I'm Butch

 

(thanks for the inspiration Porl)

"You could stop, you know...you could just quit...", he said. "You have enough money, you don't need the stress." I had a big week ahead of long, long days and nights with the global team arriving that morning. I kept looking at my phone nervously. He noticed. This was the part of the lunch with my friend I always dreaded...the part when he tells me all the mistakes I make. It can take a long time.

He was right. I could stop. I could just quit. I have enough money. I don't need the stress. He was right. He's usually right.  So why didn't I??

He described the life he imagined I would have if I quit...idyllic days and nights filled with warm and comforting family times. Good conversations, good food.  Good times. Hearing him tell it it sounded great.

I wish it was always like that but frankly it isn't. Relationships are hard work sometimes, even relationships with your kids. Life at home is not always peaceful and comforting. Sometimes, to be honest, it is easier and more comforting to be in the office. He conceded that. He rarely concedes anything.

I told him what I missed most. What comforted me most. What was always glad to see me, welcomed me at the door, never judged me or criticized me. What loved me unconditionally. Not what...WHO.

My Butch.

Butch is what I miss most, what I was always looking to come home to. I miss sitting on the couch with him nestled in my lap, or lying down with him snuggled next to me, his little nose breathing softly. It's not the same since he has gone. It never will be. Nothing and no one could ever replace him. I told my friend with tears in my eyes. I held Butch at the exact moment when he died, right there in my arms. When he went I wanted to go with him...I didn't want to be left behind...it hurt too much.

That's when my friend dropped the bomb." Now you are Butch", he said. My jaw dropped. I tried to process it.

"You really are", he continued. "Now it's your turn to be there to love and comfort others. Now it's your job to welcome everyone home and to give them the same unconditional love Butch gave you." By this point the tears were rolling down my cheeks. I was starting to have trouble breathing. My chest felt heavy, tight.

"The best way to honor and remember him is to take the best parts of what he meant to you and live them for others. If you do this, Butch will always live on. Not just in your heart and in your thoughts but in your actions as well."

He was right of course. He's usually right. I hate when he's right. It is a blessing to have really smart and wise friends to advise me, but sometimes it's also a pain in the ass.

No, I'm not quite done grieving for Butch. However, the love, support and advice from my friends is helping me deal with it and learn to move forward.

I'll try to be Butch.

It Hurts

 

(I managed to find a picture showing exactly where it hurts - haha)

痛いです。(it hurts). Last week Wednesday I found out I have a pinched nerve in me neck/shoulder. What happened?  Maybe it was the cheap seats on the plane ride back from Taipei. Maybe it was stress. Maybe it was bad posture at the computer for long hours.  No idea.

How did I find out? It started as a dull, numbing pain, like what you get after too much exercise. By Thursday it was much more - like being stabbed in the trapezius and the knife being slowly twisted back and forth. The pain was deep and completely unbearable. It would spasm, and the pain made my eyes water. I couldn't sleep because I would roll onto that side and the pain would wake me up. I could work (yes I still had deadlines to meet and meetings to do) but only 15-20 minutes at a time and would then have to lie down until the pain subsided. I kept my camera off during meetings so they wouldn't see my face grimace when it would spasm. I went to the clinic on Saturday and the doctor gave me two weeks of pain meds (Voltaren 25mg capsule - in case Dr. Jay reads this). It hasn't helped. It still hurts as I write this.

Guro David kept talking about acceptance when we were at the Legacy Camp in September. It was such a beautiful time, with beautiful souls. Walks and talks, sharing and openness, perfect weather, nature, great music, days of intense training with world-class instructors, delicious food with the best human beings. The power, the connection, the energy was so high and so complete. I felt seen, loved, respected. I felt HOME. It was one of the best experiences of my life. When life is good it's so easy to talk about acceptance. Who wouldn't accept such perfect days and nights?? We nod our heads and smile and think "yes, I could accept this. This life...of course".

But now I am in pain constantly. The question I keep asking is "Can I accept this?" It's a much harder question. Part of me wants to run away, escape, hide, cry. "Can I accept this?" YES  As a Buddhist, and as Guro David explained, acceptance is a requirement to be in the moment. Right here, right now. Even if it hurts, it's very important to acknowledge that pain, accept it as a natural part of life, and allow it to run its course. Yes, sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it hurts a lot. However, sometimes it also feels good and I feel happy. The practice of Zen is designed to help us understand that we should not be obsessed or attached to such things because no matter what they are, they are temporary - just as we are, too.

For many of us, there is psychological/emotional pain as well. Sometimes together with physical pain, sometimes on its own. Like physical pain, emotional pain can be debilitating if we let it. Sometimes, the emotional pain is far worse because it can stay longer and exist unseen to the people around us. Mental health is every bit as important, if not more so, than physical health. Sadly, sometimes the emotional pain can cause us to want to run away permanently. Physical pain can do this too, and there is a real discussion to be had about dignity in death and assisted suicide for those with terminal illness, for example. I sincerely hope this is never a consideration for those with psychological/emotional pain. Good, expert mental health care is critically important. 

Over the past weeks, I have transitioned from emotional pain (grief over losing my Butch) to physical pain (pinched nerve). Not the best of times. Still, I remain positive. My training helps me remain calm even though it hurts. I take deep breaths and I focus. I know it will pass. My grief, my pain are all just steps on a path and soon I will step forward from them and leave them behind. One day I will leave it all behind, so until then I want to keep moving forward toward where I need to go - my mission. I won't let pain stop me.

They say faith is worthless until it is tested. Then testing is a good thing. Now I know. I am strong. I am unbreakable. I am a Peaceful Warrior.

See you at class.

Good Grief

 

These days, I grieve.

I lost my dog, Butch, at 15 years old a few weeks ago and I am still sad about it. The grief is not a constant flood of tears like it was in the first few days after it happened. Still, not a single day goes by that I don't think about him or miss him. I listen for his footsteps and reach over to pet him where he used to be, right next to me. Always. I feel a profound emptiness.

Everyone has tried to console me these past few weeks and I am very grateful for that. They tell me how lucky I was. How I was lucky to enjoy so many years with such a good boy (I know). They tell me how lucky I was that he went quickly, that I was there to hold him in his last moments, watching him take his final breath. They tell me how lucky I am that I wasn't at work or on a business trip or at the store or anywhere else.  They tell me how lucky I am that he didn't die alone at the vet. They tell me how lucky I am that he knew how much we loved him and treasured him.  He knew how important he was and how much his life mattered to us. All this is true. I do feel lucky. But honestly, it doesn't help much.

I grieve. And that's OK. In fact, I think grief is good.

Grief is only possible when we care; when we love. I have only ever felt grief for those very close to me. The worst were my foster parents. Then my foster brother. Losing them felt like being shot or stabbed. When my foster mom died and my foster dad called to tell me the news (in all my years in Japan he only called once) I felt real physical pain. I fell to the ground wailing and I couldn't move. My friend had to come and stay with me for a few days since I couldn't even get out of bed. It's funny when I realize I spent more time with Butch than I did with my foster mom. The pain was the same but I am 30 years older and more resilient now. I have tried not to let my heart harden and to remain compassionate. I think after everything I am more able to accept my emotions and allow them their place.

We all deal with grief in our own way, and there is no set recipe for getting through it. Likewise, there is no  timeline or timetable that can help us. It takes as long as it takes and it hurts as much as it does.

For some, the pain is unbearable and they try to escape it through drinking, taking drugs, fucking. Whatever. Any kind of love or pleasure to combat the overwhelming feelings of pain and loss. Anything to try and fill up the emptiness. I get it. I can't judge anyone else for how they deal with grief. To each their own I suppose.

I don't want to run away or look away. I don't want to escape the pain. In fact, I want it. I want to feel it all. Completely. I know that the only way is to go forward. Through the pain and emptiness to the other side. If I allow distraction in whatever form it will just take that much longer to heal. There are no shortcuts or lifehacks or tricks for this. There is only patience and time, as much as it takes.

Life in martial arts, especially when it is anchored in Zen practice, helps. We are no strangers to death since we study it intimately. The Path tells us that it can be our time anytime on any day, and Zen encourages us to be in the moment fully so as not to experience regret when that moment comes, and it will come for all of us. Certainly my Butch lived in the moment. Zen is not morbid, only accepting of death as part of the natural order of things, not to be feared but to be remembered and reflected upon in order to give this impermanent life greater meaning and purpose. In Buddhism we consider the soul as immortal and so the loss of the physical form can be thought of more as a transition back to our natural state, Light. Once Butch died I no longer thought of his physical body, which we cremated the following day. His sprit had left and that shell was empty. He was free, his mission fulfilled. I know this and it comforts me, but only a little. The pain is still great. He was such an important part of this phase of my life. So many precious memories.

I miss you, little one. I think I always will. and that's OK. Grief is good.

Butch (about Acceptance)

 

(thank you for the inspiration GD)

Yesterday at 09:45 my faithful companion of 15 years, Butch, died. He had a massive heart attack and slipped away in my arms. I watched the light in his eyes fade... and he was gone. Just the evening before he had gone on his walk as per usual, slower now that he was older. In the morning he was sitting next to me, sharing my morning bread as he always did. 30 minutes later he had passed away, closing a very important chapter in all of our lives. Today we cremated him and his remains took their place next to our Xie Xie, who died 11 months earlier to the day.

At the Kali Majapahit Legacy Camp in Travelers Rest, SC we started every day with a 7am walk on the beautiful campus of Furman University. It was a time for meditation and movement, filled with deep conversations that would set the tone for the rest of the busy day of training sessions. I was always glad to spend that time with my brother, Guro David from Espoo, Finland. Like me, he has a background that is anchored in the Japanese traditional arts and it is part of his personal philosophy. He is a keen observer and able to break apart complex ideas into simple things that everyone, including me, can easily understand. I always learn so much from him.

On one morning, as the sun was rising, Guro David was talking about acceptance. This became one of the most important themes of the camp. We were engrossed in the conversation, relating this topic to every aspect of the Budo and our lives.

In Kali Majapahit, we train people to be changemakers. We prepare them to take responsibility for who and how they are, challenging them to accept a life of balance and health - mental/physical/emotional. Rather than complain, we teach them to activate and get engaged in making the changes that result in personal growth, in becoming the best version of themselves. We learn to make and keep promises both to ourselves and to others, proving again and again that we are achievers. By performing successfully in class consistently, we show that we can perform consistently in every other aspect of our lives. We learn that focused effort yields powerful outcomes and we become willing to invest the sweat it takes to make our dreams into reality. It was amazing to spend a week together with black belts from all over the world who had this in common. The positive energy was incredible, like being plugged into a giant battery. It was truly a room full of superheroes.

So what about acceptance then? Doesn't that mean sitting by passively and letting the world unfold without lifting a finger trying to change it??

Actually, NO.

There are two sides to change, which together create the whole. Just as Yin/Yang (陰陽）exist as two equal sides in Taoist philosophy. On one hand, we need to learn that many/most of what happens in life is outside our control or influence. Simply, the events cannot be changed. We are born, we grow old, we die. This process can be influenced to some degree but cannot be changed. Most importantly, we cannot change the karmic journey of others and cannot take their journey onto ourselves.  Depending on what flavor of Buddhism you believe, our own destinies are also pre-ordained and cannot be changed (Guro Fred deeply believed this). We must become who we are meant to become.

However, although we cannot change the events in our lives, we can control how we react to them. We can interpret these events in positive or negative ways and this in turn influences the tone of how we live. Some people have a tone that is decidedly negative and sad.  Every event that transpires is viewed through a lens that interprets it in the most negative and sorrowful way. Such people are usually sad and miserable. In a perverse way, maybe they feel validated by the misery they create for themselves, as if feeling sorry for themselves somehow absolves them of the need to take responsibility for their own lives and circumstance. They maintain that they are unlucky, cursed or that God hates them. This is the victim mindset.

By contrast, some people feel blessed by every event. Even difficult or sad occurrences are perceived as opportunities for learning, maturity and growth. Hardship is seen as a pathway to wisdom and a source of empathy and compassion for others. They feel that God grants the toughest challenges to those most able to bear the burden. They seem unbreakable and resilient even in the face of catastrophe. The events didn't change, but their interpretation of them did. This is the mindset of survivors and victors.

In the end, acceptance is about allowing every moment, every event, to happen without trying to alter them. It means not allowing lies to cloud the truth of what has been. It means not turning away from hardship or running from it. It means facing every challenge with eyes wide open, experiencing the moment fully and completely. It means being right here, right now. Always. Likewise, acceptance means not dwelling too much on the good events either. We know that these, too, will fade in time and we do not seek to hold onto them too tightly. We enjoy the moments, and allow ourselves to feel accomplishment without becoming drunk on pride or ego. Reality grounds us. Acceptance is the antithesis of attachment. Letting Go is a process of acceptance.  This is easy to talk about and hard to do in practice.

Yesterday I had to accept the loss of my beloved pet. This could not be changed. I had to let go. His spirit left yesterday morning as I looked into his eyes. Today, his body was burned and his remains returned to us for safekeeping. I will not dwell in the past but I will never, ever forget him. I will not cry for the future, but I will always wish I could have spent more of it with him. I will always wish for one more day, one more moment to share together. Mostly, I am grateful for the gift of his love and companionship during these 15 years. I was so incredibly lucky to be the human of such a perfect dog. He taught me so much and even in his dying breath showed me how to accept and to let go of this life with dignity and grace. I have understood the assignment. I will be ready when it is my turn.

Thank you Butch, my furry little Zen master. Please wait for me, I will see you again before too long.

Until then, RUN FREE 

What we Learn By Being Tested

 

(Thanks for the inspiration JP)

Testing is an important part of the KM rotating curriculum. Every three months we introduce, learn, practice and drill new material. At the end of the cycle, we test to see how well we have mastered it.

Testing is an opportunity to show growth and progress not just in our technique, but in our character. We show our intensity, our focus and our concentration. Sometimes the tests can be an hour or more, requiring continuous focus to perform. This is no small feat.

When we pass the test, we are recognized for our efforts, but are also allowed to feel a strong sense of accomplishment. We are building good habits, showing up for ourselves and fulfilling the promises we made to become a better version of who we were. Again and again we repeat this process of goal-setting and goal achievement, proving to ourselves that we are continuous learners and constantly improving. Doing this in the dojo shows we can do it outside the dojo. In our lives at home, at work/school and with our friends, we are able to evolve to become more authentic and more genuine - we learn to be present and to respect both ourselves and others. We become part of the Positive Light that brightens the world.

So what do we really want students to take away from a test??  It is a physical challenge, of course. In every cycle we introduce a lot of complex material that can be hard to remember. At the beginning of the cycle all of it is unfamiliar and gradually we commit it to muscle memory. We are continuously reviewing our basics and strengthening our foundation so that new movements and techniques are strong, too.

However, more than this we develop RESILIENCE. This is the ability to persevere in the face of difficulty. We learn to refocus/reset and recover when we are under stress and not to simply give in to pressure and fold. Sometimes a test just doesn't go as planned. The techniques and flow don't come easily. We get stuck. We feel frustration. There is high anxiety because we want to do our very best. Our mind races and we regret every training session we missed or that we did not review enough outside of class. We feel nervous and afraid of failure...

It is in these moments that we find the depth of our character. Under pressure, we rise. Unbroken, we breathe deeply and reframe ourselves. We focus on being right here/right now. We feel the connection to our practice and to our partner. We let go. We accept. WE FLOW.

As a teacher, I am always so proud to see students correctly execute the techniques of Kali Majapahit. They move with power and grace and seem able to handle every new challenge I give them. More than this, I am impressed by their courage and fortitude when the going gets tough. This gives me comfort that I am helping them develop skills that will bring them success outside the dojo, too.

Not every fight is in a dark alley and not every confrontation is physical. If we learn properly, we can use our martial arts training every single day. The Kali Majapahit experience helps us learn to manage stress and pressure, essential in many areas of our lives.

Thank you to all the students for reminding me of this and for showing me why what I do is so important.

Pugay Po

What I learned from last night's Cycle Test

 

After an exciting week at KM HQ in beautiful Travelers Rest, South Carolina, Guro Joe and I were back in Japan. The following day, we held our cycle test. The test was originally planned for August 31, but it just didn't happen.

Prior to leaving, a few unexpected issues arose. First of all, a major typhoon (ShanShan) threatened Japan that week. In the end, damage was minimal as at the last moment it veered away from the Greater Tokyo Metro Region. However, heavy rains and flooding still caused disruption to most public transportation and in the interest of safety, I made the decision to cancel the session. Secondly, I was invited to a business dinner with several board members from my key customer. My boss flew in from Singapore specifically for the event, so it could not be postponed. The dinner was a big success, but I again had to cancel class.  The following day, Guro Joe and I flew to the US for the Legacy Camp.

In all, the students were left without any dojo training sessions for about two weeks. I was very concerned that in the interim, without constant repetition, they might forget the material. During the prior three month cycle, we covered a wide variety of techniques ranging from single stick flow (sumbrada) to empty hands (Hakka Kuntao) to kickboxing. It's a lot to remember.

Last night I gave them the option to postpone the test in favor of a few more review sessions. Unanimously, they decided they wanted to go ahead as planned.

First of all, that decision represented the very best of the warrior spirit. In the face of adverse conditions, they showed the courage to move forward, letting go of fear and accepting the challenge - facing it head on rather than waiting for greater certainty. I applaud the confidence and dedication to moving forward. As a wise man said "Done is better than Perfect".

Secondly, it showed that even after a few weeks away from the dojo they largely remembered the techniques. That shows mastery. All too often in life, we fail to own the material beyond what it takes to pass a test. This is not the same as really knowing something. Knowledge committed to our long term memory remains with us sometimes for decades. Like the proverbial "riding a bike", some things are never forgotten. I am both proud and humbled that KM is important enough for them to have committed it to their muscle memory.

In the end, it was an amazing test. Focus, discipline, engagement. They had it all. Was it perfect? Of course not. As I told them, I have never had a perfect test either. I always walk away with a little regret, wishing I had done just a little better. However, for the most part the techniques were good, showing solid foundations and good understanding of the basic mechanics of KM.

I could not be more proud.

In the end, beyond simple technique,  our time in the dojo should build our resilience. It should help us learn to remain calm in the face of any challenge and to rise to adversity and face it like warriors.

Thank you again to the students for a great demonstration of this. Well done.

See you next week.

Losing

 

The Paris Olympics is in full force now, and there are so many emotional moments. Athletes give their all in pursuit of medals not just for themselves but for their countries as well. The results of the past 4 years of preparation bear fruit as we see the very best compete for the glory of being champions.

There is heartbreak, too. Above the photo of Uta Abe, Japanese Judo medalist who rose to prominence in the Tokyo Olympics as she and her brother Hifumi were the first siblings to take individual gold medals in Olympic history. She had been unbeaten since 2019 and was heavily favored to win another individual gold, as her brother did later that day. She lost to Uzbekistani player Diyora Keldiyorova in what her brother termed an "accidental ippon". Heartbroken, her tears and wails of disappointment as she left the mats became a notable meme. We shared her pain.

There will always be times when we fail. We will fail to exceed our own expectations, or those of the people who count on us. There will be times when we are tried in public or on social media, fairly or unfairly. There will be times when we don't get the praise we think we deserve for the results we deliver. We may be passed over for promotion or have rumors unfairly spread about us.

As human beings, we seek validation and praise as part of our basic natures. We want to do well, and we want to be acknowledged and recognized for it. From the time we are born, we seek, even crave, the acceptance and praise of those we think are above us - parents/grandparents, older siblings, friends, teachers, coaches, professors, priests, in-laws, bosses and job mentors. Late in life, we seek validation from our children or grandchildren who we hope will recognize and acknowledge our sacrifices and think we did a good job for them. This is completely natural - until it becomes obsessive. When it causes us to suffer then maybe it is worth considering a bit more deeply.

Buddhism is an important way of philosophical thinking in that it addresses the ego directly. We are constantly reminded of our connection to everything, our sameness, our "smallness". In rejecting duality in favor of singularity, we accept that no other living being is above us and neither are we above any other. Our connectedness makes us equal and humbles us.

In Buddhism we also look carefully at the trap of expectations, which lead to desire and oftentimes to disappointment. This is done not to disavow our emotions, but rather to recognize and acknowledge them so we can let them go - and not be controlled by them. It is a process of deep observation aimed at every aspect of our lives.

As martial artists too, it is easy to be caught up in the thrill of competition and romanticize violence. Many famous Hollywood movies do exactly that. However, Buddhism clearly reminds us that such actions are really just "ego candy", establishing artificial rankings and hierarchies where they should not be. Our ego often gets in the way of good training and connecting to our training partners. Belts and ranks engender respect, but can also create feelings of unfairness or comparison where they are not warranted. Movies like "The Karate Kid" beautifully showcase our obsession with winning, often at the cost of someone else.

Kodo Sawaki, Zen teacher of Taisen Deshimaru, famously said "The secret of martial arts is that there is no victory and no defeat. You can neither win nor be beaten." Of course, this is not the same in sports and as such sports are not martial arts. This is worth thinking about. Losing her match does not equate to weakness nor failure. Neither can it be fully attributed to the strength and skill of her competitor. It simply happened. No more, no less. Every encounter is unique and no outcomes are ever guaranteed. Can we really say she "lost"? That Diyora Keldiyorova "won"? Both? Neither??

My heart goes out to Uta Abe. The heavy weight of so much expectation clearly took a toll on her. She is still young (24 years old) and has hopefully lots of life yet to live. She will rise, stronger, and this experience will help make her a better competitor and a better person. I hope she finds peace as soon as possible.

Train Hard.