The Warrior's Way

                             The Warriors Way, Sort of..

 

The name for this site, Nagual Time, comes from the teachings of Don Juan Matus, via Carlos Castaneda.  I chose the name because these teachings have been influential to me for a long time.  Castaneda was an apprentice to Don Juan in the shamanic tradition of the Yaqui Indians that he referred to simply as the Warrior’s Way.  Many cultures throughout history have utilized similar methods of self-cultivation.  In China the Warrior’s Way is known as Kung Fu, in Japan it is Budo.

            The crucial thing about the Warrior’s Way is the depth and breadth of the path.  It’s more than training to be a “warrior” in the sense of one who fights to protect the tribe.  It’s really more about intensive self-cultivation.  In Don Juan’s words, it is living impeccably.  The Warrior doesn’t engage in foolishness; doesn’t make mistakes; is always at the top of his/her game, so to speak.  The Warrior lives his life impeccably because death is always just over her left shoulder; death is always at hand and the Warrior knows this and is motivated by this.

            I don’t differentiate the specifics of my path.  For me, Taiji and Qigong are the same as meditation, which is the same as Hapkido training, which is the same as prayer, which is the same as cardio and/or weight training, which is the same as getting enough sleep, eating properly, and resting when I need to.  It is all practice.  I prefer Budo as the description of my path, even though my primary practices are not Japanese in origin.  But I also don’t like to focus much on country of origin, family or style, denomination, school of thought, or any other titles and names we use to define and separate ourselves.  I look for practices that resonate with me and adopt them if they work for me.

            The martial artists who inspire me the most are Bruce Lee, O’Sensei Ueshiba, and Grandmaster Feng Zhiqiang.  These men all fused different styles to create new practices.  I not only appreciate their arts, I appreciate their insights and the spirit they brought to practice.  More importantly to me, they were not afraid to break the mold, to follow their hearts.  What they bring to the arts is priceless.  Lee gave us a focus on finding the true path, taking what really works and discarding what doesn’t (and yes, that is very subjective).  O’Sensei said he found the secret to Budo, which is ironically peace.  And GM Feng emphasized Qigong and nurturing above all else.  The approach these men founded is at once counterintuitive and innovative, each in its own way.

            Accordingly, my own practice is reflective of these three approaches.  I appreciate the ecumenical nature of Lee’s Jeet Kune Do and utilize those principles in my practice.  I have an eclectic approach to martial, spiritual, and health practice.  I am constantly looking and adapting.  My main practice is the Hunyuan Taiji of GM Feng, and accordingly I place the highest value on Qigong and meditation.  Before all else we must be healthy and awake—or at least working on waking up.  And I approach it all as one practice, the practice of peace.  The goal is first inner peace, then peace with the world; all the pieces of practice work together to accomplish this.  But, in keeping with Don Juan's Warrior's Path, he also described it as the path of knowledge, knowledge being the crucial thing here.  And it's not just knowledge in the day-to-day sense of that term.  For Don Juan, knowledge is much deeper and esoteric.  It is mystical but includes all knowledge and all impeccable practices are approaches to knowledge. 

            When asked about my religion or spiritual practices, or style of martial art, I always hesitate to answer.  I just don’t like labels.  Typically, I will come up with some answer, but it will rarely explain my practice so much as satisfy the questioner and get me off the hook.  But I really think that most of the time, most people hear what they want to hear rather than what we say anyway.  And the more complicated or convoluted the answer, the less interested they are.  It's not my intention to be complicated as much as it is to be true, true to myself and my practice, whatever that may be.  It would be easier to pick one way, perhaps something popular that everyone is familiar with and leave it at that.  But the easy path is rarely the most rewarding

The Magic of Titles and Outfits

A little while back, I had a potential student contact me about training with me. He had just moved to the area and wanted to resume his Taiji training. Our first conversation was energetic and engaging. He appeared to have a solid grounding in Chinese martial arts and enthusiasm for training. He promised to drop in on our next class, but never made it. We talked again a couple of weeks later and he assured me again that he was coming to my class. Then we proceeded to discuss particulars of my training approach. All seemed to be going well until he asked about sashes. I politely informed him that while I do use a curriculum, I don't award rank and we don't wear colored sashes. "Well, what about uniforms?" he asked. "At my old school we wore the silk Kung Fu uniform." Again, I informed him that we don't do that either. At this point he was surprised. "No? Really? Well what do you wear?" "Um, I don't know--street clothes. In the summer we usually wear shorts and T-shirts; or sometimes jeans; or whatever one would wear to play basketball or go for a walk around the block. I mean, everyone is welcome to wear whatever they want. We just wear comfortable clothes fit to work out in." The other end of the phone got silent. After an agonizingly long wait, he asked if my students referred to me as Sifu, or Master. At that point I laughed. I know, I shouldn't have done that. It was extremely rude and inappropriate. But I couldn't help it.

I attempted to salvage the conversation by telling him that, while I really understand the cultural significance of those terms, I don't use them in my classes nor expect my students to. No Sifu, or Laoshi, or Master, or Mister, or Sir, or anything else. My name is Rodney. I teach in the US to American students. In that aspect of things, we follow Western customs. I do respect any Chinese teachers I have or have had, who wish to be addressed this way. The same goes for American teachers I have had who teach Japanese and/or Korean arts and have asked to be addressed as Sensei, Master, or Sir. I don't have a problem with the concept, in context. It just doesn't apply in the context of my classes.

The potential student never showed up nor ever called again. I suspect he found a Taiji teacher with silk pajamas, and possibly even an Asian-sounding name with a high-ranking prefix. I don't know. There are plenty around here. But, that will never happen in my classes. I have made rank with colored belts in other systems and the belts mean nothing to me. It's the knowledge that counts, and the humility that should go with the knowledge. Such humility has no desire for anything that pumps the ego and sets any of us apart from each other. I am no master. I know some things, and I share them with the folks who wish to attend my classes. At the same time, I am still a student. I am still learning. I hope I always will. And I endeavor to maintain the humility of a student. Beginners Mind and all that.

As far as the clothing, I say whatever works, works. For me, comfortable clothing works. I don't own any silk pajamas, but I do sometimes wear cotton Kung Fu pants. They are comfortable, durable, and practical. But then again, so are the blue jeans, basketball shorts, and athletic jogging pants, that I also wear. I also have a large selection of martial art T-shirts. I usually wear them to class as well. I also wear boxing shoes in the colder months. In the summer, I usually go barefoot or wear sandals. But I don't require my students to wear anything other than what they feel is comfortable. When I played Judo and Aikido, we wore the Judogi. But it is very practical in the dojo, and arguably necessary and preferable for those arts. There are no such requirements for Taiji clothes. In fact, since I emphasize the practical aspects of this art, everyday clothes are better and preferred, so one never has the idea that Taiji, Qigong, meditation, or defending oneself requires anything other than what one is wearing at any given moment.

Discipline and Simplicity in the Year of the Water Dragon

The Chinese New Year is upon us again. After much thought and consideration, I have decided to participate in the 100 Day Challenge again this year. It has been a very good thing for me the last couple of years. I have been able to finish training goals I had started but could never quite bring to fruition. Taking the time to work on a single skill every day, for 100 days, will take one's game to the next level.

This year in general my focus is on simplicity. I want to contain my practice a bit so that I can better focus on certain skills that I feel are necessary. I have already begun this, but the 100 Day Challenge allows me to narrow my overall focus to certain skills. This year I will be working on Zhan Zhuang, standing meditation. Since that is already a crucial part of my practice, one could say I'm not setting the bar very high. But, on the other hand, it's not always a process of learning a new skill. It's also a process of instilling discipline. While I do practice standing often, I'm not always as diligent as I could be, especially on the days when time is short. And since I have a day job that is not Taiji, I have to make time to practice. Most of the time that's not so hard. And I always find some time to practice. However, on the more challenging days, I may only do the form or sitting meditation, or just a little dynamic Qigong together with aerobic, weight-bearing, or martial training and never get to standing at all. For the next 100 days, at least, I will find time every day for at least some standing.

Concurrently, I am going to re-read Warriors of Stillness, one of the best books I have ever read on the discipline and practice of standing meditation. Also, to instill discipline, I will keep a record in my journal of my practice, insights, challenges.

The crucial and important thing about the 100 Day Challenge, is it's not simply a New Year's resolution. It's a practice. For those of us who are already practicing, it is, or should be, an adjustment to our practice. Since it is life, I expect some changes, some challenges, some new insights to arise by the time it's all over. In the meantime, let's saddle up and take a ride.

What Did I Learn in 2011?

I feel compelled, as I often do at the end of the year, to reflect on the previous year and review what I learned. The problem I usually have is that of short-term/long-term memory. Recent events are more cogent for me. But alas, I will do my best.

In general terms:
I learned I'm not as diligent at writing as I used to be. And i just can't seem to get much better, or more diligent.

I've learned to let go--rather, I've gotten better at it.

I've learned I need to work on getting beyond duality and the ego.

I've learned to appreciate Qigong and sitting meditation a lot more.


In specific terms:
I learned the Yang LuChan Taiji form.

I made significant improvements in my understanding of and abilities in I Liq Chaun and appreciate the depth of the art much more.

To that end, I have increased my appreciation of my primary art, Chen-Hunyuan Taiji much much more--specifically the importance of nurturing.

I have improved my Chin Na and sparring skills

I have learned that I don't fit in well with many Tai Chi groups and organizations, and I am quite content with that realization.

I have learned the the Yang LuChan Taiji form is the best Qigong I have ever experienced. I have every good reason to simplify my practice--but I won't be dropping that. It's just that powerful.

To that end, I have learned I am better off being multi-dimensional and not sticking too rigidly to any one system. I just operate better that way--always have.

I have come to appreciate my religious beliefs and realize I need my faith community.

To that end, I have come back around to really valuing silence and simplicity.

Further, I realize the internal need to slow down.

In the past year my Taiji skills have improved. I have trained and practiced a lot.

I have increased my time in meditation and can feel the gains.

A teacher I really looked up to and appreciated passed away.

My mom passed away, and I am still hurting from that. I feel the need to spend some time alone--possibly a retreat.

In the coming year (The Dragon):

For the past couple of years I have participated in The One Hundred Day Challenge on the Chinese New Year. I'm not sure I'm up to that this year--not sure I want to. But the jury is still out on that.

I am going to spend more time on the healing arts and meditation this year. Following the Chen-Hunyuan tradition, I am placing a higher priority on nurturing and contemplation. As far as my art goes, I will be working more on depth and less on width or breadth. I am also going to engage in the art of subtraction, or practical simplicity; live more through less. And that's about as far as I will go in terms of resolutions or predictions.

I do expect 2012 to be good, to be different. And that's enough for anyone.

And the Knees Have It

I have been having trouble with one of my knees lately, which has directed me in a different direction with my training--at least till this heals and/or passes. In any case, the shift in focus has highlighted some areas of my training that need more attention. The first of these, and the most important, is meditation. The latest slow-down has given me the opportunity to notice how much more I should meditate. I do meditate on a regular basis, and meditation is a core aspect of the Taiji/Qigong classes I teach. However, time is short, life is busy, and I don't get enough long sessions on the Zafu.

I have, over the last two years, increased my practice of Qigong and Taiji form. And the benefits have been enormous. However, there is no substitute for sitting. And, as I have said numerous times before, nothing is more important than waking up. Nothing. So, with a little pain comes insight. I'll take it however I get it.

It appears this latest injury may take a little more time than I expected for healing. In the meantime, I am cutting out any boxing, heavy push hands, the Pao Cui (Erlu), Hao Chuan, and any fajin practice. I'm going to use the time to work on meditation and investigate various healing modalities. Ahh, the joy of getting old.

The Ever-Narrowing Path

Do not go by revelation

Do not go by tradition

Do not go by hearsay

Do not go on the authority of sacred texts

Do not go on the grounds of pure logic

Do not go by a view that seems rational

Do not go by reflecting on mere appearances

Do not go along with a considered view because you agree with it

Do not go along on the grounds that the person is competent

Do not go along because [thinking] 'the recluse is our teacher

The Buddha (Kalama Sutta)

Right from the beginning here, I realize this post may bother a few folks, probably some people I care about quite a lot. So, right from the beginning I want to say that is not my intention, but I do understand how that may be a consequence. What I truly hope is that something here speaks to everyone who reads this.

I got the title, "The Ever-Narrowing Path" from a conversation with my friend, Paul Read, about how unfortunate it is that in the martial arts world in general, and the Taiji world in particular, so many people are caught up in such superficial concepts as lineage, and "the way it's supposed to be done", and our style vs. your style, and this family as opposed to that family, and interpreting history, short form vs. long form, and martial vs health, and traditional vs contemporary, and on and on.... I do think it is a natural thing to want to understand one's art. Good research would have you discuss with those who have been at it a while, read books on the topic, see what your teacher and your lineage has to say about things, and see what other teachers and lineages have to say. But at the same time, I think it is counterproductive to rely solely on what your teacher and lineage have to say. Not that they may mislead you, or that they may be wrong. My point is that in Taiji, as in all things, we need to get to a point where we think for ourselves--even if our thoughts are different or in direct opposition to our teacher/lineage/system.

It is downright discouraging to me to see very talented and knowledgeable people openly belittling others to, apparently, only boost themselves or their "system". It's even more discouraging that when I bring up an unusual idea or concept to another Taiji player, to see them defer totally, 100%, to their teacher or system, especially when another teacher or system has a different, but legitimate answer. Of course we should always trust our teachers and the system. But at the same time we should allow ourselves the right to think outside the box. We must remember that this is a human art. And humans are fallible. Taiji was not handed down by the gods, then diluted by devious humans along the way. It was invented by humans, has been practiced and modified by humans, and will continue to be practiced and modified by humans. I believe we should give our teachers the full respect they deserve. But at the same time, we should be bold enough to wander outside the temple every now and again.

In my opinion, one of the best things to happen to modern martial arts was Bruce Lee's Jeet Kune Do. JKD is not a new style, it is a different approach, a style of no style. Lee said that style imprisons us because combat is not limited to style. It was Lee's intention to free his followers from styles, patterns, and doctrines. Unfortunately, almost 40 years after his death, most martial artists have not taken his advice. This is especially true in the Taiji world. I recently read somewhere on an internet forum where a young student, new to Taiji and taking both Yang and Chen style classes from different schools was almost to the point of quitting altogether because each of the respective schools spent so much time demeaning the other.

When I'm faced with these arguments, and my friends' certainties that they, and only they, are following the one true path, I am reminded of the words of the founder of Quakerism, George Fox. When confronted with religious arguments based on the bible and the Church's traditions and beliefs, he replied: "The bible says this, and the Church says that. I ask you, what can you say?" To my argumentative friends in the Taiji world, I ask you a similar question. You say, "the classics say this, your teacher says that; according to history, Taiji should be (whatever); our founder Chen-Yang-Wu-Hao-Whomever said we should...." I ask you, what do you say? Instead of rumbling around, quoting the classics, arguing over history, who invented Taiji in what village on whatever mountaintop, etc... Look into yourself. See what Taiji really says to you. Try another form, another style. Really try it. Practice your slow form fast, with fajin. Practice your fast form slow, in small frame with extra emphasis on Song. Whatever. I'm not asking for a re-invention of Taiji, here. I'm just hoping that maybe we can all get along and think for ourselves at the same time. In an art that has so much to offer, it's a shame to see the artists imprisoned by dogmatism.

Knowing....

"If scientific analysis were conclusively to demonstrate certain claims in Buddhism to be false, then we must accept the findings of science and abandon those claims." The Dalai Lama, XIV

I have a friend, a theologically-liberal Christian, who said she was speaking with a more evangelical fellow who pointed out in the Bible the very verse that specified why he knew, the source of his certainty. She said the ironic thing about it was that this very same verse was one she used to specify her need for the eternal search, why she always questioned the Universe and found any personal sense of certainty resistant to words. If I extrapolate that experience, I find the same thing happening throughout the philosophical areas of my life. There are parties and schools of thought, often at odds with one another, in every endeavor. I don't think there is anything necessarily wrong with that. In fact, I think there is something very right with that, because it shows that we are human, that we have the faculties of critical thought, and that we use them to individualize the things that are important to us. What does bother me are the self-righteous, the ones who know (whatever it is they know), because what they typically know is that they are right and everyone else is accordingly wrong.

Don't misunderstand. I also have my personal philosophies, my unique style, or styles. And there are other philosophies, schools-of-thought, styles, that I don't like or agree with. However, I am trying in my later life to not publicly criticize those whose philosophies are different from mine. I certainly can't improve myself, my art, or my philosophy by demonstrating how wrong others are. I am, rather, trying to approach things with an empty cup, so that perhaps I may learn something. By taking this approach I am indeed learning new and interesting things. And, as you may imagine, I am meeting a good deal of confusion as they run together, and a lot of resistance from those who think one should find a box and stay in it. As far as confusion, that is OK; confusion is good. It's a reason to examine my practices and look closely at my life and my art. As far as the resistance--so what? I've never fit very well into any parenthetical references. There is certainly no sense in beginning now.

For my friends and acquaintances who love their certainty, their partisanship, their hard-fast denominational allegiance. Bless you. Honestly. I am doing what works for me, because I found after trying many years that I just don't conform to anything very well. And I am pleased if you are doing what works for you. I am not criticizing partisanship, I'm just saying it's not for me.

Now, let's go practice whatever it is we practice.