ZEN AND NOW

 by Phillip Starr

A great many modern martial artists, particularly those who are engaged in the practce of a Japanese martial forms such as karate, kendo, jujutsu, and a host of others, like to think of the swordsmen of old Japan sitting in meditation and being avid practitioners of zen. However, the truth is that the samurai were never, in large numbers, ardent followers of zen... and the connection between zen and the Japanese martial arts is, in truth, not much older than rock 'n roll.

Buddhism was introduced to China in the late 12^th century. While some of the earlier forms of it appealed to the aristocracy of Japan, others became more popular with the commoners. Zen was a monastic approach, centered in Kyoto and Kamakura, where the Shogun stayed. Because of his patronage, numerous temples were constructed and zen eventually prospered. The laity were generally better educated than most; they often served as advisors to the Shogun and leaders of the warrior class. For this reason, numerous historians have assumed that the samurai were attracted to zen and that when many samurai retired, they entered the priesthood. They have also surmised that because zen stresses self-discipline and a rather austere lifestyle (qualities also admired by the samurai), the professional warriors were devoted practitioners of zen. However, this is demonstrably incorrect, if you look at the circumstances of living in feudal Japan...

The rise of Japan's warrior class was marked by war; from the 10^th to the 17^th centuries, Japan was pretty much in a constant state of war. Professional warriors of the day lived knowing that they could well meet their demise in the next battle or even in the next hour. They simply didn't have the time to spend years sitting in meditation (which is what zen requires) to develop a spirit to deal with that. It wasn't a practical approach for the guys who wanted to see through the illusions of life right NOW. Certainly, they respected zen and often relied on its priesthood for education or advice but in their letters, scrolls, and densho (transmission scrolls of various martial arts schools), there are very few references to zen made by the warrior class.

So, in what form of spiritual or religious training did the samurai engage? To a large degree, the answer is “mikkyo.” Most of you are likely unfamiliar with it. Well, zen is an exoteric form of Buddhism, The same is true for most other sects such as Jodo and Shinshu. They don't necessarily involve any esoteric, arcane teachings that are imparted to their followers; their teachings are openly transmitted to anyone wishing to follow them This is true of almost all forms of Buddhism. One exception is mikkyo (aka., Shingon), which is probably the only esoteric form of Buddhism that has deep roots in Japan.

Mikkyo's approach (in a nutshell) to the problem of dealing with illusions of life is through various psychological and neurological exercises, many of which are thought to invoke supernatural powers. The mikkyo practitioner may utilize artistic designs (mandalas), various chants, or physical movements. The best known of these is “kuji-kiri” (meaning “finger cutting” or “finger weaving”) wherein various powers are thought to be invoked through the weaving of one's fingers together. In a rather crude way, they can be thought of as “spells.” On a more sophisticated level, they are rituals designed to instill great courage and confidence, and presence of mind when danger threatens. It's easy to see why the samurai would embrace this method; it can be done in a short time (unlike zen) and was immediately available.

So, why is it that so many of us believe that the traditional martial arts were closely connected to zen? Well, Yagyu Munenori (1571-1646), who was the second headmaster of the Yagyu Shinkage-ryu school of swordsmanship, was a friend and disciple of the well-known Buddhist priest, Takuan Soho. Takuan wrote several letters to Yagyu, using the analogy of martial strategy and swordsmanship to explain zen. So, did the famous “sword saint”, Miyamoto Musashi ever meet Takuan? Yes...in a fictional serialized novel that was finally made into a movie. In reality, the two probably never met.

Because of Yagyu's relationship with the Shogun, Takuan's letters to Munenori were quite influential and read by many daimyo (feudal lords). However, almost none of them actually practiced zen. After WWII, zen was introduced to the West in a big way and the supposed connection between Japan's martial arts and zen were further cemented in the public's imagination. The famous scholar, Daisetsu Suzuki (who had never practiced martial arts) wrote his very successful “Zen and Japanese Culture”, which devoted two long chapters to zen and swordsmanship.

Eugene Herrigel, a German who had briefly studied kyudo in Japan in the 1930's penned his successful book, “Zen and the Art of Archery.” Both Herrigel's and Suzuki's books used the medium of zen to try to explain the budo. All that has been written since then (on the zen-martial arts connection) is based upon these two books and/or Takuan's writings.

Of course, if a modern follower of the budo wishes to link his art to the practice of zen, that's fine. But it's good to know the historicity of it so that one can maintain the true, original spirit of these arts. Now you know the rest of the story-

WHAT IS IT TRYING TO TEACH YOU?

 By Phillip Starr

Select any given form and ask yourself, What is it trying to teach me? What particular skill(s) is it trying to develop within me?” It's so much more than a conglomeration of punches, kicks, turns, and so forth. Much more. Each form (or, in the case of system such as taijiquan, each section of the lengthy form) is intended to teach you at least one, and sometimes two or three, very valuable things. To find out what the intended lesson is, you must search diligently...

One easy way to determine (at least a partial) answer is to count the number of techniques and/or movement that are repeated. Which one(s) are performed with the greatest frequency? Be sure to count defensive as well as offensive movements (although oftentimes, what appears to be a defensive movement – such as a particular block – is actually an offensive movement or both defensive and offensive).

How about the footwork/body movement(s) that appear in your form; that is, is there a lot of advancing movements? How about withdrawing movements (stepping backwards) or angular stepping? Which one seems to be emphasized more than the others? Do the forward movements tend to emphasize striking with the forward hand/arm or the rear one?

What stances appear with the greatest frequency? Does the form emphasize striking multiple times when a movement is made, or does it seem to emphasize striking just once? These are all very important factors to determine; the form's creator intended for students of future generations to learn certain things, certain aspects of his art through the practice of each form. It's helpful to determine just what those are.

TO LEARN, YOU MUST BE OUT OF YOUR MIND!

 By Phillip “Pete” Starr

My friend, Sensei Akira Hino, has written and spoken about understanding what he calls “the incapable self” and “overcoming consciousness”, particularly as they pertain to learning new skills. This is my take on it...

When undertaking the development of a new skill, there are two fundamental attitudes one can adopt; the “I can do this” position, or the “I can't do this” position. Many contemporary teaching theories insist that we must adopt the former but this is actually an error (especially when trying to learn a fine skill) because it sets us up for failure. You may say that you can do it but of course, in reality, you can't. You fail and this results in frustration, disappointment, and discouragement. It causes stress to appear as you continually strive to do what you believe you can do (but you can't).

On the other hand, if you begin with the awareness that you're not capable of doing it, then initial failure(s) is expected. There's no frustration. You can continue to pursue your goal (and, although you may be unaware of it, taking “baby steps” forward).

I experienced this (and still do) when I formally took up the practice of iaido (drawing and cutting with the Japanese sword). I darned well KNEW that I was starting out as wholly incapable! Everything (and I mean EVERYTHING) I did was wrong...but I expected that, so I wasn't discouraged at all when my teacher kept making corrections (and most, if not all, of them many more times than once). I strived (and still do) to imitate him. I started out as a blank slate.

I began with no expectations of being able to do it and with full understanding that it was going to take a lot of time...sometimes I thought I was doing it right and (to me) it felt like it, but I was wrong. I felt like I could do it, but I couldn't.

Many people compare what they don't know or can't do with what they already know or can do. Thus, their understanding is in direct proportion to the amount of their knowledge (which may be flawed) and the level of their thinking. They tend to interpret new knowledge via their current knowledge and thinking habits. This prevents real development. It's well not to compare what you're trying to learn with what you already know.

I ran up against this problem when I began training under Master Chen. I had trained previously in a bit of northern shaolinquan and kyokushin karate. When he began teaching me xingyiquan, I automatically based what he was teaching me on what I already knew. And he would correct me by bellowing, “No! Not a karate punch!” Then he would demonstrate the xingyi method again. And again, and again...until I'd discarded the notion that I already knew how to punch and listened to him carefully. I had to become a blank slate upon which he could draw and write. There was no room for my own words or drawings.

I've encountered this problem countless times over the decades that I have taught. People came to me to study gong-fu or taijiquan and they often already had backgrounds in various forms of karate or taekwondo. They would inadvertently compare what they already knew with what I was trying to teach them (which, of course, they didn't know). They often THOUGHT they understood and could properly perform a given movement based on what they already knew. This only led to a lot of confusion and frustration for them (and me) because their movements were completely wrong. Some felt that because they held such-and-such grade of black belt, they could learn something like taijiquan rather quickly. Not so. Not at all. In fact, that kind of attitude held them back longer than if they'd never had any previous martial arts experience!

I had the same experience when I took up the study of taijiquan and baguazhang. I incorrectly ASSUMED bagua would, in some ways, be similar to xingyi. Not. That's like comparing apples to bicycles. So I had to become a totally blank slate again. Later I encountered taijiquan. Same thing. Certain principles were the same, but the ways of moving weren't similar at all. Xingyi was closer to shaolinquan in appearance – kind of like comparing apples and oranges; they both grow on trees and they're both fruits. But that's it.

Never being known as a quick study, I finally determined that I had to start from scratch with each of them. I became accustomed to living as a blank slate. But I learned and one of the most valuable lessons was that I must not compare what I already knew with what I was trying to learn. Even now – not being one to learn lessons quickly – I have to be careful not to bring my old knowledge to iaido practice. For instance, iaido doesn't use any of the stances found in karate or gong-fu but I tend to use them anyway. At the time of this writing, I'm still trying to correct that...

TIDINESS

 by Phillip “Pete” Starr

After you wake up each morning, when do you make your bed? Do you shave every day? Where is your training uniform; is it on a hanger, neatly folded and inside your equipment bag, or is kind of wadded up somewhere? Some of you probably wonder what difference does any of this make? Where am I going with it?

It has to do with self-respect, self-image, and discipline. Typically, I make my bed within an hour of getting up. It has to be made just so. Simply tossing the blanket over it isn't enough. It's a discipline that I follow every day. Simple though it may be, it sets the tone for the rest of my day as far as self-discipline goes. If I don't do it because it's too much bother or because I just don't care (after all, nobody is likely to see it; I very rarely have company), what does that tell me about myself? I'm not concerned with what other people think; I'm concerned with what I think and how I see myself...

I do my best to maintain a daily routine that includes making my bed, shaving, and so forth. It doesn't matter if it's a holiday or whatever, the routine remains the same. I want to make myself presentable to people not only to be respectful of them, but also to be respectful of myself. If I allow myself to look like (or behave like) a lazy slob, how does that impact my self-image? How do I really see myself?

Gichin Funakoshi wouldn't leave the house until he had shaved, combed his hair (I don't have that problem), and dressed appropriately. In the West (particularly in America), we have become very lax about such things and it is my opinion that this neglectfulness has contributed greatly to the deterioration of our society. I remember the dress code we were required to follow in school; no jeans, shirts had to have a collar (no sweatshirts or tee-shirts), leather shoes, a leather belt, boy's hair could not be long enough to touch their ears, no mini-skirts for the girls, no heels...and so on. Of course, as youngsters (being rather rebellious as all youngsters tend to be) we all hated this stuff. Now I realize that a big part of it involved how we viewed ourselves; if we looked like slobs, we'd act and think in the same way. Eventually of course, such dress codes became very lax or vanished altogether and the results speak for themselves.

In my martial arts school, if a student showed up in a uniform that looked like he'd slept in it for a week, he'd be told to go home and come back when his uniform was clean and neat. Those who purchased various weapons (swords, staffs, and spears) with which to practice were required to ensure that the weapon(s) were maintained in proper condition at all times.

Remember that how you see yourself (which is reflected by how you look and the discipline that you cultivate) determines how you will act and even think. Ponder this...

THROUGH WESTERN EYES

 by Phillip Starr

I've been involved in the practice of martial arts for more than 60 years and one of my most important observations has been that we (Westerners) tend to look at the Eastern martial disciplines that we practice through our Western eyes. This had led to a great deal of misunderstanding and confusion regarding these arts – why they are practiced in the manner that they are practiced, why they're practiced at all, the adherence to tradition, and so on. To truly grasp the spirit of the subject, we must see them through EASTERN eyes...

To do this isn't easy. We must understand the culture from which our chosen arts were born and to do that, we must understand how those cultures SEE and THINK. As Westerners, we often like to think that we've got a handle on the martial arts that we practice/teach, that we can actually change and/or improve them in various ways, and that we really don't need certain parts of them (whether it be certain training exercises, traditions, or whatever). We approach the arts with a Western mindset and subsequently practice and teach them from that standpoint. It is my opinion, for whatever it's worth, that we lose much of what these arts have to offer by doing so.

Learning something of the language of the culture from which our arts originated is an important key to understanding the culture and it's martial ways. I'm not saying that it's necessary to become fluent in the language, but learning enough that you can carry on a very basic dialogue is most helpful; you have to learn more than just the terms for certain techniques or forms. Learning some of the spoken language will help you understand the culture as a whole, and that's what you're after...

For decades I thought that I had a pretty fair understanding of Chinese culture and although I knew “martial arts” terms in their native language, I had no grasp of the spoken tongue. I thought I understood the culture and I was very much mistaken...I was one of the first Americans to visit China many moons ago and I returned home, thinking that I understood much of the culture.

Not.

It wasn't until I actually lived in China for several years that I realized my mistake. I lived amongst the people and worked alongside them. I learned to speak the language (although not fluently) and I became immersed in their culture. I have heard many Westerners ask, “WHY do they (the Chinese, Japanese, Koreans, or whatever) DO that (whatever “that” may be)?” And I realized that Westerners, be they ordinary folks, tourists, businessmen, or politicians, wonder about these things because they're looking at the given subject THROUGH WESTERN EYES. And doing that prevents them from understanding the answers to their question(s).

Samuel Ichiye Hayakawa (1906-1992), a Canadian-born scholar of Japanese descent (he became President (emeritus) of San Francisco State College and eventually a U.S. Senator, was a strong advocate of the study of language. He made a statement in his book, “Language in Thought and Action” that stuck in my mind ever since one of my uncles presented me with a copy of the book. Hayakawa said, that we are limited in our thinking (and subsequent actions) by our language. He was of the opinion that learning more than one language was almost a necessity in our modern world. I agree with him.

Hayakawa's statement indicates that we can only see, think, and understand things according (to the limitations of) our language. This applies especially to the practice of martial arts. To understand a given art or culture, learning something of the language is essential.

Traveling to or living for a time in the country from which a given martial discipline originated is impractical for many people but there are other ways to learn about and gradually understand a given culture.