Well, this past week was full of changes. Our nation of the United States held an election. It held more drama than either side expected. AP called the results just yesterday. In some states, election officials are still counting votes.
I changed jobs. Thursday was my last day at my old employer. Friday was my one day between jobs, and tomorrow I will start at a new place. The new company also allows for remote work, so that was a relief.
This past week was also my “meditation” week. That means that, in lieu of push-ups, sit-ups and squats, I meditate for ten minutes. I continue to do my ten minute writes on a daily basis, though those are not always making it to this blog.
Ten Bulls, or 10 Ox Herding Pictures
Also, sometime last week, I finished reading the Mumonkan. I’ve started a small section called 10 Bulls. According to Wikipedia, the 10 Bulls, or 10 Ox Herding Poems, are drawings accompanying poems which describe the stages of attaining enlightenment in Zen. These stages include bringing the wisdom of enlightenment back into society.
Senzaki and Reps transcribed my copy (Zen Flesh, Zen Bones). Tokuriki, a contemporary of the more modern transcribers, illustrated it. “Contemporary,” I should note, is about 1935. This is more recent, certainly, than the twelfth century original of poems and drawings (now lost). The original first appeared in China. The illustrator for mine, Tomikichiro Tokuriki, according to a site called “Japanese Woodblock Prints,” lived in Kyoto. His family produced twelve generations of woodblock artists!
I’ve read five so far. They are an easier than the Mumonkan. The Bull seems to be a stand-in for the mind, and many of the poems, so far, deal with “taming” the mind with meditation and breathing.
Discovering the Footprints (10 Bulls, second poem)
Green Ox statue at a Sinclair Gas, July 2019; photo taken on RV trip on the way from California to Colorado; yes, that’s the RV we drove in the background!
Along the riverbank under the trees, I discover footprints! Even under the fragrant grass I see his prints. Deep in the remote mountains they are found. These traces no more can be hidden than one’s nose, looking heavenward. (Zen Flesh, Zen Bones, Ten Bulls, pg. 244)
Already in the second poem’s commentary, we see the Buddhist idea about the illusory self actually introduced as multiple selves:
Then I learn that, just as many many utensils are made from one metal, so too are myriad entities made of the fabric of the self. (244)
Kakuan, Zen Flesh, Zen Bones, compiled by Paul Reps and Nyogen Senzaki
This idea of the myriad within the self I find to be one of Zen’s, and Buddhism’s deepest and most interesting insights.
Democracy and the Myriad Self
Sometimes I think of the myriad entities like the many people making up a democratic nation. Because we are a democracy, we have as many “influencers” as we have people, and as many “deciders” as we have voters. If the self were the United States, then each of us is part of that myriad making up its self. We are not always of one mind. Often we are conflicted, even divided against ourselves, chaotic and messy in our tactics and decisions. Yet we are one. Yes, we change directions often. When we are honest, those switches can lead us to equilibrium.
Most of the time, in our politics, there are two roughly balanced sides. Sometimes there are more than two sides. Each side is actually a collection of interest groups, and they agree to support each other. Finally those groups are made up of individuals. Individuals, like this nation, are each a self which is really a myriad, too, and internally conflicted.
In karate, we seek to strengthen both sides of our bodies, the left and the right. During kihon, each exercise alternates those sides. We practice blocking as well as various strikes. Karate seeks balance, between parts of the body, but also between the aggressive and defensive skills. Kanku, the advanced kata we are learning, is full of mirroring: what you do on the right, you repeat on the left. You travel forward, backwards and side to side during Kanku.
Balance and Meditation
Karate also teaches us to focus our fragmenting mind through meditation. Meditation, then, becomes a unifying force. I hope karate will also serve to strengthen and unify its practitioners, despite the differing politics we may each hold.
Likewise as a country, we need to acknowledge the two horns, two eyes, two nostrils, four legs but one nose and one tail of the bull. The bull can move forward, but it must coordinate its many limbs to do so. We must not forget how to walk together.
This past week I practiced “meditation week.” I meditated most days. Last Monday, however, I made up for missing push-ups, sit-ups and squats the previous Friday. I’m still either running or jumping rope every other day during the week. Honestly I prefer the treadmill to the jump rope. This means I need to do more jump rope sessions.
On Clark St. in Burbank; our neighbors’ sense of Halloween humor!
On non-cardio days, I still get out and walk in the neighborhood. Despite the pandemic, my Burbank neighbors have continued our Halloween tradition with creative and humorous local displays.
Last Tuesday, Sensei R taught a Tai Chi class. It was both challenging and relaxing. Friday night, N taught, and her class was surprisingly challenging: she held “contests,” to see how long we could balance on one leg, or hold a plank, or to see who was most flexible. N herself won for balance; I managed to hold the longest plank, though DJ really made me work for it, and young CF handily won the flexibility title. Rounding out the week, Senpai SL, our “weapons specialist,” taught bo staff. I had thought I was pretty good at bo staff, until I witnessed Senpai SL perform flowers and figure eights with two staves at once! He taught a great workshop: my aching shoulders bore witness to the value of the class for fitness.
Zen’s Denigration of Scholarship for Enlightenment
I’m still reading Zen Flesh, Zen Bones. Currently, I’m in the older portion, the Gateless Gate or the Mumonkan. The treatment of language is an on-going theme. Several stories illustrate the inadequacy of language to bring a monk to enlightenment. I’ve come across at least two examples of monks destroying writings. In an earlier post, I wrote about my feelings on this. One monk destroyed a work written by generations of others [pg. 108] while another, his own writing [206]. Language and reason hamper the monk’s progress in these stories.
How ironic, given the elegance of the stories themselves! In fact, Mumon ends each of his treatises with a poem. What a conundrum! We know about Mumon, his scholarship and poetry through his writing. Moreover, much of Zen’s reach outside of monasteries today results from these beautiful writings and similar works.
Zen’s debt to the written word and poetry is embedded in the earliest introduction of Buddhism to China. According to Wikipedia, An Shigao, an Indian Buddhist monk who settled in Luoyang, first taught Buddhism there.* He translated a set of ancient Buddhist texts on meditation into Chinese. So, at the birth of Ch’an/Zen in China, we already have scholarship in the form of translation. Buddhism entered China with language, writing and its logical traps.
* This is an oversimplification: he’s the first known translator of Indian Buddhist texts into Chinese; we do not know if there were others.
Enlightenment, Language and Fire
Yes, and cats, who can teach us much about living in the present
In “Blow out the Candle,” Tokusan, a student, attains enlightenment after Ryutan, his teacher, offers him a candle. It was night, and Tokusan planned to walk home. As soon as Tokusan takes it, Ryutan blows it out. The next day, Ryutan praises Tokusan; Tokusan burns his writings and leaves the monastery, presumably to teach elsewhere.
Mumon’s commentary includes a second story about Tokusan. When he arrives in the area near Ryutan’s monastery, he comes with a thick commentary. The Southerners, he believes, need instruction on the sutras. He happens upon an old woman. She asks him what he carries that is so heavy. He tells her it is his commentary on the Diamond Sutra.
She observes: “I read that Sutra, which says: ‘the past mind cannot be held, the present mind cannot be held, the future mind cannot be held.’ You wish some tea and refreshments. Which mind do you propose to use for them?” [Zen Flesh, Zen Bones, “Gateless Gate,” page 207] This encounter humbles Tokusan. He asks her for a teacher. She directs him to Ryutan. So, Tokusan begins his search when he encounters this woman. She summarizes years’ worth of scholarship the Diamond Sutra in a single sentence and an offer of tea. He ends his search by burning his own commentary, that symbol of mental entanglement.
Mumon’s Flaire and an Old Woman’s Tea
Fire as a transformative force figures prominently in these stories: the burning candle, suddenly out, plunges both teacher and pupil into the stark reality of night. Tokusan’s flaming commentary, even the old woman’s cooking fire, are metaphors for enlightenment. Enlightenment burns suddenly. It is only understood through experience.
But the poet Mumon attributes Tokusan’s entrance to the path of Enlightenment to the simple words and logic of an old village woman. Perhaps the real story here is that language, logic and learning points the way, until it doesn’t. Some concepts can be understood and studied. Others must be experienced. How do we know the difference? By observing what’s useful.
Personally I like the fact that Mumon evokes this old village woman: he shows we do not have to be monks living in monasteries to experience enlightenment. We can also be old village women who read sutras on occasion, but also brew tea and bake treats. Tokusan owes as much to her as to Ryutan.
Zoom Dinnertime Conversation on Belief, Education and Experience
Interestingly enough, we had dinner over Zoom with a good friend, G., who edited a local atheist publication for about two years. He has long held that irrational belief, or, in his view, religion, is the root cause of many of our current societal disasters and woes. A lack of understanding of history dooms us to repeat its mistakes. Adhering to superstition or simple short-term financial benefits over what we know from science has left us with both a damaged environment and damaged health.
Belated birthday gifts from G. to my husband and me; these will be fun reads.
He is undergoing chemotherapy for cancer, is in his sixties, and has health issues on top of his cancer. He’s concerned about the state of the world as well as his own health. Although he views the coronavirus pandemic as just barely a pandemic, through the lens of history, he sees it as a personal threat to one like himself. He described compared the coronavirus pandemic to both the Spanish flu and the Medieval European plague, and found it less worrisome from this perspective. However, since chemotherapy has compromised his own immune system, he’s certainly afraid of catching it. He is exactly the demographic most likely to die from it.
G. threw out a statistic about how many persons, in the US and Europe, do not accept that the earth is round, or that the earth rotates around the sun. He also gave examples from his days as a community college teacher of young adult students not knowing when Jesus lived, or when slavery in the US ended. Finally, he gave examples of ignorance among elected officials. He concluded that education, itself, is not valued enough in our country.
Reading versus Doing
G. grew up in Quebec and has a particularly dim view of the Catholic Church. We talked about how some people cannot be reached with reason. G. summed it up as follows: “If persons did not arrive at a particular opinion through reason, they can’t be swayed from it through reason.” We discussed how experience, your own or that of others close to you, influences most of us more than any amount of study or reason.
He used the shifting cultural norms around LBGTQ persons as an example. Forty years ago, most people in the US did not support gay marriage. Many viewed homosexuality as a kind of aberration. Today, a majority of Americans see it more as they view left-handedness: a minority of people are simply born this way. G. attributes this shift to the recent openness of LGBTQ persons themselves. Previously, gay persons hid their identity and now they do not. As a result, most Americans have a family member or friend who identifies that way. This personal experience with gay family and friends, in his opinion, shifted public opinion towards acceptance.
Again, enlightenment comes in the form of direct experience, and not though education, basically a form of inferred experience of others over time. I did not bring up Buddhism or Zen in the discussion with G., but suspect he would feel similar to me on combining the fruits of scholarship with fire.
Bearded Dragons: a Tangent
Kalessin reflects on herself
So S celebrated his thirteenth birthday last Wednesday, and this little critter was his present. He named her Kalessin, for the oldest dragon in Ursula K. Le Guin’s Earthsea series. We call her Kali for short.
Learning to care for a reptile is a challenge. Luckily, there is a wealth of information on-line about the care of these creatures. We also purchased an excellent book on bearded dragon care with a gift certificate from his aunt.
Last week, she was not active. We worried her terrarium was too cold. The pet shop, Burbank Scales and Tails, kindly replaced the bulb with a warmer, better one free of charge. They were ready with advice when my son called, too. This past weekend, however, our terrarium thermometer indicates the bulb heats her home too much! We have ordered a light stand, so we can adjust its distance. Now, we’re using wood blocks or wash cloths wrapped in duct tape to prop it higher.
Kali on her first day in our home
I am thankful that we can rely on the experience of others, in the form of books, on-line articles and discussions with the knowledgable staff at Burbank Scales and Tails. Given none of us have prior personal experience in reptile care, we’re glad others are willing to educate us.
What does any of this have to do with Karate?
Everything! This is a karate blog, so of course we’ll examine how it relates to karate. Learning karate, like achieving enlightenment or learning to care for a pet bearded dragon, is half personal experience and half learning from others. Studying from karate is not the same as practicing karate. Practicing karate, however, requires the study of karate to be complete.
I recently finished Oyama’s book, “This is Karate.” So much great information is contained in its pages, as well as cool photos of Oyama and his students. So much Japanese terminology, history and philosophy lives within those pages. Reading it gives me impressions of our style’s founder that I would not have had otherwise. I picked up Oyama’s book, however, after learning who Oyama was in Sensei’s dojo.
That said, there is no substitute for attending my Sensei’s physical dojo for roughly eight years, and practicing with my instructors and fellow students. I’ve learned how to block better by fending off strong blows from TF. Watching Sensei M showed me just how hard a scholar can kick! Our dojo has had many strong women and intelligent men among its udancha, and each of them imparted some wisdom to me, through words, demonstrations, blows, blocks, kicks and their grace in the face of conflict or hardship.
I owe a lot to my Sensei. He showed me how wise, disciplined and strong children could be. It was a joy to watch S and F grow under his instruction. He showed me how to break bricks, and how to reach 100 push-ups, sit-ups and squats. He showed me how to earn a black belt. Most importantly, he demonstrated why the study of karate was valuable.
From Sensei’s Bonsai Class Exhibition in December 2017
As of late, my karate-related reading has raised questions in my mind about both karate and Zen. I’m now in the section of Zen Flesh, Zen Bones that translates Chinese classic from the thirteenth century, the Gateless Gate. Perhaps its older, Chinese origins and ideas present more of a barrier for me.
Maha-Kashapa is enlightened when Buddha twirls a flower in another koan; also note the flower is a circle around a point.
The first tale is short: a monk asks Joshu the master if a dog has Buddha-nature. From there, the stories grow increasingly strange: a former Zen master, unable to correctly answer a student’s question, is transformed into a fox for five hundred rebirths; Master Gutei chops off the finger of a boy imitating him; Kyogen’s fatalistic image of a man hanging by his teeth from a tree over a precipice. Yes, the fingerless boy finds enlightenment. The fox-master gains enlightenment and release through listening to another teacher. Kyogen’s caution against words, while acknowledging our human predicament of needing words to transmit Zen teachings, encourages us to engage koans at the level of experience rather than thought or language.
However, to me these stories feel less accessible than those within 101 Zen Stories. 101 Zen Stories includes anecdotes by Nyogen Senzaki, who lived much later, and helped bring Zen Buddhism to the U.S. So maybe the issue is really my lack of understanding and familiarity with Zen’s Chinese roots.
Karate’s Kempo Roots
Nature is full of circles around points; it appears in animals as well as plants
Oyama, at the end of This is Karate, considers karate’s debts to Zen and Chinese kempo. In fact, Oyama states of his day’s karate trends: “the tendency is to use the straight line and the sharp angle rather than the point and the circle” (pg. 329). Kempo’s use of point and circle, to his mind, is more effective. He writes, “Though it may appear weaker, the point and circle method is actually the more powerful of the two, and it has more advantages when you shift from one technique to another” (327). Accordingly, he introduced several kempo hand and fist positions, as well as tensho, into his students’ karate practice.
Oyama goes on to support his assertion of the strength of the point and circle methods. While in Japanese karate, the karateka blocks and stops an enemy’s blow, says Oyama, the Chinese kempo artist blocks and repels the enemy’s blow (327). According to Oyama, the point and circle survive through many effective karate techniques. He wrote, “…in all karate moves for the hands, feet, or for the entire body, the motion is centered on a point around which we make a gentle arcing move.”
Certainly all of my Kyokushin karate instructors emphasized using your whole body for strikes and blocks. From Sensei to the black belts who led class, they all agreed on this point. When you use your hips, you use your whole body to support a move. For advanced students, we emphasize the “hikite,” or opposite hand, as much as we do the the striking hand. Every strike is stronger with an opposite “draw back.” The draw back winds up for a strike or block. With every move, we engage the whole body. The whole body is a circle revolving around a point, focusing our energy to support punches, kicks, blocks or strikes.
Chinese Koans and Karate
Even the rainbow is a circle in progress. What is its point?
This brings me back to the Chinese koans, which are just as much the basis of Japanese Zen Buddhism as kempo is to Kyokushin karate. They are intended to be hard and strange, in order to break the mind open for enlightenment. The author, reputedly Mumon, will often, in his commentaries, apparently contradict the point of the original koan. His ending poems, however, offer humor and a fig leaf back to the koan, and the reader. They circle about a point, like kempo, but the reader might need to use his or her hips, rather than head, for understanding.
Karate, like nature, may combine angles and straight lines to form circles about points.
I went through with my original plan but it wasn’t terribly practical. At 6:45am, I got up and did exercises. Sensei texted, too, and I spent some time answering. When I finished, I decided to go back to bed. Since I’d not gone to bed very early last night, getting up early was not the best plan. For tomorrow, I will go to bed early and wake up when I wake up. Rather than exercises, I’ll focus on kata and syllabus. We also have karate class tomorrow evening.
In one of my dreams, we had to move the shodan test to a small, outdoor concrete patio. It looked cramped and uncomfortable. I also dreamed about work but no longer remember those parts.
Sensei had scheduled a work-out for testers in the figure 8 park today. He wasn’t feeling well and decided not to come. Being ill also had him worried about COVID-19, so he texted the group he would get tested.
T offered to meet us in the park so we could still practice.T, TF, B and I met together. For her intensive Summer Honors English course, F has multiple essays due this week. She decided to sit out this one. That was probably a smart move on her part, because we practiced about three hours. We did a good amount of socializing, too. Still, we did the kata walk, and even did the syllabus walk. In addition, we went over Bo Sono Ichi and Ni. We also did the two ura katas we needed. B and T practiced Kanku. After B left, TF and I ran the Pinans again, to polish them, and T gave us tips to clean them up.
It was after 6:30pm by the time I got home, but I felt good about the practice, and it was just so nice to see TF and T, as well as B.
Good news: Sensei reported that his COVID-19 test came back negative. He even texted a photo, he was so happy. We were all relieved for him. It would be one thing to have to delay the shodan and nidan tests, but Sensei is not a spring chicken–contracting this illness at his age is pretty scary. Each decade of your life adds to the probability that you would have complications, and though he’s not elderly, he’s old enough that it is scary. Given what I know from my cousin’s experience with it, I’m scared of it, too. But, to the best of our knowledge, none of us have it.
I did not do exercises tonight given our pretty extensive practice session. For this evening and tomorrow, I need to focus on getting plenty of rest, not inadvertently injuring myself, and prepare for Saturday.
Oh, the “Zen Flesh, Zen Bones” story from last night actually read like a joke: a cook in a monastery was in a great hurry. Along with the grasses and grains he grabbed for the evening soup, he inadvertently picked up a snake, and chopped it up along with his vegetables for the stew. The monks loved the stew: it was the best tasting soup they’d had in a long time. Everyone was happy until the head master pulled a snake head from his bowl and called the cook over, “What is this?” The cook, quick on his feet, grasped the snake head and popped it into his mouth, then bowed with a “Oh, thank you, Master!”
I set the alarm for 7:00am and was downstairs closer to 7:20 am. I did exercises, then rushed to be at a dentist appointment by 8:00 am. Upon returning home, I had time to stretch, clear dishes and write in my journal before clocking into work by 10:00 am.
At work, we had a “good-bye” lunch for our head of technology over Zoom. He’s really good, and my coworkers and I are all sorry to see him leave.
Yesterday, I called V, a work friend currently furloughed. (Actually I have posted pictures of her kumquats on this blog.) We discussed the departure of our supervisor. She speculated about the usual work politics issues, particularly given the current re-structuring our company is experiencing. She told me something I had no idea about, however. From an artist friend, she heard one of our business units is requiring digital artists to show up in person and work in the building. Actually, another work friend said he’d been offered a job at this business unit. He debated whether or not to take it for that reason. Moreover, she’d heard that the digital artists were given letters claiming they are “essential workers” that must be on-site. Given that our business unit is a rather large team of digital artists working from home, that’s simply not true.
According to V, the client who hired this particular unit pressured them into keeping the artists on-site for “security” reasons. Basically, they value the secrecy of their story, or the look of their characters, etc., above any risks working on-site poses to the health of artists and their families.
I don’t know what to say about the skewed values and lack of ethics at play there. From my perspective, it’s “bully” behavior. The effects house could refuse to work that way, and then the client would have to find someplace else to go. And if others are equally firm and ethical, there would be no where to go. That is one of the lessons of karate: you have to stand up to bullies. If you don’t, they’ll keep bullying.
Spider Lilies
Okay, on a less sad note, last night’s story from “Zen Flesh, Zen Bones” was a good one. An emperor convinces a Zen monk, Kakua, known for being elusive and shy, to preach at his court. The monk appears before the emperor and his court. He takes out a flute, plays a single, brief note, and disappears. All the more reason to insist we do what we can to preserve life: it is over too soon.
I set the clock for 7:30am last night and rose closer to 7:45am, which was earlier than yesterday. Doing exercises first thing in the morning is challenging. I confess I did a bit of sweeping to warm up. It is nice to have them out of the way early.
It’s street cleaning day. The old purple car is in the driveway rather than on the street, giving me a chance to take a few pictures of our house. Actually, if you stand across the street from our house, you don’t see much of the house. The camphor tree has filled out once more and looks like a lollipop tree. It is flanked on either end by large spider lilies, also dong well. During the drought, we almost lost that tree, and very little grew next to it. Now it’s lush.
Sensei taught class, and we had a “ripening” promotion for L. L and I traded off calling kihon. Her feet are still healing, so Sensei had given her some modified exercises to do. Her modified version of 4th kyu syllabus was really cool. We should ask her to teach the rest of us! She did pass her promotion with flying colors (green being the primary one in this case.)
F and I got in exercises with L, while she did her requirements. After class, I made up the rest I “owed” for my rank. I also got in some kata practice during my lunch hour.
I did some thinking about that “Zen Flesh, Zen Bones” story that I wrote about yesterday. The religious traditions I have studied more extensively, I admit, are heavily text-centered. Judaism, along with Christianity and, I believe, Islam, each put emphasis on their scriptures and written commentary. Writings may not influence so heavily other religious traditions. Some traditions emphasize the transmission of teachings or spirituality through experience and interaction. Zen Buddhism certainly seems to do this. So my bookish shock over the loss of old writings is probably a bias on my part. Shoju was intent on preserving another kind of tradition, and would not allow the honoring of things (old writings) to usurp the seeking and/or experience of enlightenment.
But I don’t disavow my love and appreciation for old texts. Writings are, after all, communications from people, however imperfect. Someone somewhere decided to write something down, and because of this, we can hear voices that are two thousand years old. How cool is that?
Promotion week! In the past, the ichi kyu testing for shodan would do the “kata walk:” all the required katas, along with the flexibility test, on Tuesday night. Usually on Friday night, s/he would teach a course on self-defense, and demonstrate some techniques. Sensei is not likely to be on the Zooms for Tuesday for Friday night. T, however, could call on either TF, F or me to demonstrate techniques.
In the dojo’s distant past, probably under the IKO, I’m guessing, it could be the same day. So, after ten rounds of kumite, the ichi kyu may have to do the kata walk and break boards. Sensei seems to be planning something more along those lines, substituting a rigorous cardio work-out for kumite.
All the ichi kyus, after the dojo’s closure, have been teaching a lot over Zoom. None of us, unless we spar with family members, have really been able to practice kumite. Many of our students have little space for kata that travel, since they are doing what they can in bedrooms and living rooms. F, S and I are fortunate to have a back yard, and each other, for practice.
Once the pandemic ends, we hope to schedule a “make-up” ten round kumite match, or, in T’s case and possibly B’s case, a twenty-man or woman fight. I am not certain B will test for Nidan this Saturday, but I suspect she will help judge. I sure hope so. She is sharp.
This morning, I did exercises before cleaning. It was tough! My usual routine of cleaning first must get me moving and help my mind get going. For the next few days, I plan to get up a bit earlier, and start with exercises. Hopefully, by Saturday, F and I will be able to get up early and not have such a shock to the system. The actual test is scheduled early.
I also did jump-rope interval training and practiced the ura katas, along with Tsuki No Kata, Yonsu, and Gekisai Dai and Sho. D took the kids to the orthodontist, so they didn’t practice with me. Doing these kata in sneakers isn’t easy. I have better balance in bare feet. In the evening, I did my second set of exercises.
This week, I will also take some time off work, but not as much as I’d originally hoped. However, given I’ve been on reduced hours, and the reality that we may have more lay-offs, etc., I will work while I can.
Yesterday, we held our usual Sunday planning meeting for the martial arts club. One big topic of discussion: a Zoom sleep-over and movie being planned by the Youth Council. We also had a potential guest instructor join our meeting for a bit, and we spoke with him about teaching over Zoom.
D and I also had a bit of a debate over a story from “Zen Flesh, Zen Bones” on Sunday. The story is called “What are you doing?! What are you saying?!” In a nutshell, a Zen master, Mu-nan, wants to give his successor, Shoju, a book containing commentaries from masters going back seven generations. Shoju politely declines the book, saying he is satisfied with the way he received Zen from Mu-nan, which was orally. Mu-nan offers again and Shoju persists. Finally Mu-nan insists, saying Shoju can use the book as a symbol of receiving Zen teachings. Shoju thrusts the book into burning coals as soon as he receives it. Mu-nan shouts, “What are you doing?!” Shoju responds, “What are you saying?!”
Of course the lesson is non-attachment to things, regardless of the age or quality of the thing. I get it. But it’s a hard story to hear in the days when ancient Buddha statues have been dynamited by extremists of other religions. Also, in my American culture, burning books calls up all sorts of bad connotations: censorship, close-minded people, Orwellian societal mind-control–similar to our views of those who blow up ancient statues. Surely, Shoju, knowing that destroying that book would cause pain, could have figured out a way to be free of its possession without setting it on fire?
For some reason, I was more tired than usual today. I had really vivid dreams, though. My sister and I were staying with cousins in Beebe, Arkansas. Our oldest cousin was pregnant in the dream, and we were celebrating. C, my sister, had built a kind of wind chime out of string and an umbrella. She spun it. I untangled the strings from the spokes, while it was moving. In the dream, I was so fast, I could do it, and just like in the Matrix, the spokes of the spinning umbrella appeared slow enough for me to straighten the string attached to chimes. I credit my super-dream speed to karate.
Dreaming of a childhood home, though, usually makes me introspective. Interrupted sleep, which probably makes the memory of dreams possible, is, most likely, the tired factor.
Nevertheless, I did exercises this morning and after work. During the forty chest push-ups in the morning, (following the required sixty tricep ones), I went to my knees early, after fewer than fifteen. Yesterday I had managed to stay up for half. Once again, I used pebbles to keep up with the count for one hundred sit-ups, and that worked out better today: no long pauses, and it kept me on track. What is there to say about squats with alternating punches, other than I’m still doing them? In the evening, I did manage to stay on my toes and fists for the sixty chest push-ups, but as soon as I was on the mat to do the forty tricep ones, I went to my knees early, too. I did not do regular sit-ups but my usual lower ab exercises.
I asked my husband, right after the second set of push-ups, “When do you think this will get easier? I’ve been doing this for a year, and it’s still not easy.” He had no answer. To be fair, I supposed doing twenty push-ups is easier now than a year ago. Actually I’m not certain about that: hopefully I’m at least faster.
I am still reading a tale from “Zen Flesh, Zen Bones” before bed. Last night’s tale was interesting, and short. A monk named Gasan said, “Those who preach against killing any sentient being are right…. What of those who kill time…. [And] what of the one who preaches without enlightenment? He is killing Buddhism!”
This is my second week of one hundred repetitions for my daily exercises.
At work, a friend had told me about a comic character called “One Punch Man,” who really does seem inspired by Masutatsu Oyama’s karate teachings. In theory, One Punch Man claims to have gotten his super powers by doing one hundred push-ups, sit-ups and squats, plus running for 10 km a day, for roughly a year and a half. That comes up if you just Google “One Punch Man,” under “how did One Punch Man get his powers?”
Though my requirement for push-ups is technically sixty, given that everything else is one hundred, I’m trying to get in a hundred, even if I have to do forty on my knees. If I were not doing push-ups on my fists, the requirement would be one hundred. H, who promoted to shodan last year, did do one hundred and advised me to go with doing push-ups on my fists.
I did do exercises before work and after work. That went well in the morning, though I did not leave myself enough time to do my usual ten minute write. Evening exercises were a different matter. My back-right thigh is still stinging some, so I did squats without alternating punches. I did try to work in some punches around fifty repetitions, and it just hurt. Most likely, the hip-twist I do while punching at the top of the squat is somehow messing with that sore muscle.
During my lunch break, I jogged for twenty minutes on the treadmill, with a warm-up and cool down. I am hoping that, on Wednesday, I’ll be up for jump rope intervals again, but not today.
Work is also worrying, given the lack of work at work. As I mentioned earlier, my company does visual effects for live action, which is not happening at the moment.
I was also saddened to learn on Sunday that one of my cousins unexpectedly lost her younger sister. She had the burden of informing her father and the rest of the family of their loss. These kinds of events remind us to be grateful for the family and friends we have and for our own health.
On a lighter note, one of the stories in “Zen Flesh, Zen Bones” reads like a joke. Soyen Shaku, the first Zen Master to teach in the United States, would take a nap every afternoon. This is according to his students in Japan.
One day, they asked him about it. He said, “I go to Dreamland to meet the old sages, just as Confucius did.”
One hot afternoon, the students, children at that time, also took a nap. Shaku scolded them upon finding them sleeping. The children answered, “We went to Dreamland to meet the old sages, just as Confucius did.”
“What was the message from those sages?” asked Shaku.
“We asked them if our schoolmaster came every afternoon to meet them, and they said they’d never seen any such fellow!” answered one wise child.
I did exercises. Managed to stay up on my toes through seventy reps now for “tricep” push-ups. Tomorrow I will time myself. Hopefully, with a little extra sleep, my times will be good. I thought about timing myself in the evening after work, but getting through exercises after work consistently is my evening goal. No use in muddying the mental waters with an extra expectation. Hopefully, after a week of rest, I’ll be able to increase the number of reps I can stay on my toes. Next month, I should start with sixty knuckle push-ups on the floor, then do forty on the mat.
I should also look up the spelling of mat. Mat or matte? Okay mat is the padding on the floor we use for exercising. It is also a tangle of hair. Matte refers to a decorative piece of material (though “mat” also works for this, too.) If in doubt, “mat” is most commonly used. “Matte” can refer to a metal mixture–that’s one I had not heard of. Here’s a link:
This morning, the air outside was damp and gave me hope for rain. I’ve watered the trees in the front, but the ones in the back also need watering.
Last night’s “Zen Flesh, Zen Bones” story was a bit odd. The first Zen Master to go to the United States Soyen Shaku, gave the following recommendations: go to bed and get up at the same time every day; have meals at the same time every day. Shaku also said, “Behave with guests the same way you would behave alone; behave alone the same way you would with guests.” He was all about consistency and developing healthy habits. Were we Americans, as a culture, already out-of-balance by the time Master Shaku visited in 1893? The seeds of our current disease, and also its cure, were evident to him so early?
I admit that, when I lived in Germany, life felt more balanced. The pace was humane rather than frenetic. France was also better than the US, but still a little crazy. Sometimes that French craziness was creative; other times dysfunctional. I am speaking, of course, of life as I experienced it in those places, as compared to my experiences in the United States. Admittedly, while culture holds sway over us, individual experiences can still differ greatly. My experience of Germany was right around the time of the Reunification; it was a joyful time, over all. Paris in the mid-1990’s felt like a big adventure to my husband and me, both in our mid-twenties. One’s age plays a role, too.
