The Duel

A renowned warrior came into a field to do battle.

The first challenger he met was his greatest adversary: Ego.

Both soldiers drew their swords and engaged in battle. They fought for many frantic minutes with no harm coming to either individual; both becoming increasingly fatigued as the conflict went on. But at a crucial moment, when the first warrior had Ego nearly defeated, he misjudged his opponent's strength and was pushed off balance and fell to the ground.

Ego, a smile coming across his face, raised his weapon and prepared to finish the conflict with one mighty swing of his sword.

But before he could do so, a chill breeze moved across the field, and on it sailed an arrow that pierced the armour of Ego, causing him to fall dead to the ground. The first warrior, incredulous, looked to his right and saw a third warrior carrying a bow.

His name was True Self.

the tree...

In the old Taoist texts of Chuang Tsu, there is written one of my favourite parables about a gigantic tree. The tree is massive and thought to be special wood as "those of three or four spans are cut down to make beams for tall, elegant houses. (And) those of seven or eight spans are cut down to make side boards for the coffins of aristocratic and rich merchant families." Such good trees never grow as big as this one, instead, the trees "never achieve their full stature but fall in their prime under the blows of the ax." Even a tree of one span or more is used for monkey perches, it is said. So what kind of special wood is this? What will such a great tree be used to build?
Upon closer inspection, the tree's branches are observed to be gnarled and it's trunk curved and knotted. The wood would not be good enough for beams or rafters. "Indeed, this tree is good for nothing. No wonder it grew so big. That is how it is! Holy men treasure this worthlessness."
This explains the "hazards of being useful."

Sword and Stone

The legend of the sword and the stone is a well known myth, conjuring up images of King Arthur and Camelot.

The outer meaning is simple: The person who can dislodge the weapon from the rock is preordained to become the ruler of the kingdom. There is apparently a magic spell fusing the sword and stone, and although not based in any real physics, it provides a mysterious beginning to the lore of the round table. Kids love this stuff.

But as always, there is a second meaning when it comes to mythology.

And in this case, the esoteric meaning is profound.

Stone, a very dense substance, is often a symbolic reference to the world and its matter. Limiting and immovable, it is bound to the physical laws such as gravity. It represents the Earth and our mortal bodies.

The sword is spirit and intellect. It cuts through the veil of any false perception and allows us to experience the spiritual aspects of life.

The King is the higher self who realizes the two different aspects of Self.

In a more eastern context, the fusion could be seen as yin and yang.

The fact that the many knights and dukes who feel entitled to the kingship fail to remove the sword despite their utmost physical effort is telling. It is the meek and ego-less boy who manages the feat, and he does so with no strain whatsoever.

A familiar lesson to be sure.

the door

Here's something that caught my attention.
I was recently in a store and noticed a mother and her teenage daughter entering through the front door.
The teenager carelessly let the heavy door fling back and bump her mother's shoulder, who in turn sighed irritably.
Said the mother:
"Don't you know that you should never just let go of a door? Come on. My hands were in my pockets. I taught you better than that..."
The daughter, embarrassed, apologized and I heard the mom grumbling as they walked away.
And I thought to myself, it's true, the daughter should have been more aware. More considerate.
But really, the mother was unaware of the true lesson of this event: that she was actually teaching her daughter that it's okay to follow people through doors with your hands in your pockets.

the Stubborn Warrior

Before Yoda there was author Carlos Castaneda and his Yaqui sage Don Juan Matus.

In the books, the old shaman is constantly trying to teach the younger man to expand his mind and break away from the social conditioning of his past in order to gain true insight into the world.

But the student is stubborn, and keeps finding excuses to hinder his own progress. He likens himself, and his resulting sorrow, to that of a leaf being blown by the wind.

And so he is chastised.

"The hardest thing in the world is to assume the mood of a warrior," (Don Juan) said. "It is of no use to be sad and complain and feel justified in doing so, believing that someone is always doing something to us. Nobody is doing anything to anybody, much less a warrior.

"You are here, with me, because you want to be here. You should have assumed full responsibility by now, so the idea that you are at the mercy of the wind should be inadmissible."

Castaneda gained a big New Age following with these stories that continues today. I think part of the reason for the popularity is the author's subtle parallels of wisdom between the indigenous cultures of both east and west (it provides an almost zen-like tradition based in the Arizona desert). For me, the whole student and teacher theme, explored in many a legend and parable, is more than just a literal description of knowledge being passed between the old and the young. To me, it reflects the concept of the Higher Self communicating with the intellectual self.

The Wheel -- Part Two

While still thinking about the cycles of learning and understanding, I came upon a good Zen saying while flipping through the Tao of Physics, a classic book by Fritjof Capra that has been around for a few decades now. To me, the saying has its parallel in the stages of technical development.

Before you study Zen, mountains are mountains and rivers are rivers; while you are studying Zen, mountains are no longer mountains and rivers are no longer rivers; but once you have had enlightenment, mountains are once again mountains and rivers again rivers.

Basically, we are all using the intellect in order to arrive at a point where it is no longer used or needed. All of our technical knowledge can be broken down this way: we see a technique being done by others, easily and effectively, all as one movement; while learning, we break the movements down into various parts such as, angles, speed, force; and then, after much practice, we come to a state of mind where there is no longer thought involved in execution.

Once again, rivers are rivers.

Thoughts Along the Way

"Fill a cup to its brim and it is easily spilled...."

This is phrase from the Tao, and of course it can be applied to many things. In martial arts, I see this as learning too much at once (and retaining little). Or, memorizing many techniques but not understanding the basics. Three strong basic movements can be much more valuable to a student than 100 misunderstood ones.

"Temper a sword to its hardest and it is easily broken..."

This line goes with the previous one. To me, in budo, this would include over-training to the point of exhaustion/injury. It could also mirror the previous statement in that so many finely detailed techniques could be easily toppled by a strong foundation.

"Gravity is the source of lightness, Calm, the master of haste..."

Again, a stable base allows for flow and fluidity. This can reflect physical balance, too, in stance-work and execution. And of course, when the mind is settled, one's movements, thoughtlessly, will arrive faster and more effectively.

"To reduce someone's influence, first expand it..."

This concept may be thought of as a tool in the defensive arts such as allowing an attacker to build confidence--throw an attack--and allowing them to leave him/herself vulnerable to a counter move. Giving the opponent room in order to take it back on your own terms.

"The river carves out the valley by flowing beneath it. Thereby the river is the master of the valley..."

This one reminds me of two things. One, is when I've watched my Sensei spar against taller opponents--he bends himself even lower until the opponent is unknowingly bending as well--then Sensei quickly stands upright, now equal in height to the taller opponent, and then nails them. The other thought, of course, is the intrinsic value of letting go of ego in budo.

This last one needs no comments:

"Compassion is the finest weapon and best defence. If you would establish harmony, Compassion must surround you like a fortress. Therefore, a good soldier does not inspire fear; A good fighter does not display aggression; A good conqueror does not engage in battle; A good leader does not exercise authority. This is the value of unimportance; This is how to win the cooperation of others; This to how to build the same harmony that is in nature."

The Butcher

"A good cook goes through a knife in a year, because he cuts. An average cook goes through a knife in a month, because he hacks. I have used this knife for nineteen years. It has butchered thousands of oxen, but the blade is still like it's newly sharpened.”
--Zhuangzi

The butcher then goes on to explain how little effort is needed to be effective, and how by following the natural structural patterns within the animal—that of the tendons, bones etc.—no resistance is met by the blade.
"The joints have openings, and the knife's blade has no thickness,” he adds.
The observer is elated and leaves the butcher having learned a “principle of life.”

*see journeyman's blog Yielding in the Martial Arts.