Ego and Banpen Fugyo

This marks the 3rd week I've had to sit out from training because of a foot injury. When I realized I would have to take it easy and forego the physical side of training, I knew it would be a test of my patience. It wasn't too bad at first, but I've found myself progressively more annoyed with the situation. So, naturally, I thought about why I was losing my patience. I hope that my musings on the matter will help others who are facing unexpected changes to see things from another angle.

Sitting out with an injury is the most irritating roadblock I've encountered so far in training. The injury somewhat hinders my daily activities, but it makes training just about impossible if I want to recover ASAP. Still, I go to training anyway and take notes on what I observe. It's not as exciting, but I do learn. From my vantage point, I'm better able to spot common errors, which I can then watch for in myself and others I'm helping. The perspective also allows me to see facets I'd forgotten or missed, which in turn yield questions I can study later (or ask my friends to go through the scenario while I observe).

Yet even though I'm still training mentally and still learning, it's difficult to muster up the patience to continue coming to a class I can't participate in the way I want.

When I tried to pinpoint why I was so annoyed with the situation, and I came to a familiar conclusion: ego. People are annoying when they disrupt some aspect of my personal world. Situations are annoying when they interrupt my world pattern. So, from what I can see, annoyance comes from believing that the situation should be other than what it is to suit my desires. If my world structure wasn't built on my desires, then I wouldn't be so flustered when things don't go the way I want or how I think they should.

Not being tied down to what I think my world should be, I'd be better able to flow with what comes. I've been trying to apply that feeling of adaptability to my role as a student right now, but the application possibilities don't end there. It applies to everything, when you think about it (and I do encourage you to think about it).

For now, my training is both mental and spiritual. Mental because of the attention and discipline required to observe and take notes, spiritual because I'm being pushed to let go of my ego and accept what is. If I had my druthers, I would be fully healed and back to physical training and other physical activity. But since life didn't ask for my opinion, I would only be holding myself back by allowing myself to be annoyed by what is not. Fixating on what I wish was the case does not help me open my eyes to the other ways I can be useful to my fellow students, aside from the uke/tori partnership.

To me, the phrase "banpen fugyo" communicates that there are more changes than you can keep up with or prepare for, so just accept what comes. In the words of the philosopher Parmenides, "What is is. What is not is not." This injury is pushing me to let go of my ego, accept what is, and to act according to that instead of what I wish was so. I hope that perspective helps someone who reads this, or at least provides something to think about.

Onegaishimasu.

Rank and the Heart

Visibility is a key factor in how others see us and how we see ourselves. The visible signs of rank are as much so others can show proper respect as they are tests of the individual's heart.

The belt system's simplicity makes it much harder to judge someone by the belt color they wear, which I love. Only by training with someone can you determine how skilled he is. Still, there are certain expectations that come with wearing any of the belt colors, both from others and from ourselves.

The patches are more visible markers of general rank within the dan levels. Because they're such visible signs for those who choose to wear them, they can be more intense tests of one's heart. If you're wearing the Shihan patch, it might be tempting to see yourself as above or better than others wearing the Dan patch or even the Shidoshi patch. But that's not always the case; there are plenty of proud Shihan whose skills are nothing to marvel at, and they simply have enough money to keep going to Japan for promotions. Their focus is on themselves and feeding their ego, not keeping the heart and humility of a student.

On the other hand, the patches are harmless to the person who is honest with himself about his skill. I'm willing to bet that people with that honest mindset would stand out more for their attitude than for their rank. People want to learn from people who admit they're still learning.

Also, thinking on what the original purpose of the patches might have been, they help others see who to address with which honorific. A Shihan wearing his patch may not care if you call him Steve or Shihan Steve, but practicing proper etiquette and showing respect is important at every level. It's like calling someone "Dr. Smith" and "sir" until they say you can just call them John. They worked long and hard for that "Dr." before their name; they deserve the respect and recognition of the title.

Ultimately, it's the responsibility of the individual to have a good attitude and a sincere heart. We each have to strike that balance between humility and self-worth, not undermining our accomplishments or boasting about them. Rank and visible indicators of your level test your heart. The proud heart will be tempted to boast about the promotion and make much of himself. Similarly, the self-degrading heart will make much of not deserving the promotion, boasting in his unworthiness. The honest heart, however, recognizes that he has much to learn; the promotion is a goad to push him to keep refining his base and to keep learning. He does not fight the promotion, nor does he fully embrace it. It is what it is and he keeps training hard and with sincerity.

Not long ago, I heard a Shihan talking about Soke's movement, and how you need to be at a certain skill level just to see how good he is at what he does. Not even the Shitenno fully understand what Soke does, and Soke himself is still learning. If the men at the head of the Bujinkan still call themselves students and still pursue a deeper understanding, how much more should we press forward with humility and determination?

Gambatte, my friends.

Schedule Change

There is a post in progress, but it won't go up until tomorrow. For the past couple weeks I've been thinking that Thursdays would be a better fit for my schedule, so I'm going to try that instead of Wednesdays.

Thanks for your patience!

--Kaitlin

Variety

I recently read a blog post from Shihan Doug Wilson that, overall, was pretty confusing to me, but brought up a point I'd like to expound upon. I encourage you to go read it if you haven't already, but here's the segment that stuck out to me:

[T]he Bujinkan should not be considered the ultimate martial art, as it is the mindset wherein the value exists. Over the course of history, all cultures and countries posses their own fighting styles.  The fighting style is not the point of strength, but the mindset in how one fights or controls is where the true strength lies.  ...[T]he Bujinkan style should not be considered superior, but the mindset combined with the freedom of correct movement is superior.

It's tempting to get caught up in all the incredible things this art does and teaches, and develop a superiority complex. "Look at [insert other art here], they're so inefficient," or "None of those guys would last in a real fight." Maybe they wouldn't last in a real fight - there's no guarantee you would, either - but that doesn't detract from the value of the art they're learning. Everything has something to offer, something you can learn from.

There's a popular animated series Nickelodeon put out a few years ago called Avatar: The Last Airbender. It's an incredible show, both entertaining and thought-provoking; if you haven't seen it, all 3 seasons are streaming on Netflix. Anyway, there are 4 main types of element bending/manipulation in the series: water, earth, fire, and air. Each style of bending is unique, and each has its strengths and weaknesses (reflecting the balance of the 4 elements). Being able to learn from each bending style helps to round out your own skills and broadens your understanding of how everything works together. (One example from the show is a firebender using principles from water bending to accomplish something fire bending can't do on its own.)

I'm not sure what mindset Shihan Wilson is referring to that is superior when "combined with the freedom of correct movement." I do know that there are many different ways to approach the same goal: defense of self and others. As long as that is the goal set in your mind, and it is born out of respect and love, any method of movement can help you achieve it. Some arts help more than others, in my biased opinion, but with the right heart you can learn something important from any art, even if it's as simple as "don't do it that way." The same goes for individual instructors within this art. Some are very clearly better than others, but you can learn something from everyone who gets up to teach.

With an open mind, a sincere heart, and set goals, you broaden your learning base and benefit from the wisdom (and folly) of countless teachers and traditions.

Unity in Plurality

Before I begin the actual post, I'd like to apologize for not posting anything last week. It was a hectic day and I had nothing of significant value to say, so I just let it slide. I should have communicated that to my readers and failed to do so. That being said, even though there are plenty of things to talk about inside this art, sometimes I just won't have anything to say. During those times, I'd rather stay silent than waste your time with B.S. (which I can conjure up all too easily). In the future, I'll make sure to let you know when there'll be silence instead of a real post.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"There's no one right way to do it..." You know how to finish that. There's no one right way to do a technique, but lots of wrong ways. This can be liberating and frustrating at the same time. On the one hand, you're free to play with the movement and not be pinned down to one particular manifestation. On the other hand, it's hard to tell whether you're executing the movement properly, without it becoming confused with some other movement.

This is one of the "Big Questions" philosophy addresses: the One and the Many. We crave unity and absolutes, but we are instead presented with a vast multiplicity of things that are lumped under one label (e.g., hundreds of species of trees all called "tree"). The two extremes on the continuum of answers to this question are Absolutism and Relativism. And, as with most things, truth resides somewhere in the middle. Which means there's no one omote gyaku, but it's not whatever you want, either.

The liberating aspect to plurality is that I don't have to always do ganseki nage like the traditional form. It's adjustable for size, position, etc. It's not always on the same scale - it can be big or small - and it's not always attacking the same point. It's pretty awesome really, that just one technique can have so many different facets.

At the same time, all those facets can be a little confusing. If this over here, which looks a lot like that over there, is actually ganseki nage, then why do they look so similar? Why can't THIS be ganseki nage and THAT be [insert technique here]? It's easy to get confused, or to think you're on the right track when actually you're missing a key point. It would be easier if there was one clear way to do it - none of the hidden stuff.

But, if it were straightforward, that would be way too boring, and this would no longer be an art form.

Maybe the mental image of facets is a good one for what I'm trying to get at. A multifaceted diamond can have an incredible amount of sides to it, each of them casting different reflections depending on the light. But even for all the variability, the thing itself is still a diamond. The trick is to not let yourself be blinded by the light reflecting off the facets. There is one thing that reflects the light in many ways - if you study how the light is reflected, you'll be able to discern what's a reflection and what might be the diamond itself.

There's a million different directions that analogy could go. (Can you ever see the diamond itself without the distracting reflections? Can you only see it as a composite of all the facets? Can you ever know how many facets there are, turn it around in enough light settings to truly know the reflections? etc.) But, since this topic has clearly - in my mind - come back around to kaname, I guess the argument would be that the diamond/technique itself is knowable. At this point, I'd say it's knowable only after you have a thorough understanding of the facets. That way you can find the commonalities leftover from the differences.

It's a fun little thought experiment, though, using the diamond as an analogy; you may see it pop up again in future posts. For now, I think I've made my convoluted point as convolutedly clear as I can. Until next time.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

General Note: Everything anyone says should be taken with a grain of salt, especially me; I'm still learning, and I could be completely wrong in my interpretation of something. If you think that's the case, please say something. And if you think something's just bull, you can call me out on that, too.