When you train, do you train just for yourself?
Do you train just for the moment?
Do you remember those who brought the skills you practice down through time?
Do you consider those who may inherit the skills you are practicing?
We live in a world of fast food where everything is disposable. But somethings aren't meant to be fast food, they aren't disposable, and they aren't meant to be on a menu with "Pick any 3" written above them.
When we train budo, we are training ourselves, but we are also contributing to a tradition, even if we are training a newly created style. That style's creator had teachers, and hopeful he didn't create the style completely from his imagination. Over the centuries a lot of people have contributed to the arts we train in. Some of us are fortunate enough to train in living arts that have been around for many centuries, and we can easily look up the names of past teachers and master students. Some of the people we owe our gratitude to are easy to identify. Others, students and teachers whose names were not recorded, we will never know about. We can, and should, appreciate them all the same.
I am amazed and humbled to think of all the great teachers whose lessons I am receiving when I train in my chosen budo. And I am humbled by the thought that my teachers have decided to lavish their experience and wisdom on me. They are some of the finest people I know. One of the reasons I believe they have become such fine human beings is that their training is not just about themselves. They train, they learn, and then they share what they have learned without jealousy or greed. Their budo is much more than just a method for fighting or self-defense or to boost their ego through their own strength and power.
Budo, when practiced fully, weaves together the past and the future with the present. I have inherited a great debt from my teachers. In budo we should always be aware of just how much we have received from our teachers, and their teachers before them. And it is not a debt we can repay. It is one that can only be paid forward. Budo lessons are not something to be learned for ourselves alone. Budo cannot be practiced alone, and once we have learned lessons from budo, it is our responsibility to pass those lessons on to others.
This doesn't mean that everyone who studies budo has to go out and start their own dojo, or even that they have to teach classes. But it does mean that we have to share what we have learned with those around us in the dojo without being jealous about the lady with more talent who picks it so quickly, or the boy who has lots of free time and advances rapidly because he trains a lot more than we can. It means training with people, and sharing with them.
By training with people, and sharing what we know, we knit the next row of stitches in the fabric that is our budo. We become some of those teachers and students who created, learned and passed on what they had learned. If an art form can continue for hundreds of years to get to us, there is no reason not to expect it to continue for hundreds more. We are part of it, and we owe it to those who gave the art to us, to give it to future students. We train and learn and train with others and teach and give our art on to future students, not just those we know by name, but those who will come to the art after we have died and likely been forgotten. Very few of us will be remembered as a master teacher or a soke. But we are still a part of the art, and it is our duty as a part of the art to pass it on.
That's more than a little humbling, and I think that is why my teachers are so humble. They know that what they are doing is not just for themselves and their direct students. It is for all those who will come after, their descendants in the art. Kiyama Sensei has been doing budo for over 80 years, he can see a long way back, and I believe he can envision his budo traveling far into the future. He would never call it "his" though. It came to him from his teachers and he cannot keep it. He passes it along to his students, and we cannot keep it either. We can only ever be caretakers. We may get to polish it a little, and perhaps, if we are something astounding, we might even be able to add a nugget to the budo treasure we have been blessed enough to receive.
Always keep in mind that "your" budo doesn't really belong to you. It would be more accurate to say that you belong to the budo you practice. It is a great treasure that past teachers have given you to care for so that future generations can benefit from this budo as well. By practicing, you become a part of the fabric of the budo.
1 comment:
Brilliant (I may write more on my blog, but you tend to write *better*). Another variation on the idea of becoming part of the koryu "stream" as opposed to changing an art form to suit oneself. I think your assessment of Kiyama Sensei is very apt, and applies to a number of other people I have been privileged to know. Sometimes I thought they were old-fashioned, but I came to realize they were taking responsibility for what they felt was a trust handed down to them, that they had both a duty to protect and to pass the tradition on.
I wish though that this was more universally true. I have met many outstanding teachers and students, but also a great many others whose training was all about them - the teachers who realize foreigners will pay them lots of money for a budo "package," the talented people who think they have earned something when they in fact need experience and maturity to fully advance in their training. Even talented people have limits. I have seen initially talented people drop out when they reach them, as opposed to the dogged person who comes in and does the form over and over again and gradually improves. The "packagers" eventually have to keep lowering the bar on technique in order to keep money coming in, and eventually the art form loses respect.
The tricky part is not to get sucked into thinking like these latter folks and to try and emulate the former ones.
Thanks for the great post.
Post a Comment