The Monk and the Samurai

There are several version of this tale. Sometimes, Hakuin is the hero. A Zen monk was once visited by a samurai warrior. “I want to know about heaven and hell,” said the samurai. “Do they really exist?” he asked the monk.   The Monk looked at the samurai and asked, “Who are you?”   “I am a samurai,” announced the proud warrior.   “A samurai, really?” exclaimed the monk.  “Look at yourself ! You're unkempt, dumb and dirty. Indeed you're a disgrace and an embarrassment to the whole samurai class ! What makes you think you could understand such insightful things? Go away and do not waste my time with your foolish questions,” the monk said, waving his hand to drive away the samurai.   The enraged samurai drew his sword to slice the monk's head off, and the monk calmly retorted,  “THIS,  is Hell.” The samurai was taken aback. His face softened. Humbled by the wisdom of the monk, he put away his sword and bowed to him. “And THIS, is heaven,”  stated the monk just as calmly. Most people think this story is about the compassion and courage of the Monk who does not hesitate to put his life in danger to teach the Samurai. They are missing the point. No matter how admirable compassion is, it does not help people break the chains of suffering. The problem is not Hell or Heaven, the problem is Liking or Disliking. By insulting the Samurai the monk sets in motion the whole chain of dependent origination. On hearing the words "unkempt, dumb and dirty", rage - suffering - dukkha -  instantly raises in the samurai.  His proud ego  - He - is born anew.  And as soon as he hears "This is Hell", he realizes what has been happening. This same ego  - He - dies. The monk in fact skilfully demonstrated to him the mechanisms of Dependent Origination: how our ego constantly dies and is reborn in us.  In our ignorance of the dharma we are addicted to the world and ego we have built. Until we figure out how we can use the same mechanisms that have been enslaving us to free ourselves, we will suffer, just like the samurai suffered when the monk insulted him. The Buddha himself taught that Dependent Origination was a complicated and subtle thing to realize. It is so confusing that  it has been interpreted in very different ways by numerous Buddhist sects. In Zen, we do not put much emphasis in studying it, relying on the Heart Sutra's  negation of it : "There is neither Ignorance, nor extinction of Ignorance, neither Old Age and Death nor extinction of Old Age and Death".  But for a slow and thick headed learner as me, studying the basics : 4 Noble Truth, 8 fold path, and Dependent Origination is very helpful. I do not take them as Dogma or Theories, but as Efficient Tools to be used toward a Practical Goal.  Take Dogen's "Dropping body and Mind". People who are much more advanced than me wrote fascinating and abstruse stuff about it. But if you study Dependent Origination, it appears very likely that Dogen was simply  referring to the 4th link of Dependent Origination : Body/Mind - Nama/Rupa and that there is no need to  think of anything more complicated than that.  Before you run, learn how to walk, always practice basics... The great way is not difficult,  For those who have no preference...

Sitting Still

There is a story that tells of Meister Eckhart’s meeting with a poor man: “You may be holy,” says Eckhart, “but what made you holy, brother?” And the answer comes: “My sitting still, my elevated thoughts, and my union with God.” It is useful for our present theme to note that the practice of sitting still is given pride of place.

In the Middle Ages people were well aware of the inexhaustible power that arises simply from sitting still. After that time, knowledge of the purifying power of stillness and its practice was, in the West, largely lost. The tradition of preparing man for the breakthrough of transcendence by means of inner quiet and motionless sitting has been preserved in the East to the present day. Even in cases where practice is apparently directed not to immobility but towards activity – as in archery, sword fighting, wrestling, painting, flower arrangement  – it is always the inner attitude of quiet and not the successful performance of the ways which is regarded as of fundamental importance.

Once a technique has been mastered, any inadequate performance is mirrored in wrong attitudes. The traditional knowledge of the fact that it is possible for a man to be inwardly cleansed solely through the practice of right posture has kept alive the significance of correct sitting. The inner quiet which arises when the body is motionless and in its best possible form can become the source of transcendental experience. By emptying ourselves of all those matters that normally occupy us we become receptive to Greater Being.

It should be understood that the transformation which is brought about by means of meditation is not merely a change in man’s inner life, but a renewal of his whole person. It is a mistake to imagine that enlightenment is no more than an experience which suddenly brings fresh inward understanding, as a brilliant physicist may have a sudden inspiration which throws new light on his work and causes a re-ordering of his whole system of thought.

Such an experience leaves the person himself unchanged. True enlightenment has nothing to do with this kind of sudden insight. When it occurs, it has the effect of so fundamentally affecting and shaking the whole person that he himself, as well as his total physical existence in the world, is completely transformed.

To what extent the habit of sitting can impress and change us becomes clear only when we have taken pains to practice it. After a short time we find ourselves asking: how is it possible that such a simple exercise can have such far-reaching effects on the body and soul? Sitting still, we begin to realize, is not what we had imagined physical or spiritual practice to be. We are faced, therefore, with the question: “What is it we are really practicing if, although both are affected it is neither body nor spirit?” The answer to this is that the person who practices is himself being practiced. The one who is worked upon is the Person in his original totality, who is present beneath and beyond all possible differentiation into the many and various physical, spiritual, and mental aspects. In so far as we regard and value ourselves as incarnate persons, certain manifestations in our life move from their accustomed shadow into the light of understanding. Thus our moods and postures take on new meaning. So long as we think of body and soul as two separate entities, we regard moods simply as “feelings,” and look upon bodily attitudes and breathing as merely physical manifestations. When, however, the whole person is recognized as a “thou,” it is no longer possible to separate body and soul. Once it becomes a question of transformation, our basic moods, together with all the gestures and postures that express them, acquire new significance. They are the means through which we grow aware of, manifest ourselves, and become physically present in the world…

The so-called “peace” of the world-ego, illustrated by the bourgeois aim of a “quiet life,” comes about when all inner movement and growth have stopped. Of quite a different quality is the peace of inner being and the life which strives to manifest itself through it. This kind of peace can only prevail where nothing further interrupts the movement towards becoming. To achieve such an attitude to life is the aim of all practice and meditation; it can never represent a state of “having arrived” but is always a process of “being on the way.” Such practice, therefore, is by no means acceptable to all. There are many who throng to the so-called prophets who promise a cheap kind of peace to troubled mankind. But such “masters” simply betray man by hiding from him the real cause of his anxiety, which lies in the desire for transformation inherent in his innermost being.

From Karlfried Graf Dürckheim, Daily Life as Spiritual Exercise: The Way of Transformation,

This excerpt appeared in the  Parabola Fall 1996 issue, Peace.

Heaven and Hell

Mugen and I often have meaningful conversations at red lights, and may not see that it turned to green. Not long ago on my way to Karate, I had stopped at a red light. The light must have been green for 3 seconds, and some idiot behind me honked. 

That pissed me off !  I really felt like getting off my car to go punch the moron in the face.

Now what is amazing is the speed at which this happens. It is unreal ! In a matter of a few milliseconds, you switch from Dr. Jekyll to Mr Hide. (I've heard that some women have the ability to do that even faster, but this is a different story...).

No seriously, it is hard to believe, It is so fast, no conscious ego involved. Pure, Row Anger Flaring. 5 skandhas at work.

• Form : the honking,
• Sensation: the sound hits the eardrum;
• Consciousness : awareness of the sound;
• Perception : someone is not happy,
• Mental formation - pure, row anger.

Later on the Ego becomes involved. Anger needs to be resolved - it really is not good for the body : high blood pressure, adrenaline overflows, stomach acidity...

• Either give up to Anger and blindly act upon it : Go punch the moron's face, or just wait 5 more seconds before starting the car; (You're an ass, I can be a bigger ass), or 

• Try to deflate Anger through reasoning : "Look, you are not going to do this, you have other things to do, you are already late for class, and moreover this guy could have a gun... and then it is not the Zen thing to do, after all, he might be distraught because his child is sick, or he just learned his wife is having an affair (too bad, he is a moron anyway...)

So here actually,  Ego is not always the bad guy. It can be a good concept, a good trick contributing to the survival of this creature and to the harmony of society. Ego has - in theory - the power to chose between blind action only triggered by emotion ("emotion" from ex-motion : out of it comes motion - or action), or to consider the consequences of various possible actions in response to a situation and accordingly chose a wiser course of action...

Great danger comes when the ego is not even involved and action is carried out without any rationalization, just on a whim.

Actually, the ability to properly act under such condition was considered positive by samurai, and is very likely the goal of training of modern elite soldiers. This is what Heijoshin is about. Instinctively knowing what to do in any situation. (read the Hagakure) 

It is not, however, a simple thing to do. To get to that point request years of practice. Needless to say, I am not there yet. I wish I would not have these bouts of anger (rage?), and I am thankful I am able to control them.

I'll keep training. 

Long ago in Japan, a samurai, retainer from a clan well known for their fierce (cocky...) attitude, went to visit Zen Master Hakuin. The Samurai was a big, proud man, used to getting whatever he wanted.

"Hakuin!" shouted the Samurai at the temple door, "I want a word with you right now!"

Master Hakuin rose from his cushion. He took his sweet time to stretch his legs before turning toward his visitor. The large figure of the impatient Samurai blocked the temple entrance.

"Well, monk," grunted the samurai, " They say you are a wise man ! If that is so, tell me about Heaven and Hell!"

Hakuin looked carefully at the fierce-looking Samurai and finally replied, " Did you disrupt my meditation to ask something every fool knows about? You immature fool! What kind of a second class soldier are you ? Look at yourself !You are so unkempt. Your hands and feet are dirty. Your hair is uncombed, you stink, and above all your sword - did you steal it from a kid - is rusty and so obviously neglected that it would not even slice a cucumber ! You are ugly and your mother dresses you funny. And you dare ask me about Heaven and Hell? Leave this temple right now, and never come back again!"

The Samurai was furious! No one had ever dared to speak to him that rudely. In a flash he drew his sword and raised it high above his head. "You filthy monk will die for those words!" he roared.

Hakuin quietly looked up and told him: 

"THIS is what Hell feels like..."

The samurai instantly froze, his sword in mid-air, realizing that Hakuin had risked his own life to teach him. He lowered his sword and deeply bowed to Hakuin. 

"And THIS is what Heaven feels like..." said Hakuin...

Moderation in training

I am a firm believer in hard and serious training. I am also a believer in common sense. There seems to be a tendency in certain young people to train extremely hard to the point of ruining their health by negating the needs of their bodies. Although this seems to be more true for Japanese people, it is true of all ascetic practice. Even the historic Buddha experienced this denial of one's earthly nature and almost starved himself to death. The Chinese, possibly because of the influence of Taoism, seem to be less prone to this kind of exaggerations.

Toru Shirai was born in Edo in 1783. He was a renown Kenshi. He had opened a dojo at the age of 28 and taught around 300 students. But he worried about his own kendo. In the fencing world at the time, there were many fine kenshi. After the age of 40, however, they often became weaker or slower and became a mere shadow of their former selves. Not wanting this to happen to him , Shirai left his dojo and his 300 students, went back to his hometown of Edo (presently Tokyo), and sought out his Itto-ryu sempai Terada Goroemon.

Terada was also a Zen priest and Shirai practiced zazen under him. He also underwent Terada’s severe training methods. This included the practice of cold-water ablutions.

Okunojo Yoshida, a later student of Shirai, writes:

“Shirai Sensei abstained from liquor and meat, and poured a hundred, two hundred, even three hundred pails of water over himself a day. He dipped his pail so often that the water in the well he used would become stirred up and muddy, so he would go to the Sumida River to continue. He repeated this day after day for years—in the morning in the hottest weather, at dawn in the depths of winter, and even at inns during journeys to Bishu, Kyoto, and Setsu. On two occasions he fasted and performed his ablutions for seven days—once at Mt. Yuga in Biyo and once again at his home.”

Unfortunately, Shirai’s extraordinary dedication to Terada's ablution method did little or nothing for him. Actually it ruined his health and Shirai finally broke down.

Shirai writes in Heiho Michishirube, “My efforts were fruitless. Worse, they put me in such ill health that neither acupuncture nor medicines had any effect. Eventually my mother and other close relatives begged me to ‘cease those baneful ablutions.’ Unable to bear my mother’s lamentations, I was finally convinced to give up the practice.”

Compare this with Master Hakuin's passage in Yasenkana :

... I began devoting myself single-mindedly to my practice, forsaking food and sleep altogether. Before the month was out... I became abnormally weak and timid, shrinking and fearful in whatever I did. I felt totally drained, physically and mentally exhausted. Strange vision appeared to me during waking and sleeping hours alike. My armpits were always wet with perspiration. My eyes were watered constantly. I traveled far and wide, visiting wise Zen teachers, seeking out noted physicians. But none of the remedies they offered brought any relief.

Hakuin himself had fallen gravely hill from "meditation disease". No doctor was able to help him. In despair Hakuin had gone on a quest for a cure and had finally met Master Hakuyu, a mountain hermit, who had taught him an abdominal breathing Qi Gong that would finally cure him.

Giving up the ablution practice, Shirai began practicing Rentan no Ho: the same style of abdominal breathing practice described by Zen priest Hakuin in his work Yasenkanna. Not only did it restore his health, it also instilled in him the self-awareness and ability to take the first steps toward the establishment of his Tenshin Shirai-ryu.

In Heiho Michishirube, Shirai describes his cure. 

“At the age of thirty-three, on January 18, 1815, I abandoned cold-water ablutions once and for all and adopted the abdominal training method. I had previously read a number of the posthumous works of Hakuin and I had heard from my teacher Terada about the effectiveness of rentan no ho, but I had neglected it in favor of the more arduous practice of ablutions. Now I practice rentan no ho exclusively. I have rallied my spirit and, as Hakuin did, integrated rentan no ho into every part of my life and ways—into my prayers to Buddha, into my studies, into my swordsmanship. Within two short months of such practice I felt my health return as energy flowed into me and filled my abdomen (seika.) My illness has melted away and I feel myself as bouncy as a brand-new ball.”

What Shirai gained from his practice of Rentan no Ho allowed him to take some distance from the treachings of his teacher Terada and develop his own style Tenshin Heiho. In Heiho Michishirube Shirai writes : “the exclusive practice of Rentan no Ho advocated by Hakuin is quick and effective, while the method of ablution has little effect.”

Shirai had become utterly disgusted with cold-water ablutions as a means to enlightenment and it seems that in his later years he even told his pupils that “dousing oneself with cold water and fasting are poor ways to achieve Tenshin (understanding one’s own Buddha nature).”

Common Sense, the Middle way...

Naikan Tanden Seminar

On last Saturday October 16, I held our first seminar in our new Headland Dojo. The theme was Naikan Tanden.

I borrowed this term from Zen Master Hakuin, (1685–1768) who possibly borrowed it from older sources. One relatively accurate translation of it would be "Introspective Meditation at the Tanden"...

To tell a long story short we practiced a number of Qi Gong exercises centered on the Tanden, an area located slightly below the navel; and others designed to move energy around the body - limited to 3 points on the center line of the body (also known as Conception Vessel in Traditional Chinese Medicine). 

All these exercises were practiced using regular abdominal breathing.

In addition, we also practiced the mighty Reverse Abdominal Breathing.

Between each Qi Gong exercises we practiced Zazen (sitting meditation)for 10 minutes. 

The whole session lasted about 2 hours  after which we had a tea and a little discussion to evaluate the program and exercises.  This was not an easy class. I introduced lots of different and at times confusing exercises to my students. The Reverse abdominal Breathing is obviously not an easy thing to get into. 

I am very thankful for my students' input, their help and their patience.

From this first session I intend to build up more simple programs adapted to various audiences with different needs. (More later). 

In future articles I'll provide details about reverse abdominal breathing, as well as energy circulation in the body, and the importance of these practices for meditation and martial arts. 

Ken Zen Ichi Nyo

One difficulty for us Westerners who use an alphabetical system of transcription is that the a great number of Characters (Kanji) used in written Japanese sound the same. Hence the numerous misinterpretations and conflicts between self-appointed experts... I would like to address here the different forms of  "Ken Zen Ichi Nyo" often heard in Martial Art schools. 

  

剣 禅 一 如

The Sword and Zen are one.

Yagyu Munenori is credited with this formula in his work Heiho Kadensho. The meaning here is that the study of swordsmanship (Kendo or Kenjutsu) cannot be separated from the practice of Zen  meditation. In other words, do not even think you can become good at Swordsmanship if you don't Practice Zen. Munenori - a friend of Zen Master Takuan - considers that the practice Zen is a necessary condition to be successful in the practice of the arts of the Sword.

I have not found any indication that he would consider the other way around - that the practice of the sword could be a good way to improve one's Zen practice.

拳 禅 一 如

The Fist and Zen are one.

This formula is pronounced exactly in the same way as the previous one, however, here the Kanji 剣 (Sword), has been replaced y the Kanji  拳 (Fist). This formula is generally used in Karate Dojo.

A similar expression is “Ken Shin Ichi Nyo”.

剣 心 一 如

The Sword and Mind are one.

It is very close to Ken Zen Ichi Nyo (The Sword and Zen are one) because the Kanji 心 means Mind and Zen is interested in experiencing the universal mind. 

Why are the Chinese and Japanese using the same character for 2 concepts apparently so different as Mind and Heart ?

In fact, these concepts are not so different. Traditional Chinese Medicine considers the Heart as the seat of the Mind. And even in our Western languages, the word Heart refers not only to the blood pumping organ , but also as being involved with such mental activities as learning ( I learned it by heart), to emotions (My heart fills with joy), or will power (a strong-hearted person).

Numerous Martial Arts masters pointed out that the practice of Zen was beneficial to the practice of their Arts. 

There are fewer sources about the other way around :  how the practice of Martial Arts could be beneficial to the practice of Zen.

Therapeutic techniques such as the Naikan or Kikai Tanden described by Zen Master Hakuin are related to Qi Gong exercises (Some of them attributed to the first Chan Patriarch Bodhidharma.) developed around the 6th century in China. 

We are in good company...

The So Cream Method

A different translation of the "Soft Butter method" is given by Trevor Leggett in his book "Second zen reader".

This So Cream Method is a specific technique of Introspective Meditation. It was taught to Master Hakuin Ekaku (1685 - 1768)by Master Hakuyu - a Mountain dwelling Hermit Master Hakuin went to consult in search of a cure against Zen Sickness.

THE SO CREAM METHOD

I said : May I hear of the use of the So cream?

Hakuyu said : If the student finds in his meditation that the four great elements are out of harmony and body and mind are fatigued, he should rouse himself and make this meditation. Let him visualize placed on the crown of his head, that celestial So ointment, about as much as a duck's egg, pure in colour and fragrance.

Let him feel its exquisite essence and flavour, melting and filtering down through his head, its flow permeating downwards, slowly laving the shoulders and elbows, the sides of the breast and within the chest, the lungs, liver, stomach and internal organs, the back and spine and hip bones. 

All the old ailments and adhesions and pains in the five organs and six auxiliaries follow the mind downwards. There is a sound as of the trickling of water. Percolating through the whole body, the flow goes gently down the legs, stopping at the soles of the feet.

Then let him make this meditation: that the elixir, having permeated and filtered down through him, in abundance fills up the lower half of his body. It becomes warm, and he is saturated in it.

Just as a skillful physician collects herbs of rare fragrance and puts them in a pan to simmer, so the student finds that from the navel down he is simmering in the So elixir. 

When this meditation is being done, there will be psychological experiences, of a sudden indescribable fragrance at the nose-tip, of a gentle and exquisite sensation in the body. 

Mind and body become harmonized, and far surpass their condition at the peak of youth. Adhesions and obstructions are cleared away, the organs are tranquillized and insensibly the skin will begin to glow. 

If the practice is carried on without relapse, what illness will not be healed, what power will not be acquired, what perfection will not be attained, what Way will not be fulfilled? 

The arrival of the result depends only on how the student performs the practices. 

Mr Trevor Leggett was a 6th Dan (6th degree Black Belt) in Kodokan Judo. He also trained in Yoga and Zen and translated numerous Buddhist scriptures in English. 

 

The Sensei

Here is an interesting article by Harry Cook, a British Martial Artist, Teacher and Author.


The Sensei
by Harry Cook

---

The expression "first born" used by Shakespeare could be easily translated into Japanese by the word"'sensei," a word used by Japanese martial artists as a title for their teacher or master. The word sensei is composed of two characters-sen, meaning previous or before and sei, meaning birth or life. 

A sensei therefore is someone who has been "born before" you in the system you are studying and is therefore senior to you, or in Shakespearian terms your "better." This is not the same as the western idea of a coach. A sensei can actually do what he teaches, he or she embodies the art, while a coach can teach you how to do something without necessarily being able to perform the skill him or herself. 

Teachers are accorded tremendous respect in traditional oriental arts. They are seen as the only real way to progress as without their knowledge, guidance and experience the student would almost certainly make serious errors and so be unable to master his chosen subject. The respect shown to a teacher is referred to in the Chinese classic known as the Li Chi (Book of Rites) a work which deals with both the form and associated morality of correct behaviour. We are told that "When you are in company with your teacher, do not go aside of the road to speak to others. When you meet your teacher on the road, run forward, and stand properly to salute him by raising both hands grasped together. If the teacher speaks to you, answer him respectfully. If he does not speak, retire." 

In ancient China the relationship between a teacher and student was second only to that of the relationship between a child and parent. The teacher was seen to be the living source of knowledge and as such was to be obeyed, not opposed. Martial arts practice tends to follow this pattern, although it can cause severe problems for Westerners who may view authority as something to be challenged or brought into question. Traditionally the sensei was not expected to answer to his students for either his behaviour or his teaching methods. His role was to create situations so that the student learned by experience; he was not expected to explain the intricate details of every technique-training was a thing of the heart, not of the mind. 

The methods used to educate members of the samurai class were especially demanding, as the purpose was to inculcate not only knowledge but also dignity and strength of character. Thus teachers were accorded a high level of respect. 

Etsu Inagaki Sugimoto was born into a samurai family in the middle years of the nineteenth century in the province of Echigo. Because it was thought that she was destined to be a priestess she was given a thorough grounding in the Confucian classics, and although she was only six years old she obviously enjoyed her lessons. 

The discipline was strict, and the lessons were held along very formal lines. She explains that, "My priest-teacher taught these books with the same reverence that he taught his religion-that is, with all thoughts of worldly comfort put away. 

During my lesson he was obliged, despite his humble wish, to sit on the thick silk cushion the servant brought him, for cushions were our chairs, and the position of instructor was too greatly revered for him to be allowed to sit on a level with his pupil; but throughout my two-hour lesson he never moved the slightest fraction of an inch except with his hands and his lips. And I sat before him on the matting in an equally correct and unchanging position.

"Once I moved. It was in the midst of a lesson. For some reason I was restless and swayed my body slightly, allowing my folded knee to slip a trifle from the proper angle. The faintest shade of surprise crossed my instructor's face; then very quietly he closed his book, saying gently but with a stern air 'Little Miss, it is evident that your mental attitude to-day is not suited for study. You should retire to your room and meditate." 

Her father explained to his wife the need for such discipline by saying "We must not forget, Wife, the teaching of a samurai home. The lioness pushes her young over the cliff and watches it climb slowly back from the valley without one sign of pity, though her heart aches for the little creature. So only can it gain strength for its life work.

Eugen Herrigel was a German philosopher who studied Kyudo (archery) under the great master, Kenzo Awa in the 1930s. After a long time struggling with technique Herrigel found himself in a situation common to all martial artists who train long enough; his teacher was not satisfied with anything he did and he asked sensei Awa to tell him how to do the perfect shot.

"One day I asked the master: 'How can the shot be loosed if I do not do it?'
'It shoots,' he replied.
'I have heard you say that several times before, so let me put it another way: How can I wait self-obliviously for the shot if I am no longer there?'
'It waits at the highest tension.'
'And who or what is this It?'
'Once you have understood that, you will have no further need of me. And if I tried to give you a clue at the cost of your own experience, I should be the worst of teachers and should deserve to be sacked! So let's stop talking about it and go on practising."

Fundamentally this is the function of a sensei : to create situations where the student arrives at understanding through his own experience. The sensei's role is therefore vital and transcends the teaching of mere technique, which is actually the province of the coach. Mastery in the real sense goes beyond technique and in the martial arts involves a struggle with the ego. Karlfried Graf Von Durckheim explains "However well-performed an action may be, however well controlled a technique, as long as the man using it is subject to moods and atmosphere, unrelaxed and easily disturbed for example when he is being watched, then he is a master only in a very limited degree. He is master only of technique and not of himself. He controls the skill he has but not what he is in himself.

To achieve this state the guidance of a sensei is vital, and once the student selects his teacher it is necessary for him or her to accept that the teacher does know what he or she is doing and also to understand that what really matters is practice, not talking, and that some of the most important lessons, especially in the martial arts, cannot be taught via the spoken word. 

One problem which constantly crops us is that often students have an idealized image of a sensei and when the reality does not match the myth the teacher becomes subjected to a great deal of criticism or abuse

Janwillem van de Wetering, a Dutch student of Zen warns "In these esoteric disciplines it is very dangerous to identify with another person, because if the other does anything which, in the eyes of the imitator, cannot be accepted or justified, the example comes tumbling down and breaks into a thousand pieces; and with the example, the image, the god, the whole discipline, breaks and appears senseless.

Zen master Hakuin was famous for living a simple and pure life. In the village where he lived a young girl became pregnant and, under pressure, she named Hakuin as the father. Very angry, the parents confronted Hakuin who simply said "Is that so?"

After the child was born it was brought to Hakuin who reared the child with great care. His reputation was in tatters but he bore all the criticisms and spiteful comments peacefully. After some time the mother told the truth to her parents and gave the name of the real father. Instantly the family went to Hakuin to apologize and to take the child back. All Hakuin said was, "Is that so?"

Hakuin was indeed a master of himself: ego, reputation, fame etc. were recognized for what they truly are: ephemeral, leaves on the wind. In the martial arts we often pay lip service to this ideal but what really seems to be important now is in fact the exact opposite: reputation, ego, and wealth. 

A difficulty when trying to find a genuine sensei is to keep a realistic and clear view of some of the individuals who pass themselves off as "sensei." When the martial arts came to the West after the Second World War there was a tremendous demand created for instructors. Allied to this was a growth of interest in oriental and other mystical systems of thought, and so the market for fighting systems with associated spiritual overtones was huge. 

When the television series Kung Fu was aired in the 1970s this market was fuelled by the antics of an imaginary half-Chinese Shaolin monk who rambled about the American West performing good deeds, somewhat in the manner of a peripatetic social worker. The success of this programme and similar fantasies such as the books by Carlos Castaneda all contributed to the popular image of a martial arts sensei: a cross between a Buddhist monk, a deadly fighter with super-normal powers, and a psychologist of profound understanding. Dr. Glen Barclay, Reader in History at the University of Queensland, actually stated that the martial arts are occult activities.

The effect of all this was to exacerbate an already confused situation. It is difficult enough to understand the martial arts, given the values and beliefs of an oriental culture, but when a sensei also has to be superhuman, then great problems arise, and some students, well meaning no doubt, projected their beliefs onto otherwise perfectly normal instructors. 

This process was given a tremendous impetus when Secret Fighting Arts of the World by "John F. Gilbey" was published. "Gilbey's" tongue-in-cheek account of secret fighting methods employed by superhuman practitioners is a most enjoyable read, but unfortunately many readers took it as a serious account of the martial arts, so adding to the myths already readily accepted as the truth. I remember being told in 1971 that Shotokan karate master, Kanazawa sensei had a sword that would fly out of its sheath to protect him if he was threatened, and that aikido founder Ueshiba sensei could literally step outside of time and dematerialize his body for seconds at a time to avoid an attack. 

Given this urge to trivialize the martial arts to the level of a comic, it is not surprising that various individuals emerged to provide the kind of "sensei" that some people were seeking. In Britain one individual claimed to teach an ancient system of Chinese-Okinawan karate and to be an ordained Zen or Shingon monk as well as having expertise in all kinds of oriental occult subjects. In his writings he refers to being a reincarnated karate master with access to lost or secret books-all in all a tale from Shangri-la! The sad thing is that many people were taken in by this, and some of them still feel very bitter over the fact they were duped. 

This is the problem : once a student gives his, or her loyalty to an instructor it may become blind obedience and belief. A fraudulent or unscrupulous instructor can manipulate this for his own ends, financial or otherwise.

Of course you must believe in your sensei, but at the same time you must never surrender the right to think for yourself. Western society stresses the rights of the individual and all karate students and instructors must be aware of that fact. The student should also remember that the teacher has rights and may choose not to live his life according to the student's expectations of how things should be. 

 

In closing, I would like to repeat the advice given in The Hundred Verses of the Spear: "If you feel that the teacher is a real teacher then give up your own ideas and learn." 

The full article and references can be read in the Dragon Times.

Samurai song

Zen Master HAKUIN (1686 - 1769) one day brushed the Chinese Character "DEATH" on a scroll, and under it wrote a poem :

O young people, if death is hateful, die now !
Dying this once, you will never die again.

The sorrow and bitterness of this world will become happiness.

You are called samurai.
Should you not be ready to die ?

Despite brave words the samurai who has not died this once,

When the crisis come will flee away or hide.

The feudal lord gives you silk clothes and white rice
So that he can rely on you in that hour.

Even a blade by a master swordsmith, if the samurai does not realize he has it,
Is of as little use as if girded on a midwife.

He who has once died in the depth of the navel -
The spear of the master spearman cannot touch him.
He who dying while yet alive carries out his duties -
The arrow of the master archer is nothing to him.

The samurai who has passed away deep in the navel circle
Finds no enemy in all the world.
Throw away all, die and see -
The god of death and his demons stand bewildered.
In the field of the elixir at the navel, meditate on the Lord of the mind and see -
At once all is perfection, living paradise.

Though one know how to rest firm in virtue,

If he cannot meditate, he has not yet attained.
Meditation is the inmost secret of the knightly way;
While yet you live, practice meditation.

Do not meditate only hidden in a dark corner,
But meditate always, standing, sitting, moving and resting.

When your meditation continues throughout waking and sleeping,

Wherever you are is heaven itself.

After practicing thirty or forty years

We can know that we have meditated a little.

Though one boast : "I have died," if he shows selfishness he is yet unenlightened;
Loyalty to superiors, love and reverence to parents.

Though one boast : "I am enlightened," if he is heartless to living beings,
He falls to the demon world - so says the holly word of Kasuga.

HAGAKURE is a practical and spiritual guide for the Samurai warrior, compiled from 1709 to 1716 from a collection of commentaries by Yamamoto Tsunetomo, former retainer to Nabeshima Mitsushige.

The Way of the Samurai is found in death. When it comes to either/or, there is only the quick choice of death. It is not particularly difficult.

Both texts date from the beginning of the 18th century. In 1600, Ieyasu Tokugawa had ended at the battle of Sekigahara the terrible civil wars which had plagued Japan during the 16th century. the 17th century had been a period peace of great prosperity for the Japanese civil society, Samurais did not have much opportunity to die in combat anymore and Tsunetomo's longing for actual death had become somewhat anachronistic, while Hakuin calls for a death - deep in the navel circle (the Tanden) - to the worries and fears of this world of dust.

Both texts have been used in a morbid interpretation of the Bushido Code, specially during World War II, to justify, among other terrible things, the "sacrifice" of young soldiers we would today label as terrorists (What is a Kamikaze pilot if not a suicide bomber ?)

In all religions or philosophies, sad and bad things happen when people take literally the teachings of the founders. Zen and Bushido surely are no ways of death. The death we should aim at is not our biological death - this one will come on its time, no need to rush it - but a death to the worries attached to our rooting in this world of dust.

Budo (Martial ways) are not about becoming a better fighter but a better human being. They are about dying to ourselves. I know, this has been written, said and heard times and times. Nothing original here. But the main point is for each one of us to actually realize it.

There is only one way... TRAIN.

Wide is the Heaven of Boundless Samadhi,

Wide is the heaven of Boundless Samadhi, Radiant the full moon of the fourfold wisdom.

These two lines taken from The song of Meditation by Hakuin, express enlightenment and the perfection of the fourfold vision.

The word "Samadhi" is Sanskrit, and can be translated as "Right thought" or also "Evenness".
The meaning being a state where the mond is one and undisturbed, with no distracting thought.

The Samadhi of Repose we reach through sitting in Zazen.

Then we also have the Samadhi of Action.


There are times when you practice a Kata - a FORM - and reach that state where your mind and body are totally immersed. I do not perform the form, the form flows through me At that time, there is no me, there is no form, IT is just happening.

What is this IT that is happening ? The only thing I can say is that as soon as I am conscious and aware of IT, IT is gone. There is subject and object again, and IT is lost.

How do we get there ? Practice, practice, practice.

Once the form is known through your body and does not require any thought, it begins flowing through you. This is when your mind start playing tricks on you. You perform the form alright, but thoughts arise about anything, bills to pay, things to say...

Here are here a few tricks : Focus on your breath - Kokyu. In the case of the Short Tai Chi Form, which was designed with emphasis on breathing, make sure you breath In when your feet come together, Out when they get apart.


And focus on your feet. Put your weight on the front of the feet. Ideally the weight should be over K1, the 1st acupuncture point of the Kidney meridian, located on the sole of the foot, approximately one inch behind the joint between the 2nd and 3rd toes. You need to walk with little weight on your heels, as if one could slide a sheet of cigarette paper between the floor and your heel. Actually, your heel can be on the floor, but very little pressure should be on your heel bone. In order to do so, you will have to slightly bend your knees, and grab the floor with your toes.

It sounds easy to do, it is not. Just try it ! It is worth it. When it happens, you will always remember.