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.

The Moon in the Water

"Attain stillness while moving..."

Ah, Bruce, what sweet words you use (Bruce Lee, not Springsteen).

Anyway, this is a statement from Lee's writings, specifically a chapter on combat mobility. He goes on to use the analogy of the moon's reflection in water, still and quiet despite the rolling and breaking waves. It's good, sound, Taoist stuff, which Lee used in many of his martial analyses. He broke down technique endlessly, all the while acknowledging the crucial--yet intangible--mental elements of training that serve to elevate the skill of a martial practionioner.

I think stillness while moving transcends combat.

One who is aware of his/her surroundings while walking along a busy downtown sidewalk is Still While Moving. One who considers what repercussions his/her actions will have amongst others is Still While Moving. One who stays true to his/her honour while out working and exploring in the world is Still While Moving. And one who trains in a combative art for the sake of self-betterment and with non-aggressive goals is Still While Moving.

The moon in the river is Mind. It is the steadfastness of Spirit despite the ever-changing backdrop of the world we live in.

the finished work....

My art instructor used to tell us that we should get used to the fact that one's original idea and the way a finished piece will actually look will always be different.
After years of toil I can now say she was right.
And my journey in martial arts is now echoing this sentiment.
There was the original inspiration, followed by a presumed idea, of what my style and knowledge should be after a certain length of time. However, reality is such that each lesson, triumph, error, and analysis have led me to the spot where I stand right now: With a much different outlook and understanding than I could have imagined prior.
Now, the finished work is far off, but the nature of my progress indicates that this pattern will persist. In this process, it seems, one is influenced by those around them as much as one's personal goals. We may get pushed in areas we wouldn't want to be pushed; counters to our favourite techniques emerge; we may work with someone who is physically larger or smaller than average. You may spar with a boxer or a goju student, leading you to adapt your style. You may have beginners that help you re-evaluate finer details as you do your part to assist them in their journey. It goes on and on.
But mainly, it's the philosophical aspects that are different. These, too, are countless. But suffice it to say, the finished piece is going to look much different than the initial concept.

really...? it's gone....?

I just worked on a post for a good deal of time and then lost it.
I am not ready to re-write it.
It was about No-Mind becoming All-Mind.
Now I have Annoyed-Mind; Lack-of-Faith-in-Technology-Mind.
Soon I will have That’s-OK-Mind, followed by Lesson-In-Patience-Mind.

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....

Weapons and Empty Hands

It is often taught that a weapon can be used as an extension of empty hand technique. I think this is very true, and it often helps to think of it as such. However, I also like to think of training with a weapon as a means to give further insight into empty hand technique.

I have noticed, for example, the more I train with a yawara (small stick), the more I transfer these same techniques to my weaponless defenses (for nerve point attacks I often use a knuckle in place of the stick). It works as well with longer weapons such as a Bo staff where leg kicks can be substituted for many of the sweeps/attacks.

The bottom line is that we are always training to hit the same joints and vulnerable areas of the body regardless of what we have or do not have in our hand.

This is not to say a weapon will not be more devastating if it connects (a bullet's speed beats a straight punch any day--and a knife is sharper than a ridge hand strike), but in the end, we can use our hands and feet to emulate such attacks.

And vice vera, of course.