most vicious grocery shoppers you have ever seen! I was surrounded on all sides like a frenzy of sharks, and if I was going to get any food today, I was going to have to set my fins back and show some teeth.

Ah, my best friends. The flowers on the left are the newest members.

Here it is: Gaijin's home office! Everything I need and nothing more. This is my metaphorical bonsai tree that trimming and cultivating to my image of perfection.

And what would Gaijin's headquarters be without maps. Before adventures, I stand here staring at these posters on the walls with a cup of coffee in hand, planning the next mission into the unknown. On the right of course we have a map of Japan. My home prefecture of Toyama is located in the middle and on the left on the Sea of Japan side. A pretty ideal central location in my opinion, except that I am pretty well cut off from everything else by huge walls of the tallest mountains in Japan, can't complain though. On the left is a map of Toyama Prefecture which is very useful in my summer time bike trips. But actually my most important map is taking a rest for the winter. It is a topographical map of the Northern Japanese Alps, which is basically Toyama, southwest Niigata, and northern Nagano and Gifu. For big hiking trips and summertime biking adventures, it is absolutley invaluable.

And this is where I go when I put things in my mouth when I get a funny feeling in my stomach. I do pretty well with tea, beer, and wine, but still don't quite know how to make that food stuff taste good.

Well, there you have it. For the relatively small amount of space this apartment has to western counterparts, it's a palace to me. Another one of the saddest things I'll have to say goodbye to when I leave Japan. This is one aspect of life here I really lucked out on.

Here I will give a brief introduction to my latest focus of study in eastern philosophy, "Buddhist Scriptures" of the Penguin Classics collection. I am very excited about this one, and am going to do my best to not rush through it. It's funny, I'm not sure if this is the best book I've ever read about Buddhism, but it's effecting me more than any other already. So far, I've read the lengthy introduction, "the Five Realms of Existence" perhaps written in Cambodia in the fourteenth century, and "Arouse Your Mind and Practise!" written by the Korean monk Wonhyo in the seventh century. I've been interested in eastern esoterica since I was a child, and started reading seriously after an Ethics class I had in college. Since then, I've studied eastern philosophy mostly through martial arts, but recently, have been focusing specifically on Buddhism in the books I've read lately (which you know all too well if you've kept up with my blog lately). My experience has been different from other modes of study where one often progresses linearly forward along a path, and rather like diving into an ocean, deeper and deeper with each chapter. The more I read about Buddhism, the slower I read and the more substance I soak up. This is less than simply the volume of material I've read about Buddhism, but more about my experience in martial arts, experiments in meditation, and constant application to daily life. This is why people will often say the "experience" of Buddhism instead "study". Now, I find it hard to read more than five pages of this book without missing some drastically significant idea I must internalize before moving on. Below is a short blip I found interesting. It doesn't belong to one of the old texts, but note from the editor.

"It is a common tenet of Buddhist traditions that human life, or more specifically rebirth as a human born with access to the dharma, is very precious; something difficult to find and, if found, of great meaning. In a famous passage, the Buddha described a single blind tortoise swimming in a vast ocean, surfacing for air only once ever century. On the surface of the ocean floats a single golden yoke. It is rarer, said the Buddha, to be reborn as a human with the opportunity to practice the dharma than it is for the tortoise to surface for its centennial breath with its head through the hole in the golden yoke. ... Thus, that one inhales after exhaling and awakens healthy from sleep is fantastic."

One can draw many interesting thoughts from this paragraph, but one thing it made me think about is having a rare chance to practice quality martial arts. So much needs to be said about the groundings of honest effort and personal internalization when practicing martial arts, but one could spend their whole lives practicing without developing true martial ability. There really is only so much we can do on our own, and in order to best overcome our limitations and find new ground, a quality teacher is needed. Buddhists will often say that we should cultivate ourself by intelligent means. A disciplined and honest practice is necessary, but without this crucial ingredient of intelligent means, progress can be painfully slow. I like to think of myself as that tortoise in the ocean who has found a golden yolk with all of the wonderful teachers I've had. Without them, who knows what weird s&^t I'd have convinced myself to do to practice martial arts. I'd probably be in a back yard with a towel around my head chopping through the air: "HIYAHHHHH!" Instead, I get to do a more highly refined and widely accepted version which may be able to help me in a real physical situation ... because of the help I've had along the way by my teachers.

That rambled differently than I expected. Perhaps it's just important to read what the expert wrote about Buddhism above, think about what that means to you, and then try and think of something else.

Jaa ne.

The Freedom of Capoeira

About one month ago, I was required to go to a two-day Mid-Year Seminar for my job as an English teacher where I along with the other ALTs (assistant language teacher, aka, English speaking dancing monkey) presented and watched various speeches and classes on teaching English in Japan. There were many informative and interesting bits, as well as boring and awkward ones, but perhaps the most interesting part of the whole seminar was an hour class that was given about capoeira, a Brazilian martial art. This hour class was in a list of other "fun" seminars at the end we got to choose from, and I jumped on this one immediately.

The class was taught by a man in his early thirties from Hawaii, who had lived in Brazil where he practiced capoeira. Somewhere along the way, he fell in love with a Japanese girl, and now lives here in Toyama where he has a kindergarten, and teaches capoeira classes. Because this was only an hour class to introduce capoeira to a bunch of English teaching gaijin and get them moving, we could do little more than just that, but it was very refreshing. I've never formally practiced capoeira, but in my hometown there are a few guys who like to play around with it, and I ended up joining them from time to time, so I had a leg up on most of the other people in the class because I had already been introduced to it.

Capoeira generally consists of a group of people that make a circle and clap to music while two capoeristas "spar" in the middle of the circle. The players move to the music for the most part, and base their movements off the ginga (back and forth movement characteristic to capoeira). Depending on what capoeira circle you're in (pun intended), there can be an emphasis on the dance aspect of the art or on the martial art side of things; or I guess ideally where both are given their appropriate emphasis. Our instructor described all of the movements in the guise of martial technique (you move here or are in this position because you want to attack/evade effectively, etc), but was sure to present capoeira as a fun game to enjoy. It sounded like a healthy balance to me. (If this article is your first experience with capoeira, I highly recommend you look up some information on the web and search some videos on youtube. If you have heard of this beautiful and strange art before, I highly recommend you look up some information on the web and search some videos on youtube.)

If I were to put my impression of this experience into one word, it would be: "refreshing."

The older I get, the more I realize how important physical movement is to my life. As a child, my favorite thing to do was run around in the woods. As a middle school and high school student, sports were arguably the single most important thing in my life. And ever since I first walked in a dojo at 17, my life has been arguably best enjoyed while practicing martial arts. In this latter more recent stage of martial arts, I've noticed that I've developed some very restrictive ideas concerning body movement. Emphasis is always made to further refine movement to be "most effective" (whatever that means exactly). In every movement, the finest of details concerning weight placement and angles and directions are investigated and adjusted to some "most effective" state, but in doing so, one can start designating all movements into "good" and "bad" categories. (I'm now remembering a huge epiphany I had when first practicing Hawaiian kenpo when my Sensei said that it wasn't a matter of "good and bad", but "good and better.") This session in capoeira greatly helped me to curb my movement-nazi tendencies, and just move. (This is pretty interesting considering my last post on where exactly the knee needs to always be in martial arts.)

In fact, this was a concept that the capoeira instructor used to describe the movements to us. He said that while practicing capoeira with a partner, the most important thing to do when an attack comes your way, is to get out of the way. That's it, it's easy! Just get out of the way. Amidst the ginga movement, if an opponent sends a kick your way, all you really have to do is step back; that's it! But as you can probably tell, that can be a bit boring. So if a partner sends a kick your way, instead of stepping back, you can crouch down, move to the side, or spin out of the way allowing you to counter-attack while your partner is exposed. THAT seems to be good capoeira. After hearing him explain this, and then show us some physical examples of how it worked, it flashed in front of me how capoeira really can be a legitimate fighting art, and one that contains a lot of the same characteristics as Hawaiian kenpo, and especially tai chi chuan, and aikido.

Does that sound strange? It did to me at that first moment of realization. After having a tiny amount of experience in capoeira maybe 7 years ago and practicing these various highly acclaimed far eastern martial arts, I found myself with a lot of judgements and reservations about capoeira that weren't necessarily true. Beware all of you practicing martial artists with your calculating investigative minds! We are ideally searching for some objective truth, not self-constructed delusion.

One remarkable characterstic I found to be similar between capoeira and these other martial arts I have practiced is the tendency to avoid meeting contact with contact. I think the benefits of this theory become especially obvious in capoeira because a lot of the attacks are momentum powered wide arching kicks; one of the most painful attacks to receive directly! To have one of these catch you on the side of the head would surely knock you out and send you to the ground at least! There are also many sweeps that would easily send you head over heels if they were not avoided. With a constant barrage of these kinds of attacks encountered in the capoeira ring, you would have to by necessity learn to avoid power, and like the instructor said, "get out of the way". One great parallel with this kind of competition is push hands practiced in tai chi chuan. One learns quickly it is a bad idea to try and fight back against a skilled push, and rather begins flowing with the push and directing it elsewhere, or becoming empty so the push really ends up pushing nothing. However, it would be hard to find a more different practice to capoeira than push hands, because push hands is often practiced with a fixed-step rule where stepping movement becomes incredibly limited, and you are mostly dealing with hand and arm attacks as opposed to mostly leg attacks in capoeira. While one practices honing one's physical movement to be as small and effective as possible in push hands, I feel it can turn you into a movement-nazi chaining you to the ground. Furthermore, I can't help but think of so many well-experienced martial artists who have practiced for a great many years, that would maybe have a really hard time just moving in the basic ginga movement.

Perhaps aikido works as a bridge between movement-inhibitied tai chi chuan and movement-excessive capoeira. In aikido we practice flowing with an opponent to avoid force on force interactions, but do so often with wide arching movements of the body. I often find myself in aikido asking questions pertaining to the exact angle or direction of a move, and receiving an ambiguous answer that decreases it's importance. Even in ukemi (rolling out of throws delivered by a partner), we are given specific directions on how to do so initially, but after a while, each of our bodies will automatically find their own ways to balance out all of the small unattended-to details performed by the joints and muscles (and mind?). Perhaps a lot of movement in aikido is "just getting out of the way". Also, there is a tendency in tai chi chuan to practice things very slowly and carefully, but in aikido, we move at the actual speed things would be executed the majority of the time. The same can be said in capoeira I think. Therefore, training sessions in aikido are vigorous and constant, which satisfies a lot of my personal preferences in the martial arts. This session I had in capoeira at the Mid Year Seminar took this freedom of movement a huge step further, and was refreshed to just move instead of critically examine everything so much.

Perhaps capoeira is more "natural" than aikido or tai chi chuan! I have grown so annoyed at the contradiction of practicing all of these movements that are supposed to be "natural", but having to spend so much time disciplining myself to remember them and program them into myself. In capoeira, it seems a lot of the smaller details of movement naturally fall into place as you are avoiding and delivering your attacks amidst the movement of ginga.

The capoeria seminar was delivered as simple and easy as well as difficult and complex. Anyone can play capoeira, but only those who practice constantly with strength will be any good. The session was accompanied by kids (the teacher's kindergarten students he brought to help), the music characteristic of capoeira, and with a lot of smiles and laughter. Right now I am putting all of my conscious effort into aikido, but I hope one day to be reacquainted with other arts such as capoeira, because it will help my study of budo, but even more importantly, make me happy.

To finish the class, the instructor ended with some capoeira philosophy that may be able to help us through the tribulations of real life: When met with adverisity, we can ginga out of anything. No matter what happens in life, we have the freedom to move as we like, be it getting out of the way by stepping back, or maybe utilizing some more tactful way.