Nature is a language, Can't you read?

I am not in a martial arts funk. However, my practice of meditation and energy work have both been greatly altered over the past few months.

For the most part, with me, the meditative/reflective aspects of my training have been a routine--almost necessary--part of my martial equilibrium. But now, after a few months, I have found my discipline has eroded in this regard. It seems like I am just being lax until I delve deeper into the reason why this is so.

The reason is Nature.

I have found myself spending much more time than usual in the natural world, with my family, far away from concrete and traffic, and in the company of trees, lakes, and just pure quietude. This, I figure, has been my meditation and reflection time, and to learn the principles of energy one need look no further than a wooded area with small birds and squirrels. (Corniness doesn't mean it lacks truth).

In my area, the lotus, so sacred in terms of vedic/buddhist tradition, appears this time of year in the form of a white water lily--amid lily pads and leopard frogs--and opens its pedals to the sun in a like manner. Chestnuts fall to the ground, with a Newtonian thud, and one's place in the world seems a little clearer.

I have often thought about the dojos of old Japan, nested away on a mountainside. Outlook is influenced by environment, and therefore abilities in turn. Do concrete jungles have advantages also, fine tuning our senses to a more realistic setting for self-defense? Should we take training retreats--to our opposite living situations--as a form of cross-training?

Anyway, I feel better to have realized my meditation has not become lost. Rather, it has just changed its form for the time being.

warriors...

In 1974, at the age of 24, photographer Kenji Kawano traveled from Japan to the Navajo Reserve in Arizona. He spoke no English, but decided to hitch from community to community taking pictures as he went.

"At first, I thought I wanted to photograph everyday life of the Navajo for awhile, go back to Japan, and have a photography exhibit in Tokyo," he says.

But instead, he remained in the U.S.

"...(I) always felt sympathetic toward the American Indian..." says Kawano. "When I came to the States, I didn't know if American Indians existed."

Kawano is known for a book he did with images of Navajo Code Talkers from the Second World War. Along with this book, Warriors, he has also done books on Navajo woman and the cultural traditions of the people.

In 1980 he became the Navajo Nation official photographer, and in 2005 exhibited his Warriors series at the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. Today he still lives in Arizona; still snapping pics and showcasing his work internationally.

Check his stuff out at kenjikawano.com.

old ways...

Aikido, while regarded (perhaps erroneously) as one of the more gentle of the martial arts, has its basis in more traditional and aggressive styles.

Morihei Ueshiba, prior to developing his own art, had mastered other forms of combat such as daito ryu and even sumo when he was younger. It was from this solid base--not out of thin air--that he then developed his own interpretation of martial arts in the style of aikido.

He said:

"Even though our path is completely different from the warrior arts of the past, it is not necessary to abandon totally the old ways. Absorb venerable traditions into this new Art by clothing them with fresh garments, and build on the classic styles to create better forms."

Myself, I study japanese jiu-jitsu, but glean from the traditions of karate, boxing, and, of course, aikido. I'm dressing up my own training in fresh garments in order to create the best forms for myself.

And if Ueshiba were practicing today, no doubt his style would evolve to meet today's nuances. But of course, it would again be a tweaking of the "old ways".

And ultimately, the Master would repeat the one thing that has transcended every epoch of Japanese warrior history.

That is, "Illuminate your path according to your inner light."

This is the true legacy of Morihei Ueshiba.

American Buddhism--Part One....

Western Buddhism is not Eastern Buddhism.

So explains Shunryu Suzuki in his book Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind.

He's not being critical so much as realistic. Culture and history influence things too much.

That said, I for one, appreciate the fusion of East meets West. It began in the 1800s with Asian immigration, and the literary efforts of the transcendentalist and theosophical movements (see naturalists Emerson, Thoreau, et al). Over many decades, the exploration of Eastern philosophy perhaps peaked during 1960s hippie culture and later New Age-ism. Along with increased immigration from Asia, and post WWII relations with Japan, today, Buddhism is one of the largest faiths in the U.S., comparable in numbers to Islam.

But, in my opinion, an influence largely overlooked in the emergence of Western Buddhism is the work of the post WWII Beat writers. These include the likes of Allen Ginsburg, Gary Snyder, and the lovable Jack Kerouac. The latter not only discussed Buddhism regularly in his pseudo-fiction tales of travel across America, but also created a form of hybrid Zen/American poetry. The Diamond Sutra was a major influence in the author's life.

Here's some ol' Jack, composed during a month-long, isolated stint as a mountaintop fire ranger:

"On foggy days the view from my toilet seat is like a Chinese Zen drawing.... I half expect to see two giggling old dharma bums, or one in rags, by the goat-horned stump, one with a broom, the other with a pen quill, writing poems about the Giggling Lings in the Fog--saying, 'Hanshan, what is the meaning of the void?' " -- Desolation Angels

And here he explains the need for poetic differences between the two continents:

"A 'Western Haiku' need not concern itself with the seventeen syllables since western languages cannot adapt themselves to the fluid syllabic Japanese." -- Book of Haikus

Later in life, Kerouac reverted back to his Roman Catholic roots, but his mark on American culture, in terms of East meets West, is undeniable.

"The second teaching from the golden eternity is that there never was a first teaching from the golden eternity. So be sure." --Kerouac

I just finished Jake Adelstein's book, Tokyo Vice.
The pages are filled with the author's memories of being a crime reporter in Japan. Elaborating on his many sources within the country's police and criminal establishments, he delves deeply into Yakuza business and the underground economy of Tokyo.
I will not elaborate on the content of the book. Suffice it to say the pages serve to illustrate the highs and lows of a journalist (I was briefly in the media business and the memoir at first made me want to rush back into this field as the author invokes the wondrous rush of sourcing a good story. By the end of the book, however, I took the opposite view, and couldn't help but feel sympathy as Adelstein had in many ways let his job eclipse the importance of family and friends).
A compelling aspect of the book, however, is the author's interpretation of a culture he is immersed in, but will never be fully a part of. It is a interesting intepretation of big city Japan by an American writer, who gets in very deep over his head.

side effects: programmed reactions

I notice many quirky things I do on a day-to-day basis because of my training. Here are some of the highlights:


- I turn to look at things in cat stance (eg. if i turn in a grocery store to look at the shelf behind me i rotate in this high defensive stance)


- I often answer "Hai" instead of "Yes" when people ask me questions

- I have to stop myself from bowing when I enter or leave a room


- If i am carrying a butter knife from the drawer to my plate of toast I conceal the blade alongside my forearm (boy, is the bread surprised!)

- When i reach out to do something, say open a curtain or whatever, I automatically tuck my thumbs in or alongside my index finger so neither one is in danger of being grabbed or broken

- When I am in pain from a non-martial arts scenario, like a dentist's needle, I tap to make the discomfort stop

And I am sure there are many more. One just hopes the practical aspects of the art are as successfully programmed....