The Balance

I am returning to the philosophy of circles.

When I began martial arts, it was with the focus on the circle. Techniques were always completed with this concept in mind; defences were based upon rounded movements, such as jiu-jitsu usually is. This philosophy became the basis of my training. And while I haven't forgotten this, somewhere along the way I started to take my own philosophies for granted.

You see, as I grew to be a more experienced striker, I learned the value of a linear approach to defence to complement the circle. I learned about centre lines, jabs, and crosses. Attacking on angles and doing kata in line formations. Often, it seemed, the quickest route to reach an opponent was in a straight line.

My circles never went away, though, I just didn't focus on them in the same way I once did. But my mind is returning to it, now, albeit in a more layered manner than before.

I like to look at a karate reverse punch as a good example of combining straight lines with circular movements. The punch, to be quick and effective, must travel directly at its target – in a straight blast of power. The foot, also, lunges into a forward stance, aimed in the same direction as the arm. But, the circle is still there. The fist corkscrews as it is extended; the hips turn in order to generate power. It is a perfect balance of both concepts at work.

Lately, I have been hoping to increase my jiu-jitsu training once again. It's like going home and I'm excited. I am once more thinking in circles both small and large. And I am applying the philosophy to what I have learned in the meantime, blending the two, hopefully, into seemless, coherent actions.

Compassion

Unconditional compassion may be one of the most important qualities a human being can strive to possess. To be selfless is a major key to opening the door to true understanding. I, like everyone else in the world, find this hard at times. I do not have a violent temper or anything like that, but I am human, and humans do not always live up to their true spiritual potential. It's part of the gig. It's part of learning.
“I am good to people who are good. I am also good to people who are not good. Because Virtue is goodness.
I have faith in people who are faithful. I also have faith in people who are not faithful. Because Virtue is faithfulness."
-- Tao Te Ching
Compassion, while to a certain degree natural and latent in us all, sometimes needs to be practised and honed just like any other skill we seek to learn. When we practise a martial art, for example, we expect difficulty and challenges along the way. That's why we practise so hard and so long. Our approach to spirituality should be no different.
"The Art of Peace begins with you. Work on yourself and your appointed task in the Art of Peace."
-- Morihei Ueshiba
And compassion does lead to peace in the end. Sometimes the process feels painfully exhausting, I admit, but our spiritual teachers were definitely onto something when they preached patience and kindness. In reality, anger and frustration merely cloud our minds. They obscure our focus and mental clarity.
"When a delusion like anger is present, we lose control."
-- The Dalai Lama
So although we will invariably fail at times, the pursuit of unconditional compassion is a worthy path to embark upon. It will not only help us fine tune our own spirituality, but it will make us better teachers to those around us as well.
"For hate is not conquered by hate: hate is conquered by love. This is a law eternal."
-- The Dhammapada

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.

Qi For Two

It exists. It doesn't exist.
We all know the debate over whether or not qi, or energy force, is an actual source of power which can be tapped into by those with the know-how to do so. My attempt here is not to take sides; it is not to prove or disprove qi energy. Rather, it is to relate an interesting situation in which I find myself as a student of martial arts.
For a few years now, I have studied under two different instructors, although I still consider my first sensei to be my main go-to teacher. That said, I have enjoyed and benefited from delving into another style of martial art, one that I hope complements my original knowledge and training. It seems to work, and I have fun while doing it.
So what i find intriguing is this: while I have great respect for both instructors, and try to soak in as much information from each one while in their respective dojos, they differ in one main philosophical outlook. One teacher believes strongly in qi energy, while the other views the emergence of any extra force during a technique as more of a mechanical phenomenon, i.e. something more tangible and physical.
I find the contrasting outlooks of great interest. I find it symbolic of the split in the martial arts in general. Yin and Yang, perhaps. And I don't view one instructor as less effective or less wise. After all, one major thing both teachers have in common is that the technique works best when it is done properly. With proper mechanics. More power comes from this, whether accompanied by qi or not. As to whether more energy can be added is a different story, one that I prefer to leave be for the time being.
Because like I said, I'm not taking sides right now. Instead, what I try to do is embrace the teaching of both, all the while exploring the options myself, in my own mind.

Siddhartha

It was almost twenty years ago that I first read Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse. The book, a fictional account of a wandering monk in the time of the Buddha, is a story sure to trigger spiritual contemplation in any reader. It traces the protagonist's journey through asceticism, worldly desires, and eventually peace and reflection. It is ultimately about seeking truth in all its mystery, which, for Siddhartha, is what life is ultimately all about.
Although it is difficult to remember my exact thoughts about the book twenty years ago, what I do realize is how differently the words feel now that I have had much more life experience. Don't get me wrong, I was still very spiritually minded as a young man. At least as much as today. However, our consciousness seems to be ever-expanding, and as a result, time truly does give us perspective.
One of the things that really struck me this time reading the novel was the fact that this was not just a westerner's interpretation of Eastern thought, but a fusion of Eastern thought with Western mysticism. Hesse was, after all, German, and his take on Eastern philosophy was still seen through the eyes of the West. That said, the truth is the truth regardless of where one lives, and therefore the author still manages to cut through to the core of Siddhartha's contemplative nature.
While doing this, Hesse very deliberately draws parallels between the Buddha and his character, Siddhartha, but is very careful to separate the two in their approach to spirituality and teaching.
At the heart of Siddhartha, is the idea that, "Wisdom is not communicable." Instead, it is seen and heard everywhere all at once, and everything in life is timeless and unified.
However, regardless of which age I happened to be reading this novel, the author's words made me reflect deeply upon the nature of life and reality itself. While now I can relate more to the different stages of Siddhartha's life, perhaps when I'm older I'll look back with even more perspective upon Hesse's eloquent story.

Anger...

In the book, The Power of Myth, Joseph Campbell retells an old Japanese legend about a samurai who had "the duty to avenge the murder of his overlord." But, in the moment he was about to use his sword to strike down his adversary, the man spat in the samurai's face. "And (so) the warrior sheathed the sword and walked away."
Campbell explains how the warrior was angered by the act of spitting, and realized if he struck down the man in rage it would have become "a personal act." That was not what the samurai had come to do, says Campbell.
It rings of Luke Skywalker's temptation to strike down the Emperor--an act that would have altered Luke's fate forever, as the act would have been one based in anger and hatred. This would have made him as malevolent as the one he sought to destroy.
While emotion may be a useful and powerful thing, anger and fear can distort. They can blacken our hearts and create reactions not thought through with a rational mind.
Viewed historically (and on a larger scale), armies have been mobilized based on anger-inducing propaganda. After all, if there is only compassion for the other side in a conflict, what soldier would pick up a weapon to kill? What population would give consent to a war that had no villain?
I'm not saying what wars have been justified and which have not. I'm just saying that the masses can be swayed either way by the right use of media. And often, anger is the emotion targeted in order to influence large groups of people.
On an individual scale, anger can also make us do things we shouldn't. Such emotions can cloud the mind. And even the most passive soul can be angered by something.
I guess it is about whether or not we strike out at others when we become angry, or whether we try to tame the emotions and wait until we can think clearly once again.

the zen is mightier than the sword....

maybe i'm not a true warrior... i don't possess "killer" instincts; real violence makes me ill; and i tend to train more in my brain than in the dojo as of late... in fact, some of my best lessons have come from friends while drinking beer and smoking cigars, or just laying in bed staring up at the ceiling...  (is this traditional?)
i guess i have never been orthodox at anything in my life--sports, academics, career, etc....
yet i feel driven; i feel purpose behind my actions... and i know warriors come in all forms and fight all kinds of battles...
but can "killer" be cultivated? and if so, is that something i want to attain?
i think i have to push past this notion of violence... past this notion of petty contradictions...

the dark ages...

it's been a tough couple weeks in my martial arts brain.... classes have been few and far between, and to boot, i have had a recurrence of very bad back pain... stabbing daggers bad.... i keep telling myself that all martial artists train with discomfort of some sort, and i, too, have always been banged up to a certain degree... yet pain is a great tool for making one humble... albeit grumpy, as well....
in fact, the amount of physical pain that manifests itself as mental struggle is amazing... it's not, "all in your head," but there is a definite battle that takes place there... one loses sight of which hurts more--the thought of being hurt or the pain itself.... it reminds me of a native north american saying that was written on a piece of art given to me many moons ago: "...Änd the shaman gave us the wisdom of the bear and the orca. First the bear spoke saying: Seek strength, not to be greater than your brother, but to fight your own greatest enemy... yourself. Then spake orca: You must live your life from the beginning to the end, no one else can do it for you..."

  

the broken buddha....

Years ago, a friend of mine was going through hard times. We were young. He left the city where we lived and went to stay with his folks for a year before he moved away once again for some further education.
He lived in a basement. He wrote a book of poetry. He met me sometimes for a chat or to throw around the football.
Pain is a strange thing, as most of us know. Enlightenment can truly arise from its depths. Don't get me wrong, any of us would trade away the anguish in a second for some calm and joy. And his trials would pass, in time.
Anyway, one of my best glimpses of Zen came from those days--in the shadowy basement of a suburban bungalow--in a city just like any other. I guess my friend had ordered Chinese food, not wanting to cook one evening, and the food had arrived with one of those cheap scroll calenders that most customers throw out. You know, the ones that say it's the year of the tiger or whatever and then have a calendar beneath this info with a giant business card ad... i.e. the true motivation for giving the calendar in the first place. (Phew... I'm out of breath now). Well, this calendar hung on the wall for the whole year in my friends room.
Backwards.
Yup. The words and images faced the wall. And in tiny writing, barely discernible on the otherwise blank back of the scroll, was a barely legible sentence. It read: "Time does not exist."
And to this day I am sure that my friend was right.

The Tao of Tarot...

I stumbled upon this Feng Shui Tarot Deck recently. And I like the art.... a lot. I don't do tarot divination but as a visual artist, i love checking out different interpretations of the cards, especially the major arcana. This one, to me, was a great mixture (both mystically and artistically) of east meets west.

But what really caught my eye was the card above: Strength. This card is in all decks and often includes a depiction of a lion and a woman--symbolizing the balancing of our lower and higher natures. Anyway, the above version is different than normal as it shows a man practicing internal martial arts, possibly tai chi or qi gong. It depicts the balancing of internal strength with the external. The Strength card was once referred to as the Fortitude card--perhaps a more accurate name for the attributes it describes. Below I have found another "Eastern" style pack: the Ukiyoe Tarot. I have shown the Strength card, once again, and this time it has more of a traditional depiction with the lion.

chi (and fish)

i don't think i'm looking for chi anymore.
anyway, i'm not looking to define it; i'm not looking to be a superman, if you will.
i've been on a quest, it seems, to understand it. but, as we know, to seek something is often to lose it. i'm happier now that i accept chi as maybe real--maybe self-hypnosis--maybe science and mechanics. journeyman does a good post on these points here. i wonder if he was on a quest, too. he seems to be at peace with it, anyway.
i train with a sensei who really believes it is a factor in the martial arts. i don't disagree, but then there are guys like Bruce Lee and Professor Wally Jay who i admire and don't neccesarily worry about it too much. (at least outwardly).
maybe jedi knights ruined chi for everyone by making kids want to become supernatural , imbued with chi/Force. That said, i've seen some pretty crazy shit that i cannot explain. maybe it's chi.
but i don't see a lot of crazy stuff. maybe i need a temple to hang out at in a remote jungle somewhere. maybe chi is there.
or maybe it's everywhere, and we, like fish, cannot discern the water all around us. (does a fish use chi to swim? is the water its chi? does a fish prefer spelling it chi or qi?)
just because i'm not searching doesn't mean i'm against it.....
or against fish, for that matter.

the Self

You will never master the Self, yet it should be your life's work to try.
Perhaps mastery just happens in specific moments; perhaps the journey, is, in fact, more important than the destination. The physical world is too malleable and uncertain to contain Heaven or Nirvana. What is left is the Way--the Tao--the path back to one's Self.
And the Self is a sword blade that can cut all things around it, but never cut itself. We must try to keep that blade as sharp as possible. Our Minds need training and discipline.
"Nirvana is reached by that man who wisely, heroically, trains himself," suggests the Dhammapada texts.
Mastery, to the followers of Buddha, is to be found in the transcendence of the world's sorrows. Buddha sat under a tree until he mastered Himself; and His enlightenment was lasting. (So on paper, my argument is incorrect).
But most of us are not ascended beings.... at least yet.
So we train. And train some more. We seek after glimpses of Nirvana rather than total enlightenment. For this is our nature... we are seekers. If we found the entire truth, the game would be up. Right?
And maybe then, eventually:
"With the dust of impurities blown off, and free from sinful passions, (we) will come unto the glorious land of the great." (Dhammapada)

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."

drawing on experience...

Tell me when this seems familiar....
I do a lot of drawing and art in general. In fact, once a week, on a morning usually stiff and tired from the previous night's training, I attend a drawing class focusing on the human figure (the hardest overall subject to master artistically). Many of the other people there have been going for years, while I've been going the past few months. The work is humbling, yet the small achievements are very fulfilling.
While usually I sit alone and zone out into my own little world, this past week there was not as much room as normal so I set up next to a lady--likely the oldest person in the room. I went to work, creating detailed, intricate sketches which although I liked, I didn't feel were my best pieces. The lady next to me took a keen interest in what I was doing and praised several of my works. She was both sweet and kind.
"A lot of detail," she commented with a knowing smile.
But after awhile, I began to struggle a bit with my images. I was losing the flow and focus of the pictures. So, stepping back from my paper, I decided to watch the older lady, who was using the most simplistic of tools, a paint brush and a pot of ink. I was delighted to see her work: The cleanest lines; the smallest effort; the most accurate depictions. I was in awe at how loosely but confidently her images were formed. I abandoned my own work and just watched her for a long while.
Is it age? We have all witnessed the sensei who, in his/her maturity, whips the student around without effort or folly. We have all been blown away by the master who seems to "know" things no one else does, and utilize his/her tools more effectively than a less experienced individual could ever hope to achieve.
This little woman was like a real life yoda with a brush. She left out so many useless details in order to make a more coherent body of work. And she was teaching me without so much as a word.
Lesson learned.... again. From now on, I sit next to the elder, kind and talented lady and hope to learn a few things from her experience.
It's all so familiar, to me.

being low...

The Valley.
In Taoist terms, being like a valley is to place yourself humbly beneath others around you. By doing so, even the persona of water--arguably the most powerful and adaptable force on earth--will be directed to your feet by the passive use of gravity. It is a great metaphor in terms of slaying the ego.
In terms of physical application, the valley is symbolic of letting one's opponent come to you. Stillness overcoming force. Gravity, as all martial artists realize, is a powerful tool, and is the root of many a valuable technique.
In fact, it reminds me of my sensei who I've often heard teaching students, when sparring with a taller opponent, to bend down even farther, and slowly lure the opponent into lowering him/herself to reach you. Then when you feel ready, the trick is to pop back up and execute your attack.
This is from the same teacher who insists, somewhat in jest, that the most balanced position the human being can find themselves in is lying flat on his/her back.
Likely some brazilian jiu-jitsu guys might appreciate this comment.

the zen of the west....

The modern merging of eastern and western thought is not actually new.
Many ancient texts and thinkers of the West incorporated a less linear approach to the Natural world, the cosmos, and humankind, including the Gnostic Christians who were wiped out en mass in the early days of the Universal Church. Later, the emergence of Hermetic thought echoed more abstract ideals (claiming lineage from Egypt), and thinkers such as Giordano Bruno were martyred for philosophies that may have rivaled the innovation of Galileo. (Bruno claimed the sun was, in fact, a star, and was one of an infinite number in the Universe).
While I'm not suggesting these thinkers had personal ties to the East, I am asserting that there was more simultaneous and similar thought processes apparent in the West and East throughout history. (Even alchemy can be linked, albeit different in expression, to both China and Europe).
Here's some quotes from some of the more influential and occulted texts of the past centuries in Europe:
"In a sense, the Cosmos is changeless, because its motions are determined by unalterable laws.... Its parts manifest, disappear and are created anew... Even the present does not last, so how can it be said to exist...?" -- the Hermetica
"The All creates in its infinite Mind countless universes... The infinite Mind of The All is the womb of the universe." --the Kybalion
What happened, historically, is that much of the Western thought that did not toe the party line went underground or became protected by secrecy. A good example is alchemy, whereby under exoteric terms it was a science to do with transforming metals, esoterically it was a guideline to transform one's soul into purity. This, to me, is not unlike seeking enlightenment through contemplation and/or physical training.
So the merging of East and West is just like using both sides of the brain. Each contains knowledge of the other, yet expresses it in varied ways.
But the blending is far from a recent phenomenon.

"As Above..."

In the philosophical school of Hermeticism--a western mystical tradition--the theory of "As above, so below" is used to define the correspondences of the microcosmic world and the universe itself. It is, in other words, suggesting that the human being's very nature is a reflection of the workings of nature itself.

In Taoist writings, this statement is clearly echoed. The Tao Te Ching posits that a person need not travel to far off lands to gain wisdom and insight, rather, the individual need just look outside his/her own window. Apropos of this, we find many techniques in the Chinese systems of internal and external martial arts given names that reflect nature in a broader sense. It may be Kung Fu's adaptation of animal movements; it might be the "Hands through clouds" of Tai Chi.

In the words of aikido's Morihei Ueshiba, this theory is explained thus: "If you perceive the true form of heaven and earth, you will be enlightened to your own true form."

But why does this theory matter at all?

I think, if we are to achieve harmony--Oneness--either within our own psyches or with an opposing person or force, the theory is invaluable. It explains balance on an all-encompassing level; it explains the inclinations of behaviour and motion.

In addition, meditation, and/or Qi practice, often harness the mental connections of the human mind and the energy of the natural world. As sources of qi, we may bring down sun energy or lunar energy into our bodies. (Often the sun or moon can be used as focal points of meditation exercises. A candle, a microcosm of the sun, may also be used.)

Likewise, as the planets move in a circular pattern, so do we maximize energy in a throw. The gravity of holding the moon in place is the same gravity we use in martial arts, and is even reflected in our molecular makeup.

The reverse of this theory is also true: by studying the self, we can learn the secrets of the universe.

words...

"Watch for anger of the body: let your body be self-controlled. Hurt not with the body, but use your body well.
Watch for anger of words: let your words be self-controlled. Hurt not with words, but use your words well." -- The Dhammapada
The first part, not using unnecessary violence, is well known to most practitioners of martial arts. The second, I feel, is a beneficial outcome of a martially disciplined mind.
Words can damage as much as a fist; they cannot be taken back--just like a punch thrown at a target. Most people think this means aggressive, rudely phrased words--yelling and screaming. But in truth, subtle quips, negative comments, and frequent jests can erode another's self worth over time.
A teacher must be aware of this; a student, a friend, a parent, or a spouse.
In a dojo setting, for example, this does not mean giving endless praise to one's students. Nor should a training partner have only non-critical words for his/her partner. However, I have known many individuals who have stopped doing something they loved because of words either said or not said.
"Speak the truth, yield not to anger, give what you can to him who asks..."

intuition...

Intuition needs to be exercised and developed like any other aspect of training.
When we spend too much time breaking down techniques, analyzing details etc., a partial atrophy of intuitiveness can take place. I think technique is a tool of intuition, not the other way around (or at least it's equal).
In this way, perhaps, no mind can be looked upon as a link to intuitive mind. An open gate to the flow of emotive power; an over-riding of gut feeling over the analytical.
But how is it practiced? Perhaps just by listening to it on a regular basis. Not just in a martial arts perspective, but in daily life situations. By quieting the part of the brain that keeps nagging you with too much data regarding outcome and probability. Intuition, tied to instinct, can save you from hesitation. And hesitation in daily life can be as damaging as hesitation in self-defense.
Of course, there is time for intellect. No one should argue this fact. It's just that most of us practice this on a regular basis, while the other aspects often get silenced by the voice of "reason."

working without doing...

"The sage does not attempt anything very big, and thus achieves greatness."-- Tao Te Ching, Chapter 63

This is what is meant by, "Working without doing." Or, "Seeing simplicity in the complicated."

I, personally, am often guilty of looking too far ahead. I am guilty of trying too hard to achieve results. Any philosopher or martial artist knows that this leads to problems. It hinders growth, rather than encouraging it.

But we fall back into this pattern again and again.

However, plants don't try to grow. Just as our own bodies didn't reach adulthood through conscious effort.

"In the universe the difficult things are done as if they're easy.... Great acts are made up of small deeds."

The underlying concept of this, the chapter goes on to say, is to: "Magnify the small, increase the few."

And then just go with the flow.

I guess this is, "Working without doing."