"Long Quiet Highway"

There is a book from the early '90s I recently re-read, called: Long Quiet Highway by American author Natalie Goldberg. It is a autobiographical memoir of a writer who is immersing herself in Zen study while maintaining a career as an author and writing instructor. In the book, she reflects upon many aspects of Japanese Buddhism, including, in one passage, what it is that makes a good teacher. The fact that Goldberg is referring to Zen isn't necessarily the point. The skills and ideals are transferable to instructors of any kind.
"That is the work of a teacher, not to get caught in the likes and dislikes of a student, but to come forth always with the deepest teachings. Often the student does not like this, thinks the teacher is mean, unfeeling, but a good teacher knows that if he or she plants a real seed, someday, maybe years later, even in the most ignorant of students the seed may sprout. So the teacher's job is to close the gap between the student's ignorance and the teachings, but often the student does not understand any of this. That is why the student is the student. The teacher understands this. That is why the teacher can have abundant patience."
In the next paragraph the author discusses being a student, and what pushes us to want to expand our minds.
"But if the student doesn't know about the gap, how can she learn? There is something in us, an urgency to meet the teachings on the other side, that gnaws at our ignorance, that desires to meet our own true face, however lazy and comfort-loving we may seem to be. This something was working in me, albeit slowly, and often underground."
As a student of martial arts, I understand this. As a student of life, I also understand this. That is why finding the right teacher is so crucial, no matter what it is you wish to learn. And the responsibility of being a teacher is maybe even more immense. One has to be selfless, patient, and look at everything as a whole. After all, a teacher is really a student as well, as in the end, teaching and learning are one in the same.
 

A Return...

I gave up on meditation about two years ago. Things in my life had drastically changed, and as a result, my focus on many things in life began to diminish. Also, a major factor, was that my time alone decreased significantly.
But recently, the art of sitting in silent contemplation has returned to my life.
It wasn't deliberate. I wasn't searching out solace or a way to regain my mental focus. And I'm not sure this will be the outcome, anyway, to tell you the truth.
Really, what happened was that I was reunited with a group of friends, who meet each week, and discuss books and spiritual ideas over coffee and tea. And they meditate. Twenty minutes at the beginning of each meeting.
Returning to meditation was daunting. At least at first. It had been a long time--my mind raced and I felt trapped. The clock ticked and my breathing was all over the place. But I settled in soon enough, and ended up having a pretty positive experience. Since then I have gone back four or five times, and manage now to find my zone pretty quickly.
But don't get me wrong, this isn't at the level of "no mind," transcendental type meditation. I'm still a hack, really, just trying to calm my mind here and there. No chakras are being opened, believe me, I'm just trying to sit and be relaxed for a twenty minute space of time.
And this approach has made it easier for me this time around. I am putting less pressure on myself to achieve results. In fact, I'm just happy to sit, my mind swirling, with the odd moment of peace tucked in for good measure--often accidentally.
But it's good to be back, for sure, and we'll worry about those chakras another day. 

Bang a (Qi) Gong....

art by alex grey

Beginning the next chapter can be overwhelming.

But it's what we strive to do on the Path.

For me, personally, the next stage was not one I chose, but one that chose me. That makes it more important, as the Universe is in on the game.

The next phase of my training will manifest itself as an increased focus on Qi Gong, an internal art from China that aims to cultivate Qi energy within the body. As I've mentioned before, my sensei has routinely incorporated this art into our training, but has now decided to formalize our studies. This means a curriculum, memorization, meditation, and patience.

"You will be frustrated," he said. "It will take a long time to achieve results."

I've studied with him for over three years now, and I trust his methods of teaching. I know if he feels that an increased attention to Qi Gong will boost our abilities then the lessons will be invaluable. I know from our previous exercises in breathing--utilizing Qi Gong methods--that my meditation skills were undoubtedly elevated. Also, a great deal of the nerve points used in the art are ones we already use to increase the pain level of our techniques. However, now we will use them to heal and not hurt.

I think returning to a beginner's mind is an extremely important thing to do as a student of this life. It's humbling, but also generates new focus and expanded understanding.

And that has to be good.... right?



*** Here is the main elemental chart for Qi Gong. It is quite interesting and will take much time to fully take in.

self-hypnosis...

When I was much younger I did an experiment of intention.

I cleared my mind prior to lifting a full, multi-litre water jug and imagined the object to be extremely heavy as if full of concrete. Grunting, I lifted it with my weak arm a few inches off the ground.

I, then, cleared my mind again, and thought of the jug as being empty. With the same arm, I lifted the container up to my waist with ease.

Another experiment is the following: Sitting in a chair, slow your breathing until you are very relaxed. Go through each part of your body, from your toes to your eyelids, consciously telling each and every muscle to loosen and unwind. Breathe more.... even slower. After several minutes, imagine two helium balloons attached to each wrist, and ever-so-slowly, as you breathe, visualize the balloons slowly rising into the air, inch by inch. The process will take several minutes, if done correctly, but by the end you will find your arms have been raised up over your head without any direct signals from your ego-brain.

You have just hypnotized yourself.

Now, on a heavy bag, imagine the target is soft and that your leg is full of qi energy. Loosen your muscles and unhinge the joints so you can visualize the energy move like a whip.

Regardless of why, or how, it will somehow feel better.... stronger..... and easier.

Now, have you just hypnotized yourself, or have you just allowed your energy to behave how it really is?

Qi: Part One

(the energy of uniting opposites?)

It's my belief that everyone who trains eventually searches for the verification of qi energy.

It may be conscious or not; it may not be why one begins their journey--but it is always encountered along the way.

And the thought never really goes away. Even if you think it has.

Perhaps the reason for this is that anyone who has spent any significant amount of time training has experienced the near-electric feeling of energy being properly focused and used to its full potential (sometimes by ourselves, often at the hand of another). As a friend who studied aikido once told me about his instructor: "I don't know what it is, but for some reason every time my Sensei throws me it hurts like Hell because it's so powerful. It's like getting hit by a truck. But then, for some reason I can't wait to get thrown and feel the energy again."

His teacher was barely five-feet-tall and my friend is about six feet.

And we've all either felt this ourselves or heard stories like it.

Now, Qi shouldn't necessarily be confused with fire shooting from one's fingertips. It is subtle. It's like looking for something that is so hard to find, only to realize that it IS US. We are the eye that, in Zen fashion, can look directly at anything in the world except itself.

Science, especially when it comes to quantum mechanics, could likely make a strong case for qi being a simple alignment of magnetic/electric body systems with non-local results. After all, the body, as with all matter, can theoretically be broken down into more of a frequency than a tangible solid, by these same scientists (and ancient mystics). Or a psychologist may assert that it's all the result of positive thinking and visualization. (This is the argument the skeptics prefer, that it's all in your head--and they wouldn't be entirely wrong. The world exists alone in one's consciousness, really, and the outer is a symptom of the inner.)

Any reasonable student of meditation will tell you that one goal of their art includes mentally breaking down the barriers between the external and the internal. In aikido circles--pun intended--this is the concept of tori and uke becoming as one. When this unity is achieved, the relationship is altered, and the separation of the tori's mind (intent) and the action of the uke is eliminated. And when two opposite forces unite.... well.... it's electric.

In this process, imagination IS the method of accessing qi. And when your mind buys into it, the body--a water-based conductor--aligns with the energetic signals of the brain.

And the Qi was there all along.

Discarding the Rules

Paying attention to rules--then discarding them--could be the key to basic self-defense.

For example, look closely at the rules of boxing, wrestling, tournament sparring, MMA, judo, and grappling. Some of these have a lot of rules, some have less. But the crucial aspect is that they all have guidelines in order to protect those involved in the match.

When I watch MMA, for example, I like to imagine how I would get free of someone's ground attack if I were truly pinned. So I look at the rules. No eye-gouging, no groin attacks, no finger breaks or wind pipe strikes. Why? Because they work--too well.

I am not saying a good triangle choke wouldn't be effective if an attacker held you on the ground, however, it might be the more difficult technique to attempt and it would take more practice, knowledge, and appropriate conditions to accomplish.

You want to get out of the situation--fast--and not leave yourself to vulnerable to an attack from any of the current assailant's friends.

Same thing goes for judo. I like judo, a lot. But there is a reason why a competition throw isn't executed after a strike to the solar plexus--it causes damage, and judo is a sport, after all.

Again, each sport has it's real world value--for sure--but often the simple and dirty stuff is just easier to teach and quicker to execute.

But then, an attacker obeys no rules either.

The Still Point

Meditation is an art that can be taught to a certain point, but then must be honed and personalized by the practitioner just as any hard style martial arts. While the goal for many is to find the Still Point--the realm where external senses recede and the Mind can simply be--the interpretation of the methods to attain this state remain subjective. For example, I use some basic breathing patterns and visualization techniques each time I meditate. They are old concepts likely passed down for countless generations. Yet, how I perceive these methods, especially how I personally visualize them, has become very much my own. Like budo, we adapt techniques for our own needs, yet we must remain true to the overall process involved.

An example might be a simple straight punch. One student may picture a bullet spiraling out of a rifle, generating power and momentum as it travels. Another may imagine his/her hand like Bruce Lee's idea of an iron ball attached to a flexible chain. However, while both analogies may help the student develop form and energy, the point remains that the fist, rotating, travels from point A to point B in the straightest manner possible.

The variance is imagery.

After all, the practitioner of meditation, whether following the tenants of Indian Kundalini or Chinese Tai Chi, are both attempting to reach the same pinnacle of clarity and/or illumination. Just as the Hapkido student and that of Karate are both training in a differing manner but for a similar purpose.

And within these schools, too, each individual finds his/her own way.

'Lazy' Internal Arts

The concept of Hard-Soft enters many a conversation regarding martial arts technique. I’m sure I need not elaborate too much on this point—most of us understand the notion—that yin/yang enters into training in the form of rigid force and flexible movement. This, in theory, makes for well rounded budo.
But taken a step further, the concept of hard and soft can be embraced and benefited from at an even higher level: the balance between the physical and the mental. It is not by chance that many experienced external artists at some point in their journey begin to explore the path of the internal arts such as meditation, qi gong, or tai chi. I think at some point, after proficiency is achieved both technically and physically, the external art is complemented by an understanding of the inner workings.
Here is a good summary of the idea:
“‘….Some years ago, (A Sensei) chose two students who were as evenly endowed with natural talents as possible. One he trained purely on calisthenics and work-outs, taught him all the tricks. The other he gave less physical training, but made him do zazen religious meditation every day for half an hour when he awoke and again before his evening work-outs, squatting like Buddha, forcing all his internal organs into proper alignment, breathing “right down to his toes” and clearing his mind. After six months, both came up for their black belt test and he matched them.… The thinker made mincemeat of the muscle boy.’ (Jay Gluck, Zen Combat)
“The same point of view was expressed by a high-ranking instructor of (aikido)…when he warned against qualifying as “lazy” those students who devote a greater proportion of their time on the mat to sitting or standing in evident concentration, as compared to those who are busily engaged in techniques, physical exercises, and so forth. This instructor had also realized that the former could often perform better under stress than the latter because they had been working to develop those inner factors of stability, control, and power which are considered to be the necessary foundation for correct outer technique.”
–(Secrets of the Samurai, Ratti/Westbrook)

Emptiness

This, to me, is the beginning of learning. Dismissing what you think you already know and becoming as a blank sheet of paper; becoming as a vessel hollowed out, ready to contain something of sustenance.

Perhaps emptiness itself.
Those who practice mediation may refer to the state of No Mind. This is a space of calm where new insights are achieved without the influence of external sensory. This state is similarly used in the martial arts to achieve unison with both the attacker and situation. Explains Journeyman over at Japanese Jiu Jitsu (see Randori):
“This state of no-mindedness is called Mushin in Japanese and it is a state we should all strive to attain. When the mind is empty, it is free to respond instantly to any attack.”
This resonates with the teachings of Aikido founder Morihei Ueshiba, who is quoted in his manual The Art of Peace:
“Cast off limiting thoughts and return to emptiness. Stand in the midst of the Great Void. This is the secret of the way of a warrior.”
He continues to say that a warrior of peace contests nothing and that “Defeat means to defeat the mind of contention that we harbour within.”