From Perspective to Clarity

This last winter in Chicago we were introduced to a new phrase, at least for me, that of “Polar Vortex.” It’s a truly horrid experience in which you get to learn first hand just how cold minus 35 degrees (f) is.  One day I awoke in a foul mood looking forward to another day of freezing.  Grumbling the whole way, I stopped at my local coffee shop as is my custom on the way to work and was only thinking about myself, my own troubles, and woe is me.  A few parking spaces away, a woman and her child got out of their car about the same time I exited my own.  The child, a girl of about 10, stood up and raised her head to the sun and let loose a smile from ear to ear.  The thing that made my breath catch in my throat was that when she raised her head, her cap fell off and revealed a bald head and nearly translucent skin.  As I watched, the little girl continued her smile while dancing around her mother on the way into the store oblivious to the cold; just happy to be able to dance in the sunshine.  It took me a few moments to collect myself and dry my eyes from the reminder that my problems aren’t that bad.  I’ve thought about that little girl a few times since then too but not so much as in the last few weeks.  The reason is kind of simple; I just had brain surgery three days ago and was released from the hospital today.  It started, or at least seemed, innocuously and discovered almost by accident.   Looking back, perhaps a good deal of what I had put down to as old injuries, aches and pains may not have been that at all but instead a tumor growing in my head; the doctor says probably not but we will never know.  The only thing I do know is that now I’m waiting for biopsy results and looking up terms like Gilomas and levels I-IV tumor classifications. The strange thing is that, when I got the news, my emotional reaction was that of calm.   I haven’t shed a tear yet nor do I intend to.  I do have to say, however, that certain things have come into focus for lack of a better term.  It’s almost like standing outside yourself and looking not only in, but outward as well on not only on my own state, but that of the world as well. 

I could bore you to tears with terms like “Wabi Sabi” and other esoteric nonsense but I’ll try to be brief and concise. One thing I am, however, certain of and it’s this; EVERYTHIING is a gift! Every sunrise, every hour, every minute and in those moments are the secrets that we all are looking for; magic.  We all look for it and seem to want to believe that it exists in the type of form sold to us by way of Hogwarts, Ministries of Magic and the like and  nothing could be further from the truth.  Magic exists in its true form in a way that we all practice it without even knowing at the time and in its simplest form; that of trying to be decent to each other.  How many of you reading this at some point in your life can look back on something that happened that changed your perspective if even of a minute to actually see the world around you?  For me, one of those days was that little girl taking her own moment of joy in the sun.  What was yours?  The hardest part is in trying to stay open to those moments when they present themselves. 

Anyone who has ever suffered my prior writings knows the importance I place on personal perspective.  Well now it seems that my own paradigm has shifted a little in that for me perspective seems to be only a paving stone on the road to clarity.  We’ve all had moments of clarity throughout our lives but I have a tendency to think that we view those times as fleeting and actually try to get past them as quickly as we can; oftentimes out of necessity.  For me, those moments often came when I found myself in a life an death situation.  During some of those times, I just KNEW without any logical way of explaining it, that today was not the day no matter how dangerous the situation and, probably, that was what granted me the clarity to see and navigate the situation (other times it was sheer dumb luck).  As I wait for the biopsy results it’s kind of the same way. The tumor may come back benign, low grade, or as a nightmare three month out the door worst case scenario but here’s the thing; it doesn’t matter.  Let the results come back worst case, let them tell me that treatment isn’t even worth it, let them tell me they are just taking me to deaths door and leaving me on the stoop, thats fine because then what happens is I kick in the door, drag the SOB out for a beating and walk home.  I’ve told a few people that and they “compliment” me on my “attitude” (frankly annoying) because it isn’t and I don’t know how to explain it in any kind of way that doesn’t sound like hubris which it isn’t either.  The only people who seem to get it have been in situations like what I’ve mentioned (certain immediate life and death kinds of things).  The only thing I know is what I know and it is my sincere hope that if you don’t understand my last statement, you never do because to get there, you have to walk a road of very sharp stones.    

In the martial art I train in, I’m surrounded by a bunch of cool folks all of whom work not just to defend themselves, but how to protect others as well including those who attack us if possible; Ethical Protectors if you will and in the last few years of training I found myself undergoing a sea change in philosophy in that I found that applications for the art almost more effective outside the physical application than in. Yes, there are times when you can’t avoid conflict but more often than not I think, it’s used far too frequently and more like a crutch or easy way out. In the dojo, we often talk about “shaping the space” by which you lead the attacker to the required destination allowing them to either disengage or no longer be able to fight.  In the beginning, I took that to mean the whole thing came from only one side of the equation and it took a few years for it to sink in (what can I say, I’m a slow learner).  Now however, it seems to me that the process requires not only the leading aspect but that you also MUST remain open to the aspect of the unknown, the creative spark that can come from anyplace and if you aren’t open to that possibly, no amount of personal will is going to help you navigate the road and this situation has granted me the clarity to see that more for what it is.  One of the things I realize is that even this is a gift I’ve been given for what ever reason; my only hope is that in some small way I can use it to possibly help others even if I never learn of it; maybe even by this post. 

Everything we have is a gift of some sort; both the good and the bad.  We have only to remain open to the creative spark that fuels both sides of our lives allow that magic of the world in and out which is way harder to practice than sounds but possible.   So in closing, look for more along these lines anyplace you can and see how it works for you because not today, tomorrow, or for a long time, but someday I will slip this mortal coil and on that day I will touch the face of god and ride the veil between the universe and structure of mans dreams but I’ll still be around; watching and listening.  When I do, the only thing I want to hear from any of you is either laughter or the sound of feet dancing in the cold winter sun….

Mr. Sylvester

Recently, I took a trip back to New Orleans and, while there, I had occasion to visit “The Backstreet Cultural Museum.”  I can’t take credit for the visit because it wasn’t my idea and I’m embarrassed to say that I had never been there before; it was entirely my companion’s idea (as usual, she hit it out of the park).  The museum is located in the Farborg Marginy neighborhood and occupies the old Blandings Funeral Home.  Mr. Sylvester had been an employee of the establishment for several years and, when the owners retired, they left the building to him (he still lives on the second floor).  An icon of the city, he’s literally seen it all and the central corridor proves it with countless photos and stories.  The museum itself is dedicated to the preservation of black New Orleans culture, society, and history.  When you walk in, you find two main rooms; to the left are exhibits about the social aid and pleasure societies as well as all things concerning “Second Line” parades. To the right, everything New Orleans Indian including several donated costumes.  When we arrived, we walked past a group talking on the corner and it wasn’t until after we entered that we turned around and found one of the men we had just passed standing before us who introduced himself as Mr. Sylvester and informed us that, while there was no admission fee, there was an $8.00 “cover charge” (you HAVE to love a city with a museum that treats itself more like a nightclub!). We were then invited to look around and ask any questions we might have but it didn’t take long for Mr. Sylvester to begin speaking about that which he loves most. 

 

On the Indian side he began talking about the history of the New Orleans Indian Tribes, their story, and what they stand for. Part of the speech struck me to the point that I tried to write it down later that day so as not to forget.  I’m sure that I’ve probably left something out, but here goes;

 “So you got Uptown (Tribes) and Downtown (Tribes); Uptown don’t like Downtown and Downtown don’t like Uptown.  When two chiefs agree to come out (to meet), Uptown know he don’t got it, so he go to the next apron or chest piece, he know he still ain’t got it, so he go on to the next (one); he got like maybe four or five chest pieces and aprons one on top of the other, but he still ain’t got it because those aprons and chest pieces are like paint by number and anybody can do that, they ain’t three dimensional; not creative. Also, when you got that much on your outfit, it weigh like 80 pounds and you can’t dance in it. With Downtown, it start with a single little patch each year and builds out from there, all done by hand and in three dimensions, creative.”

 And there it was; within two minutes, this man standing before me had broken down the essence and difference between creativity and art.  Pick a discipline and try to find how it doesn’t fit (I don’t’ think you can, personally).  But the place for me that it also seems to fit the best is in the Martial Arts.  Many of us who study the Bujinkan come to it later after exploring different schools of the martial arts and find ourselves wanting more.  While there are many good teachers out there, far too many fall into the “Uptown” school of thinking.  How many of us were initially taught in these styles to “have a bag of techniques” that we could/should fall back on?  Of one didn’t work, go on to the next set and so on and so on.  The problem is that it assumes a static environment that, frankly, doesn’t exist in real life.  Furthermore, when you do nothing but have a “set of techniques” to use in a fight, you weigh yourself down with those very same techniques and are unable to respond to a fluid situation like a fight or a potential fight.  Think of it this way, if you start with that single little patch (Kihon Happo, Sanshin, etc.) as a grounding to build out from and think in three dimensions (think “taking the space” here) then when you find yourself in a conflict or potential conflict,  you become more fluid and able to respond more effectively and while your reactions are based in the aforementioned training drills, what you actually do will bear very little resemblance to those forms and will, if done properly, never be seen again because the exact same situation will never be repeated again. 

On a more esoteric note, this same principle can be applied even before a conflict begins and can often diffuse a fight before it begins which is a good thing since I often find myself fighting to keep from falling back into the whole “hulk SMASH” mentality that was drilled into me for so many years at different dojos and law enforcement academies.  I can attest to the ability of the principle working from personal experience in my job as a law enforcement officer and finally understanding the difference between power and authority which understanding is often sorely lacking in my field (a topic for another post perhaps).  

So the moral of the story, if there is any? Start with the patch, be creative, think in three dimensions so you won’t be weighed down and will always find yourself able to dance.  Oh, and when in New Orleans, make a trip to the Backstreet Cultural Museum, pay your cover charge, and visit a while with Mr. Sylvester.  He will talk as long as you listen and I promise you a single word won’t be wasted.

A Roll of Honor

A name is skipped at roll call. 

The silence of its' absence painful to the ear.

A shield is laid down 

for the bearer no longer has need. 

But as that name is stricken from one roll, it is added to another; 

A Roll of Honor. 

And a new place is set at a table in the hall of heros. 

To speed your journey, we send with you our gratitude and respect. 

Our grief we reserve for ourselves. 

May you find beyond the veil that which you fought and gave all to give others in this life

and be blessed with the fullest meaning of your title. 

Peace Officer

Soldiers and Warriors

Now that the New Year is here, I find myself looking back on 2012 and wondering; where the hell did it go?  Also, I guess due to the nature of the calendar and seasons, I find myself reflecting on the highs, lows, and what I’ve learned.  One of the things that stands out the most in my mind is, scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed on July 4^th, someone had “shared” a photo collection of Abu Ghraib, rather than quickly moving away from the post, I took time to look at the photos and wonder just what the hell happened to make things go so wrong with these people (the guards)?  How did a group of individuals band together with things going so horribly wrong?

 Part of the answer to that, I think, lies in what was discovered in the University of Michigan study several years ago during which, two groups of students were assigned roles of either prisoners or guards. The study was cut short after a few weeks due to the abuse the “guards” were perpetrating on the prisoner group and serious concerns arose regarding the health and physical safety of the prisoner group.  These were students who reportedly knew each other and knew it was a psychological study and still went over the edge in their treatment of what were at least associates if not friends.  Have you ever heard the phrase “there is no such thing as an atheist in a foxhole.” I think to answer the question of how things go so far over the edge in these situations can be summed up as; “when a group is under stress or attack, there’s no such thing as an orphan.” When members of a group are placed under a stressor, they seem to instinctively focus on following a designated leader who emerges from the group and, more often than not, direct their attention to an “enemy” either perceived or real to solidify cohesion. When this happens, the group following their designated leader, will usually fall inline with whatever the leader decides to do even if under normal circumstance and alone, the individual knows what is being done is wrong and would not normally take those actions.  Don’t get me wrong at this point and think that I’m in any way trying to abrogate the individual responsibility for their actions, but to ignore the multiple instances of these occurrences would stymie any attempt to ameliorate these situations.  

It also begs the question, are all of these situations negative?  Have there been any times when this psychological trait of “group think” has worked in favor of the side of right?  The most obvious answer to the question comes from a group of Marines and a very under reported incident that occurred in the early days of the Iraq invasion (http://www.sfgate.com/bayarea/nevius/article/Veterans-share-views-on-Iraq-war-2557311.php ). To sum up the incident, a group of Marines on patrol rounded a corner and came face-to face with a funeral procession complete with armed mourners firing into the air. For anyone unfamiliar with the type of procession, imagine encountering for the first time in your life a group of people in which the women are crying out and the men are shooting off automatic weapons in the air all the while “displaying” their grief over the loss of someone.  Now consider that not only have you probably never seen this type of thing before in your life but add on a healthy dose of adrenalin to the mix since you are in a foreign country in a combat situation and you have no idea if the funeral is for someone who died of natural causes or because he was an insurgent or was killed in crossfire and you also have no idea how the procession is going to react to the sudden presence of you and your patrol in their way.  What happened next something that deserves to be honored and retold among all warriors; a corporal called for his fellow Marines to remove their helmets and bow their heads as the procession passed.  The patrol responded to the “leader” of the group and did as instructed ignoring what common sense would dictate as being an incredibly dangerous action.  When the mourners saw this, the procession came to a complete halt and, after a few startled seconds, began to applaud the Marines. 

I guess some actions and values are universal.  

Anyone who has ever been in rural America will tell you that when you encounter a funeral procession driving by (even if it is going in the opposite direction), you pull over to the side of the road as a bare minimum. To be even more proper, you get out of your car and stand there until the procession passes you by.  In the old days, this was just considered the “right thing” to do; just as the young Marine did what he perceived was the right thing in his situation.  Why and how, however, do we figure out just what the hell the “right thing” is?  The answer to that comes down to one simple word;

Respect…   

Such a simple word and often so hard to put into effect.  However, when you truly see the person in front of you as a PERSON and show them that either by word or action, respect usually follows, and is often returned.  If you don’t, do this; if you see the person or people in front of you as just “subjects”, “suspects”, “targets”, etc. you actually end up dehumanizing yourself by dehumanizing them. During my time in law enforcement, I’ve become very familiar with the gallows humor that goes along with the job.  Most in law enforcement usually start out wanting to help others and their community but, after literally being spit on, lied to, and watching those you do try to help refuse your assistance knowing that the path they are on will lead to an early grave, you develop a new “skin” and distance themselves from the public as a defense mechanism. You will also gravitate to “your own kind” i.e. other law enforcement personnel strengthening the “us versus them” mentality believing no one else can understand you or the stressors of the job.  How many of you reading this who are in law enforcement can say that you have someone you consider a close friend and confidant who isn’t “on the job”?  It’s a natural occurrence but just because it’s natural doesn’t make it right. Now before you think I’m going all kumbaya here and about to ask for a group hug let me point out that you can still view whoever you are interviewing, handcuffing, taking orders from, etc as an asshat, jackhole, fucktard, or whatever adjective you care to use and there are times when you need to let someone know that by their actions even the baby Jesus doesn’t love them at the moment.   But if you can still see them as a person with needs, wants, family, etc, it gives you a more even keel and, in my opinion, gives you a better chance of knowing the right thing when decisions present themselves.  Consider it this way; how do you think the public views you after being treated in the same way that most of you think management and Internal Affairs looks at you (i.e. an object before a person and guilty until proven innocent)?  All of this is probably just a long winded way of saying what can be summed up by reading Robert Humphreys “hunting story;” for those not familiar with it, a simple Google search is all you need and I won’t retell the story here because it isn’t mine to tell.  You have to have something outside the job (besides “recreational” drinking) to ground yourself so you can have a broader perspective. For me, its martial arts training with a real dojo that places and teaches a value on human life instead of the local mixed martial arts gym but whatever it is, sports, martial arts, church, etc., a little distance from “the job” actually makes you better at it. When you don’t have something outside the job to ground yourself, the culture of the “blue line” becomes paramount and that’s when bad decisions can be made. An example of this occurred in Chicago in 2007 when an off duty police officer, after being cut off from any more alcohol because he was drunk, came around the bar and physically attacked the female bartender less than half his size, (we’ve all seen the video) and was not arrested for felony assault until after the video of the beating became public.  If you respond to a bar fight and find a 125 lb female bartender beaten by a 250 lb male and your primary reaction appears to be saving the attackers job; you seriously need to reexamine your priorities and career choices! If you responded to this kind of incident and didn’t know that the assailant was a fellow cop, what would your reaction to the situation be? As warriors, we take responsibility for our actions and decisions and one of our decisions was an oath to uphold the law no matter what.  There have been times when, in order to uphold my oath, I’ve literally wanted to go home and scream at the top of my lungs because the law seemed contradictory to justice but there was no other option.   This (the videotaped beating) is the kind of damage to the reputation of law enforcement that will literally take generations to fix.  Whether we like it or not, THIS is the kind of thing that the public sees and remembers when they think about law enforcement. Personally, I believe this is the minority and our successes don’t get celebrated enough or even noticed by the media for the most part but for attitudes to change, it has to begin on a personal, one on one level and if you are only associating with other law enforcement officers, you aren’t able to have the interaction with the “general public” enough to make a difference and you do yourself a diservice .   I know by now that some of you reading this are already starting to form your response to this missive and think I’m totally out of my tree here but before you post your “f” you back to me, I worked as a local law enforcement officer doing undercover work in one of the highest crime cities in the United States before turning to the dark side and joining the federal ranks so I do know just what the stresses of the job entail and the need for force to be applied when necessary.   When you interact with people in the course of your duties and are required to apply force to a person rather than a “subject”, it does make it harder to initiate, but as long as you keep your tactical awareness, I don’t think that that’s a bad thing.  The question ultimately becomes; are you a warrior willing to stand for your oath or are you a soldier just following orders?  If you are a warrior, you stand on your oath and take responsibility for your actions including those that will be unpopular and cause you grief from the “soldiers” who are more interested in the collection and retention of power based on whatever authority they can eek out of their position and office.  

When we began our vocation by taking our oaths, we all chose the path of the warrior for whatever reason and we need to walk that path instead of being soldiers. Every nation has soldiers and history is replete with atrocities committed by following orders by either a commander or an emergent leader such as demonstrated in the three examples I gave at the beginning of this missive. 

Back to the beginning; how do we identify and foster men and women like the Marine corporal? Answer; we don’t; they will arise and identify themselves as needed. The trick is to train ourselves so we know the difference and act as warriors.  

The Rose and the Thinker

So I had a new post all done and ready to go; an article on the effects of stress and resulting behaviors in small group dynamics that I’ll probably still post at a later date, but I recently got back from a trip that got me thinking about a few observations that are still running around in my head.  The trip I took was a week in Paris and, while there, I whole heartedly and hedonistically indulged myself as a tourist and did as many of the “touristy” things I could.  I wanted to turn off, drink wine at midnight on the banks of the Seine River under Notre Dame and feed the die-hard-romanticist-film-noir part of my soul.  But of course, life always seems to have other plans and presents lessons and reminders in places you least expect. 

The first was, while touring the Louvre; I wandered into the gallery housing the Mona Lisa. She sits alone on a wall cordoned off so the closest you can get is about 15 feet and, in front of the cordon, is a never ending group of people jostling to get up to the front of the cordon where, instead of taking a moment to admire this work of acknowledged genius, they (the vast majority) seemed only to want to snap a photo with their camera or camera phone and move off to the “next thing.”  And when I say the crowd was jostling, that might be an understatement since it seemed more akin to a European football crowd in its movement than what you would expect from an art museum and was literally elbowed by a gentleman of about 60 who felt I was standing in his perfect spot for a photo.   As I moved off to the side, I began to watch the crowd interact with each other, the portrait, and their environment as a whole. As I did so, the Mona Lisa’s oft guessed at smile took on a new meaning for me and seemed to say; “You dolts! Some of you have traveled hundreds and thousands of miles, crossed oceans and continents, and the best you can do is view me through a camera lens?!?!”  That’s when I noticed that Ms. Mona had friends with her. Throughout the rest of the gallery that housed her where about 18 other paintings, all by acknowledged masters and wonderful in their own right and I took my time appreciating them all.

Following the flow of the traffic out of the Mona Lisa gallery, I was again beset by those on their way to the Next Thing. The outer room held no printings but had very ornately decorated walls. I stopped in the middle of the room, looked up, and was greeted by a beautiful mural covering almost the entire ceiling.  The sound of shutters and camera phones broke my revere and, looking around, found that several others seeing me look up had followed suit and out came the cameras again.  

The next was while touring the garden of the Rodin house and museum. Side Note; the admission fee to the garden section only is one euro and it’s the best and cheapest ticket you will find in Paris. The centerpiece of the garden is Le Penseur or  The Thinker.  Surrounding the statue are several shaped trees and rose bushes. One of the bushes that I hadn’t noticed was, fortunately, discovered by my companion and my gods am I glad she found that bush! When I entered the garden, the flora was an accompaniment to the sculpture but after smelling that wondrous scent, the contextual relationship flipped making the rose the centerpiece of the experience.  If I could bottle the scent of that rose, I would never have to work another day in my life!  Filled with notes of Meyer Lemon, honey, and herbs, it was truly a delight to the senses but also sparked a conversation and debate.  The question that arose is this; “If that rose had been encountered someplace other than the Rodin Garden in the shadow of The Thinker, would it have smelled as good? Does the context change the perception and, if so, how much?  Would that rose have smelled just as good if found, say, in the green space of a busy street; what about the middle of a dung heap?”  The answer to these questions is both yes and no.  Those of you who know me know that I often say that EVERYTHING we do always comes down to personal perception and the context we give to it.  The place in which we start a decision, process, observation, etc., will determine where we end it as well. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it is something to be mindful of or we can miss some important shit in life. Because of personal perception, a person might not even stop to notice a rose outside of a garden or, that person might not be as well disposed to appreciate it if surrounded by passing cars and the noises and distractions of a busy street but if you let these other things distract you and find yourself only able to appreciate such a wonder as a rose while in a garden, what else are you missing?

We all know the type of person I mentioned in the beginning of this missive. Soke has labeled them “kata collectors” and I can’t think of a better term. These are the people who rush through life always going to the “next thing” without taking the time to appreciate and understand what is right in front of them and, because of this, usually miss out on what’s really important.  They wander in and out of the dojo’s we train at; looking to “learn” the art of the Ninja and give up when they aren’t immediately initiated into the “inner secrets.” I mean, what exactly do they think they are going to get?  Do they think they are going to be taught a five finger exploding heart palm technique or something? If pressed, I doubt even they could give an answer as to what exactly they are looking for.  They seem to think that, if they find the right teacher, they will instantly become a master.  No matter how good the teacher, each of us rises only to the level of our ability and willingness to learn. Follow me on this for a minute and try to think of it this way; who is/was responsible for Rodin’s works; Rodin himself, his talent or his teacher?  The person who taught him to sculpt taught him the techniques, underlying principles, and ways to express what was inside him, but without the innate talent, his works would never have risen to what we recognize as the level of a masterpiece.  Likewise, if Rodin himself had not taken either what was inside him seriously or the words of his instructor, his works might well have found themselves given the same appreciation as the other paintings displayed in the Mona Lisa gallery.  For the entire process to work, all three parts must be in agreement or synch with each other holding whatever percentage necessary to make a whole.

As said earlier, I believe everything we do comes down to our personal perception and the context we see the situation in. If we look at it from a training standpoint the question then becomes, what are we missing due to our perception of the context? For those of us who continue to train, why do we do it and, more importantly, when and how do we use it?  What does our art mean to us in our daily lives?  My Shidoshi has said before that Budo can only truly exist and live if it is treated as something that can die.  If we take this approach, everything we do can and should become part of our practice.  If you only use the art while practicing in a dojo, for social reasons or as a way to blow off steam, you might seriously want to consider taking up Tai Bo instead.  I’m not saying that you should put on a costume and become the Fist of Goodness at night running across rooftops, but that the art can and should go beyond physical applications.  If we consider our art as a living, breathing thing, then the techniques begin to fall by the wayside and the underlying principles of those techniques come more sharply into focus allowing us to adapt more readily to physical and nonphysical situations and spread to life outside the dojo.  I’m not saying that you will instantly have a light shine down upon you and be able to execute every technique shown to you perfectly because gods know I embarrass myself more often in the dojo than I care to admit.  The thing about this is, the “technique” of the dojo, and even life for that matter, become secondary if you allow yourself to broaden the context of whatever situation you find yourself in and can more easily adapt with a wider perspective.  I’ve talked a little about this in my last post, but thought it worth revisiting.  I guess the most important thing to remember and take away for those who have had the fortitude to read this entire post is, always, always, remember to look up.

The Hammer Effect

The Hammer Effect

            Almost two weeks ago, I attended a training seminar for/about warrior protectors which got me reflecting again on why I train. This is a question that I touched on last year in a series of Facebook posts, but I think it needs a little more specificity and, to do that, I need to start at the beginning;

I’ve been involved in warrior arts for the last 29 years and, during that time, I’ve been shot, stabbed, had more bones broken than I care to count, but I’m still here and do a job that requires me to, at least be capable of, inflicting violence on another person for the purpose of protecting myself, those around me, and those that I may be in conflict with. Yes, you read the last part of that sentence correctly and it isn’t a misprint. It is, however, an interesting juxtaposition isn’t it? It is also something that I have come to only in the last few years of training.

I began martial arts like most other kids taking karate at the local dojo. Almost immediately after beginning however, I knew that there must be more that what was being taught and began looking for other teachers. I was lucky enough to stumble across a dojo that became my home for years to come. The name of the dojo and even the style is unimportant (the name has since been co-opted by another group that has as much to do with the jitsu I trained in as a giraffe does to a zebra). The dojo I trained in was one of three in the country and you had to find it by word-of-mouth as they used no advertising whatsoever. Unlike most schools in the U.S., you had to apply to become a student and, only after an interview with the Shihan, could you begin training. The jitsu is probably the oldest in Okinawa and was created by a single family that traced its roots back to before the Sho Dynasty of the 14^th century and was heavily influenced by the local fighting arts (what has become modern karate), a little Japanese taijitsu, as well as Shaolin Temple Boxing, Hsing-I, and Pau Kua.  For years I got my ass regularly kicked at that dojo (and loved every minute of it)! During that whole time I was learning the fundamentals of a fighting system that had been employed by the rulers of the Ryuku islands to gather intelligence, harass and remove rivals; essentially the “special forces” of Okinawa.  The tenants that I learned to follow encompassed a style that had it's own kame, kojitsu, and ideas about space in which you took your opponents balance slightly for the purpose of eliciting an expected body reaction to strike your intended target to finish your opponent off (essentially put your opponent(s) down in a way that they will not get back up. As I said before, this was not a do or “way” style but a field tested fighting art made for quiet, quick, close-in combat in which you “remove the stone from the board” and move on).   

During those years I moved through the kyu, on to the dan grades and we were treated to the “old school” way of being taught along with a healthy dose of special forces psychological unit training picked up by the Shihan during his time in the Rangers prior to taking various positions with different law enforcement agencies.  I think it was, at least partly because of this, that most of us ended up either in law enforcement, the military, as operators, or some combination of all three.  During that time, I became what I thought was expected of me, a hardened warrior living an Epitcticlean life able to take on all comers and do whatever needed to be done. If someone was standing in the way well, that was poor decision making on their part and they “dealt the play;” why should I worry about them?  Later, during my time “on the job” I never used unnecessary force but neither did I worry about what happened to the bandit while in the process of subduing them.  Over the years, however, part of me I think instinctively knew that there was still more to the equation than what I was doing and, after the Shihan moved the dojo a few more hours away, fell out of attendance. 

Don’t get me wrong at this point, I am and will always be deeply grateful to my first Shihan for what he taught me because it has literally saved my life on more than one occasion. The only way I can describe what was happening to me is this; “When you are a hammer, you treat everything as a nail.”  Ever heard that line before? Not only is it true, but there is another, unspoken part to that saying. Have you ever looked at a long used hammer? Is the surface smooth or dented? What about the handle? How many micro fractures do you think it can withstand before it finally shatters? Another way of explaining it goes to a time when a fellow student once asked me about being in law enforcement; I answered it like this, “being a cop doesn’t allow you to keep your humanity.” In many ways and in many departments across the country that is, sadly, true. Without proper training, mentoring, and support, a person will naturally shut themselves off from their environment as a self defense mechanism against the detris and despair that they encounter on a day-to-day basis. By seeing those they deal with as objects instead of people, they think, protects their sanity; what they don’t realize is what it slowly does to their soul.  By dehumanizing those that they are dealing with, they begin to dehumanize themselves without even realizing it. I personally believe that this is one of the reasons why the alcoholism and suicide rates among law enforcement are so much higher than compared to the general population. It’s also the reason why many who do undercover work for any period of time have trouble fitting in with other cops because, to be successful, you have to identify on some level with the people you are working or they will make you in a New York minute. 

Unfortunately, many departments train their officers to detach themselves and to “be a hammer.” During the last basic academy for my current position, we had a phrase pounded into us on a daily basis; “Violence Rules the Day!”  When you train your officers to think this way, then they usually will. The problem with this mindset, in addition to what I’ve said above, is that that style of fighting drops the officer into a basic animal state meeting force on force. When that happens, what you essentially have is what’s described in “The Demons Sermon on the Martial Arts” (Issai Chozanshi; 1659-1741) as the “swordsman with strong chi.” Without much real technique but a forceful attack, you may get by on many occasions, but ultimately that force will fail you when faced with a person who is either trained or stronger than you.  Let me emphasize one other thing as well; seeing everyone you deal with on the job as a person with a story of their own instead of just a classification is HARD. It takes constant work because, at least in the short run, the other way is easier. You have to have something to ground you.

But I digress; a few years ago I decided to get back into training and started looking at various dojos/styles.  After a few false starts I came across a webpage for a Bujinkan dojo. The description intrigued me as well as the fact that no specific location was given.  Instead, you were required to submit a resume of sorts to a given email address including your contact information. A little while later, I got a response from the Shihan of the dojo and, after a few rounds of phone tag, finally made a connection. Within the first five minutes of that phone call, the Shihan indicated that he didn’t think he was in a position to help me, but neither did he hang up the phone and we ended up taking for about 45 minutes (I must have taken up his entire lunch hour). At the end of the conversation, he invited me to attend a class which I knew would be a further evaluation before an invitation to join or request to leave was made. I already felt at home since I had been through this once before but was also incredibly nervous and excited as well! Here was someone NOT running a business but training only those he thought deserving of his time! That, of course led me to a near anxiety attack; what if I’m told after the class not to come back? It had been over 20 years since I had been through this type of thing and felt woefully unprepared for it.  I showed up that first night and spent the longest two hours of my life; getting shot at wasn’t as nerve racking as that class but, at the end, for whatever reason, I was invited to continue training.  During the next few classes, I was introduced to a maddeningly similar and yet totally different way of moving and fighting. Don’t force the balance of your opponent, let them do the work while you occupy and shape the space, be fluid and keep moving; avoid "going rigid” so you don’t transmit any information to your opponent regarding what you are about to not only do to him, but allow him do to himself. But also during the training, I was introduced to another way of thinking as well; protect not only yourself, those around you, but the bandit too if possible. Something inside me clicked, knowing that this was the other, final side, of the triangle. This is not to say that there aren’t times that deadly force is required, and the techniques of the Bujinkan can be devastating, but a different way of thinking about what you are doing and that you are doing it to another person.  Being a warrior means to protect all life if possible. This has helped me not only in training, but I can state from first hand experience that it has enabled me to avoid using physical techniques on a person when, in the old days, the “ask, tell, make” axiom ruled the day.  It takes a little more energy and a lot of empathy, but in many cases, the taijitsu is in use without ANY physical technique at all, only your listening and verbal skills to shape the space and “defeat” the opponent before any physicality enters the equation, but if need be, is there and able to be deployed while causing the least amount of harm to both yourself and the bandit.  I’m also probably not explaining it very well but fortunately, there are those out there who can. All I know for certain is that the hammer is being melted down and I look forward to see what will be forged in its place. Also, my Shihan and the other sensei in the dojo have the patience of saints.

Incense in the Rain

So spring is here all three (Druidic, Julian, and Chinese) new years have come and are upon us. Maybe because to this, I find myself thinking back on the last year; the highs and lows, what I’ve learned, and what I’ve been reminded of. This only begs the question, what were those things? The time that stands out the most when I ask myself those questions, is my trip to Thailand.

Like some ill-formed character in a Hesse novel, I took a “Journey to the East” with only some half formed idea of what I might or expect to find.  After close to six months removed, I find myself virtually homesick for a place I spent less than a month in. Part of the answer for why I feel that way is easy; the heat, humidity, the open air markets, all take me back to a time of my youth and young adulthood and reminds me of how much I detest the sensory assault of the modern western life from the fluorescent glare of the shopping malls to the antiseptic stench of the modern “supermarkets.”

But my time there wasn’t all smiles and I’m in some ways, still processing my trip. Like many of my generation, I think my idea of a Buddhist Monk was somewhat formed watching reruns of the TV series “Kung Fu”.   I think subconsciously, I expected all the monks to all be like “Master Po;” serene, knowledgeable in the ways of mysticism, unfettered by the modern world and its trappings. When I arrived in Thailand, that image was shattered into a million pieces.   I remember being disconcerted whenever I would walk by a monk and see iPod ear buds with the cords leading down into the twining of his robes, see a rotund monk stepping from an SUV while talking on his cell phone, etc.  To make matters worse, the rampant commercialism of the Wat’s up to and including, scrolling neon signs across the temple walls knocked my preconceptions for a loop. Now consciously, I knew that the image of my childhood expectations would not be the reality, but I couldn’t help but be saddened by the selling of a culture, including it’s religion, in pursuit of commercial profit.  I was almost driven to violence watching a girl kneeling in prayer in front of a statue of the Buddha, while a German tourist stepped around her with annoyance, to try to get the “perfect shot” with his camera. Then I remembered the many photos I had taken as well and tried to remember if I had shown such disrespect as well. I hope I didn’t.  

But before you get the wrong idea, I did thoroughly enjoy my time in Thailand and think back to recall the highlights and pick out the important experiences. Was it the food? Was it the out of the way Wats not on the tourist map where one could almost feel the hundreds of years of prayer and meditation? Was it the courtesy inherent in everyday life? Was it teaching Qigong to a monk in the shadow of a Chetti, just a few steps away from a relic of the Buddha?   While all of these things were wonderful, there are three things that stand our in my mind and I will take with me forever.

While walking (getting lost actually) in the warren streets of Bangkok’s Chinatown, I looked over and saw a Buddhist Nun sitting quietly between two stalls holding her alms bowl in her lap. When I passed her, I dropped a few coins into her bowl and, when she looked up at me, what I saw on her face shocked me almost to tears. Upon her face was a smile, but it was the eyes that went straight to my soul with what I saw; peace, joy, tranquility, my childhood idealized version of a Buddhist mystic. I thought at the time; that’s it! I want that! How did you get it and where can I find it?!? While all of these things went through my mind, however, I just stood there struck dumb until I retreated, afraid if I spoke I would break the spell.

The next thing I took away with me was, while sitting in a coffee shop in Bangkok, I looked over and saw a boy of about 8 or 9 on the sidewalk playing a flute. Whenever the door to the shop opened, I could hear his flutesong even over the noise of Bangkok traffic and the sky train; something I shouldn’t have been able to do. Hauntingly ethereal, the music seemed to permeate everything around me and I found myself thinking about what life has in store for this little beggar-boy. When I left the coffee shop, I dropped some money into his bowl as well. Was it enough? Not a chance by a long shot, but enough to buy a meal. After seeing my “donation” to his performance, he stopped playing for only an instant to acknowledge me with a nod of his head that betrayed the years that he had already lived in so short a time, and went back to his flute like the little businessman he was.

Also while there, I spent some time at the Elephant Nature Park in Chiang Mai. I can’t say enough good things about this sanctuary. A heard of over 30 elephants, all rescued from lives of abuse, given the opportunity to live out their lives nature intended, while taking no money or support from the government. Many of these noble creatures have suffered greatly at the hand of mankind from landmine injuries due to working illegal logging operations, to intentional blinding with slingshot and knife by their mahout for refusing to work after the loss of her baby.   On the first day there, several of the volunteers where trying to save a sick member of the heard who had arrived only a few months prior. Mae Sai Roong had been rescued from an illegal logging operation where she had been forced to work under terrible conditions. To make matters worse for her, her mahout had spiked her system with Yaa-Baa (meth) to keep her working straight for days and weeks at a time without rest.  Now, her system was shutting down.  She lost her battle for life two days later.

On my final day at ENP, I walked from my hut to the designated smoking area and saw what last nights monsoon had done; it wasn’t hard to see that the debris floating in the river was the remains of a village upstream. The next few hours where spent on “body watch”; looking for human remains, ready to call out to those with nets downstream to attempt to catch the victims of the flood. I still don’t know if all the bodies were recovered.   

After the body watch detail was done, everyone went to another area of the preserve for the funeral service for Mae Sai Roong. Just next to Lek, the founders’ house, a grave had been dug with a backhoe and Mae Sai Roong was laid on her side in the grave. All of us stood around the grave in the rain holding flowers and incense listening to the chanting of a Buddhist Abbot and the local Shaman, who had welcomed us upon our arrival to the park, as strings (the same that we wore around our wrists) where attached from Mae Sai Roong to the spirit house to facilitate her entry for her rest. The chanting to let her spirit know that she had a safe place to rest, that her struggle was over, that she was free and finally had a place that was safe.  After the chants, one by one, we approached the grave and placed our flowers and incense at the side of the grave, wai’ed, and returned to the line to allow the next person to pay their respects. After placing my offering, I looked up at the spirit house and was reminded of another a long time ago, tucked into a garden, sitting next to a tea pavilion.   

Many years ago, I did a favor for a master of Cha-do (the way of tea) and, by way of thanks, he invited me over to his home one day. When I arrived, I was escorted back into a lovely and totally hidden Japanese garden which contained a spirit house and a small tea pavilion where he performed the tea service for me. During the second, less formal phase of the ceremony, it fell to me as the guest to initiate polite conversation.  I chose to ask him about the Kakemono (scroll) on the wall. He responded by giving me the translation for the calligraphy which meant “Ichi-go, Ichi-e”; One opportunity, One encounter (this was, ironically, last years theme for the dojo that I train at). Put into more western terms, you only get one chance, one meeting because every time, every moment, is unique, special, and different.  Embrace every moment and opportunity for once it’s gone, it will never return.  Maybe that’s what I took away from my journey to Thailand; the remembrance that all of us, regardless of race, religion, nationality, or anything else, are essentially the same. We all suffer through life’s’ trials, try to carve out a niche for ourselves, and take joy and comfort wherever and whenever we can find it and show kindness where we can.. Maybe that’s all there is and all it should be. All I know is, whenever I close my eyes at night, I still hear that flutesong and smell incense in the rain.