"Come to Training Tomorrow" - an ancient post-modern Zen tale

 

Why do I go to Margit Island every Monday morning at 9:00 to engage in Martial Yoga training? Allow me to tell you an ancient post-modern Zen story to explain. 

Once upon a time in ancient China, or Thailand, or somewhere sufficiently Far-Eastern and exotic sounding (though maybe, come to think of it, this incident might actually have happened in Los Angeles or Budapest), there was a martial arts student named Wong, or maybe Charles. Now, Charlie had heard a rumor that his martial arts teacher, Wun Hung Lo (though everyone called him Larry) was in possession of a secret technique that he only taught to students he found to be diligent and honorable. 

One day, at the end of class, as Larry was about to slip through the beaded curtain that led to his private quarters, or the dojo office, Charlie shouted, “Wait a minute Sensei! (or Sifu, or Guruji, or whatever he called him).” 

“Yes, Charlie?”

“I was wondering if… if… (Charlie nervously played with the silk sleeve of the fancy Chinese training uniform that had been delivered by UPS the day before, while he stared at the floor)... if you considered me a diligent and honorable student?”

Larry gave Charlie a suspicious side eye. “Well, yes I do,” he said, (“...sort of”, he muttered under his breath.) “Why do you ask, Grasshopper, or padawan learner, or whatever I’m supposed to call you in this story?”

“Well, uh, I was wondering if you’d, uh, teach me the secret technique?”

A broad smile broke out on Larry’s face. “Oh! Of course! Come to training tomorrow!"

At which Larry disappeared through the beaded curtain. Charlie left the dojo very pleased.

The next day Charlie put extra effort into his training to impress his teacher with his worthiness. At the end of class he went up to Larry and asked, “Are you going to teach me the secret technique?”

“Yes. Come to training tomorrow.” At which he again slipped through the beaded curtain. Charlie was a bit put off, but he assumed Larry had a meeting with a local warlord or had an online chi kung class to teach that he’d forgotten the day before when he made his appointment with Charlie.

For an entire week, the same thing happened. Charlie showed up to class every day and trained like a demon, and his skills took a leap forward. After class he would ask about the secret technique, and Larry would say to come to training the next day.

Finally, one day Charlie flipped out. “WTF! Why do you keep brushing me off and lying to me, Larry?”

Larry smiled the benign indulgence of a Buddha, or the sly smile of a sitcom character who’d been set up with a great punchline. “But Charlie, I’ve been telling you the secret technique every day: Come to training tomorrow!”

And Charlie was enlightened… or not. But at least coming to training so often really improved his skills. 

OK. I’ll confess to being a bit facetious here. It’s actually true that some martial arts teachers have secret techniques that they won’t teach just anyone. 

But even those teachers would nod sagely if they heard this story, agreeing that the most important martial arts technique of them all, is to show up for training tomorrow. If you don’t train, you won’t learn squat. 

I can be found under a tree on Margit Island next to the Szabadtéri Szinpad (visible from the 26 bus stop of the same name) every Monday morning at 9:00. If you come, I will share with you the martial movement I have learned from aikido, tai chi, systema, karate and chi kung over the last 40+ years. My goal is to share those movements that promote health, flexibility and energy flow. And the movement exercises are regularly interspersed with seated meditation (I am a certified meditation teacher).

And who knows? Perhaps I will even show you the secret technique. Come to training.  

Yoga is a batch of fried rice

Pranayama, ruler exercise, pepper, soy sauce...

I confess I stole this idea. Well... maybe not stole it; just recognized the truth of it.

You see, I once attended an aikido workshop in Sacramento in the late 1980s taught by Hiroshi Ikeda, the last uchi deshi (apprentice) of Morihei Ueshiba, the founder of aikido. Ikeda sensei started the workshop out explaining how every household makes fried rice differently. (Fried rice is one of the solutions to the ubiquitous Far-East Asian problem of having lots of leftover cold rice.) He went on to talk about how, over the years, one learns various things from the many teachers and from the various experiences one has in life. If someone wants a presentation of what you know/practice, you throw pieces of your different life lessons into the hot, oiled pan (making sure that they harmonize with each other), stir them around, add fresh ground pepper (I put chopped garlic and ginger into the oil) and some soy sauce, and (voila!) you have your version of fried rice.

"So today, I humbly offer you MY fried rice," he said with a winning smile.

Now, I have never been the type of student of martial arts or any other physical discipline to be satisfied with only practicing in the school. That's partly because I'm not a particularly graceful or coordinated individual. I have to put more effort into learning physical movements than other people. But mostly I practice at home on my own because I want to make things my own. It's one thing to do something in a classroom while many other people are trying to do it and the clock is ticking away. It is totally another to be by oneself, out under the open sky, or in your own home, and having the time and peace to concentrate on what you wish to teach yourself, to absorb it into your bones. It's also satisfying to go back to class and be able to move on from the last lesson, rather than spend time and effort trying to remember what you learned earlier, or didn't learn, as the case may be.

So, for thirty years now, I have exercised every morning. And over time, the routine has constantly changed. The red thread running through every routine is that the exercises have to address breathing, balance, flexibility, and moving from the center. Depending on what my needs are in a given period of my life, I put together different routines that include elements of what I have learned from aikido (my primary discipline), tai chi, kigong, yoga, and systema (a Russian martial system). It is my fried rice. It includes the things I find at hand, combined with an eye toward harmony, with the ultimate aim of nourishing my body, mind and spirit.

When I was younger, if the subject of my morning routine came up, I disliked telling people that I "excercise". It conjures images of somebody doing push-ups, jumping jacks and sit ups. It didn't matter so much what kind of an impression this made on other people as that it didn't make me feel good about it. Sometimes I tried to describe what I do and it would be too complicated, and people's eyes would glaze over with incomprehension or boredom.

Finally I just started saying I do morning yoga. Which is actually the truth. Here's what you'll find about that word in the Online Etymological Dictionary:

...from Hindi yoga, from Sanskrit yoga-s, literally "union, yoking" (with the Supreme Spirit), from PIE root *yeug- "to join" (see jugular).

I do these exercises to integrate myself internally, and with my highest ideals. They are my yoga. They are my fried rice.

If you ever come to one of my Dream Warrior Training workshops, I'll serve you a helping.

There is power in paradoxes

"Spiritual Warrior" by Rita Loyd. See more at
 http://www.nurturingart.com/index.html

"I think you should come up with another name," said my friend Nick, when I told him about my plans for the Dream Warrior Training workshops. "I don't like the trend toward militarization in contemporary world culture. You should find a better word than 'warrior'."

I explained that in other languages the word for warrior doesn't necessarily refer directly to war. "Well it does in English, doesn't it?"

I thought about this for a while, and although it conjures difficult images, I decided to stick with the name. Not in spite of the problematic nature of the title "warrior", but because of it. It's a paradox that needs to be embraced.

There's power in paradoxes.

Let me give you an example.

In the art of aikido, along with the empty-hand techniques -- consisting of joint locks and throws in reaction to a physical attack -- we also learn how to fence with wooden swords shaped like the traditional Japanese samurai sword. These moves be can reproduced with no weapon in the hands, and are still amazingly effective in influencing the motions of another person, either throwing them or locking them in a pin.

"As opposed to true contradictions, paradoxes only "seem" to cancel each other out. Instead, they are a fruitful marriage of opposites."

Once, when I was attending a workshop taught by Koichi (Larry) Barrish, he described these empty-handed motions that imitate sword movements (called aiki sword) as "the sword so sharp it cuts things back together again." Logically, it makes no sense. But for me, this paradoxical statement perfectly captured the ability of these techniques to resolve conflict without perpetuating disharmony.

I noticed the power of paradoxes in my early twenties. Ever since, I've been on the lookout for things that seem to be contradictions, but actually act as a mask for a profound truth. As opposed to true contradictions, paradoxes only "seem" to cancel each other out. Instead, they are a fruitful marriage of opposites.

It makes me think of the time a friend stated, "The martial artists I know are some of the friendliest and kindest people in my life." I contemplated that remark and realized it was true of the people in my life, too. (And, yes, the few asshole martial artists I know are the exception that proves the rule.)

I am a warrior. I am a man who lives from the heart and seeks to express love in his actions.

I am a paradox. I embrace that.

A thousand years of Dream Warriors

This falls into the category of, "I'm not making this stuff up, folks!"

At first I thought combining dreamwork, martial movement and writing practice under one umbrella as "Dream Warrior Training" was a brilliant, revolutionary new idea. But slowly it dawned on me that there have actually been many traditions through history in which trained warriors were expected to also be refined individuals with skills and sensitivities honed by the arts and sciences.

Your average Roman army officer, for example (at least during the Republic period, and the early Empire period)  was a nobleman who'd been raised on poetry. He was familiar with and could recite a catalogue of verse. And very likely he evened penned a few himself occasionally.

But more immediately relevant to the themes of Dream Warrior Training is the lifetime of Chen Tuan (10th century AD). Chen Tuan is revered in Chinese culture as one of the great Taosist sages. He is credited with inventing and/or refining the movements that have come down to us as kung fu (which the Chinese actually call wushu; wu=martial + shu=art) and qigong. He is also famous for being a pioneer and master of "sleep meditation"; a cousin of what is popularly known as "dream yoga" nowadays. Dream yoga is the version of this discipline practiced by Tibetan Buddhist monks.

There is a surprising amount material on the internet about Chen Tuan and his sleep meditation practices, since he was as central a figure to Chinese spiritual history as, say, St Francis or Martin Luther are in the West.

Dream warriors have existed since the beginning of the human race.

Just imagine a prehistoric man sleeping with his companions by the embers of a fire. The stars sparkle over their heads, as he dreams of stalking a magnificent elk with golden antlers. In his dream he quietly raises his spear to shoulder level. Takes aim...   

The dream of the two dojo

When I woke up that morning and realized I'd had the same dream for the third time, I knew this was a deeper life issue.

The dream, entitled "The Two Dojo*" in my dream journal, starts out at a very traditional Japanese aikido school. The decor is spartan, and the only colors are black and white (like the white uniforms and black hakamas of the students). The teacher is painfully strict, and everyone is deadly serious. They practice with stony sober expressions on their faces. Later in the dream I find another school, where the environment is as colorful as a rainbow, and everyone is laughing and having a great time while they train. I instantly feel this is where I'd rather train.

Initially, this recurring dream affected where I chose to train and how I taught aikido classes at my own school. But, as with all "big dreams", there were multiple levels of meaning within it.

Now, almost a quarter of a century later, I realize this dream heralded the path I would follow later in my life once I had conceived of the unique self-development mode I've dubbed Dream Warrior Training. The essential principle behind DWT is that martial training**, dreamwork, and the discipline of journaling (writing for the purpose of exploring the mind), have potent powers for transforming the individual who practices them in combination. My mission is to lead workshops that enable people to benefit from the insights this combined activity can deliver. It is nearly impossible to spend time doing these three disciplines together -- even if only for a day or two -- without coming to some new, life-enhancing realizations.

This is the colorful dojo where everyone laughs and trains joyfully, even though the subject matter is of vital importance.

Whether or not you wish to, some day, participate in this mode of training, the purpose of this blog is to share with you my own insights gained from a life informed by the daily pursuit of these three treasures. If you are interested in dreams, in the wisdom that can be found within our bodies, or in the power to be discovered in using the written word (or any combination of the three), the postings to come in this blog will be just the sort of thing you're looking for.

And though I will engage in a certain amount of curating -- that is: linking and commenting on things I find on the internet -- my well-established blogging habit consists of telling stories relating to my own experience. I know that my own taste in blogs runs to the writers who generate original material, not those who just echo the rest of the cyber noise. I suspect you, astute reader, have similar tastes. If you have a feed reader, perhaps you should subscribe now, to follow this story from the beginning.

Welcome to The Dream Warrior, where insights are inevitable, and laughing is encouraged.  

*A dojo is a place where a spiritual discipline (in Japanese "do", like the Chinese "dao") is practiced.

**specifically the motions and breathing practices that awaken consciousness and enhance one's energies, which I call "martial yoga"