In my last two posts, we have examined "Instruments of Ill-Omen" with regards to weapons and, in the second post, the martial arts. As I have reflected on the ramifications of the sensible advice presented in the Tao Te Ching, a question has arisen in my mind: what is it, that drives humans to behave in violent ways? How is it, that even peaceful monks are sometimes practitioners of martial arts, though they themselves are harmless beings? Is there something innate in humans, that incites aggression and demands to be excercised?
I personally think there is, and it is nothing more complex than testosterone. Before I am accused of sexism, let me point out that the production of testosterone is hardly unique to men. Classified as a steroid hormone of the androgen group, testosterone is produced not only in the testes of men, but also in the ovaries of women, and thus is common to both. Derived from cholesterol like other steroid hormones, testosterone plays a vital role in the health and well-being of both men and women; but it also has a virilizing effect on both genders, stimulating the growth of muscle mass, strength, bone density, and height, among other effects. And of course, it is the hormonal source of physical prowess and the competative instinct in human beings.
So, it seems to me that humans are hormonally pre-disposed towards physical striving and even competition-- perhaps even aggression. While this is hardly a unique conclusion, I do think that this simple medical fact about human hormones has important implications for Buddhists. Plainly stated, many people seem to regard the peaceful teachings of Buddhism as a repudiation of the human instinct towards exertion and striving. Although there is some disagreement among medical professionals regarding the extent to which instincts are an inherent dispostion or learned behavior, it is clear that to at least some extent, human instincts are innate from birth.
While the Buddha-Dharma does indeed teach us to be part of a community of cooperation, it hardly repudiates this innate aspect of humanity. The Sanskrit word Paramita means "to cross over to the other shore," and carries the implication of "realization," or "perfection." Through the practice of the "Six Perfections" (Generosity, Ethics, Patience, Effort, Concentration, and Wisdom), Buddhists strive to "cross over" the sea of suffering, delusion and ignorance to the shore of Awakening and Liberation (Nirvana). Among these Six Perfections is Virya Paramita, the practice of effort, perseverance, and energy.
It is interesting to note, that the word Virya is a cognate of the words virile, virility, and vigor. But what is most interesting to me, is the way the Buddha-Dharma wisely channels the innate human drive towards striving and exertion, into the healthy process of self-development, and away from unhealthy and violent manifestations of this otherwise normal human instinct. The Buddha-Dharma does not require us to deny or suppress this aspect of our humanity; rather, it celebrates Virya as one of the "Six Perfections" and encourages us to place this human tendency into the service of the rest of humanity. Motivated by compassion, we are roused to strive not only against our own laziness, but to cultivate courage in the face of injustice; perseverence in the face of discouragement; and even physical prowess in our practice of the Dharma. When we, as Buddhists, engage in vigorous Dharma practices such as prostrations, or walking meditation, or prolonged chanting, or even manual labor, we are engaged in the practice and cultivation of Virya Paramita.
Of course, these practices best accomplish their purpose when coupled with conscious mindfulness; but that is the subject for another post. My point here is simply this-- it is a mistake, to think that Buddhism repudiates human virility. Rather, it teaches us to perfect our virility in the service of humanity, and not in the aggrandizement of the ego.
When Shakyamuni Buddha, the historical Buddha, was born in ancient India, the prophets and seers who served his father, King Suddhodana, made a prophecy: either the infant Prince would grow to become a great King, Conqueror, and warrior; or he would grow to become a Holy Man who would turn the Wheel of the Dharma and relieve the suffering of mortal human beings. Thus, within the personality of this most excellent of all humans, these two possibilities were inherent from his birth. Although some Buddhists regard this story as a fable, personally I think that there is an important lesson in the legendary coupling of these apparently exclusive possibilities. Please consider this.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
'Instruments' Part 2
In my last post, “Instruments of Ill-Omen,” I cited the Tao Te Ching as an example of the Buddhist attitude towards weapons: “Weapons are instruments of Ill-omen, therefore followers of the Way never own them or have anything to do with them.” But if that is the case, how can any serious Buddhist have anything to do with martial arts? I have discussed this many times with Monshin Sensei. There is no doubt that the practice of arms and the Dharma are incompatible. Yet, there are clearly many practicing Buddhists who also train in martial arts and Monshin Sensei is OK with this. Given the well-known peacefulness of Buddhism, some people may find this strange— what is going on here?
In my experience (as both a Buddhist and martial artist), much of the confusion arises from the different motives that people bring to the study of martial arts. In Japan, there are distinct terms used to differentiate between training in actual, violent combative techniques, and the more modern and recreational forms of these arts which have evolved in the last hundred years. For example, the study of ancient and deadly grappling techniques was called Jujutsu; but in modern times, Judo evolved as a sporting and recreational version of this ancient art. Likewise, the study of Kenjutsu was about combat swordsmanship, but modern Kendo is a recreational activity akin to western fencing, whose rules have been hedged about to prohibit actual injury and transform the activity into a contest of cultivated and defined skills. And so forth with all of the Japanese martial arts— Kyujutsu (combat archery) became Kyudo (ceremonial archery), and Aikijutsu became Aikido, and so forth. In this fashion, the deadly practice of Bujutsu (“martial arts”) has evolved into the recreational practice of Budo (the “martial way”), with the word “way” carrying a distinctly philosophical connotation.
Thus, the practice of the various forms of Budo have transcended their violent origins, to become cultural and athletic activities with philosophical overtones. In the modern Budo arts, all of the most violent and deadly waza (techniques) have been purged from the curriculum. But this recreational evolution is generally unrecognized in the west, or actively disdained by martial artists whose motives are rooted in typically western insecurities and delusions. In Japan, for example, the practice of Kendo is widespread among both men and women, principally because it is an athletic elective in Japanese high schools and Universities. Those who continue practicing Kendo as adults are typically motivated by cultural or recreational reasons, and sometimes philosophical reasons.
In America, however, I can say from first-hand experience that the motives of most new Kendo students are often a bit delusional—such as the widespread samurai romanticism portrayed in western culture, or the ever-popular “self-defense” motive, a particularly silly reason to practice Kendo. The idea of studying Budo to learn self-defense would seem strange to a Japanese person— in the first place, that is not what Budo has become, and in the second place, crime is low in Japan and hence there is much less physical insecurity. It is this discontinuity of motives which contributes to the confusion among some western Buddhists who may struggle to understand the coexistence of budo and Buddhism. When western Buddhists question if the martial arts are compatible with Buddhism, they are displaying a good understanding of Buddhism but a poor understanding of modern martial arts, a misunderstanding based on popular culture and perhaps suspicion of our characteristically western motives for studying these arts.
The irony, of course, is that despite this misunderstanding, the suspicion of many western Buddhists towards martial arts is actually well-founded. Factually speaking, the way many western martial artists practice their art— with a violent emphasis that generates ego enhancement— is indeed incompatible with Buddhism. Western Buddhists as a community may not actually understand modern Japanese Budo, but they understand other Americans very well. Western martial artists have all kinds of reasons why they practice the art they have chosen, and character development is usually on the list. But at the moment of introspection, it is not usually the principal motivation, which often is related to ego gratification, such as winning tournaments or getting promotions or the cool secret-thrill of handling samurai weapons, or even simply just wanting to fight and dominate others. While these motives are true even of many Asian martial artists, in the absence of clearly articulated peaceful motives, westerners are more likely to fall into the ego-trap of projecting their own fantasies and insecurities onto their chosen art. When Budo is practiced this way, it does seem in conflict with Buddhism, and hence becomes just another form of clinging.
But that is not what the various organizations which govern these arts are saying they are all about. In 1987, the Japan Budo Association (Nippon Budo Kyogikai), the umbrella Federation comprised of the national governing bodies of Kendo, Kyudo, Sumo, Karatedo, Kempo, Naginata and Jukendo, published “The Budo Charter” (Budo Kensho) outlining the purpose and objectives of the practice of these arts. Translated into English in 2004, Article One reads as follows (from Alexander Bennet, “Naginata: The Definitive Guide”) p. 78):
ARTICLE 1: OBJECTIVE OF BUDO
Through physical and mental training in the Japanese martial ways, budo exponents seek to build their character, enhance their sense of judgment, and become disciplined individuals capable of making contributions to society at large.
From there, the subsequent five articles utilize words such as courtesy, self-control, respect for others, winning with modesty, accepting defeat gracefully, cleanliness for the Dojo, and an open-mindedness that still honors tradition.
Thus, the official statement of purpose of the Japan Budo Association, makes clear that character development is the proper objective of the study of Budo. Clearly, these many organizations are aiming for something more sublime than simply kicking ass, winning tournaments, getting promoted or becoming a fantasy Jedi Knight.
It is this nuanced understanding of both Budo and Buddhism which allows me to practice both. The precise dividing line for me, came down to this question— which arts am I studying, where the weapons are real and the intention is deadly? Not Kendo— the shinai is a bamboo fencing stave, an “instrument” designed specifically not to harm people. In Kyudo, the razor-tipped arrows were long ago capped with blunted target arrowheads, making it almost impossible to injure someone save by wild misfortune. Even Iaido, the art of “drawing the sword,” is today typically practiced with an “Iaito,” a blunt-edged training sword which can’t actually cut. Of all the Budo arts that I have studied, only Batto-do— the study of Japanese military swordsmanship— is actually practiced with “live” swords, deadly intention, and practical cutting application. And so, this was the martial art that I chose to surrender to my practice of the Dharma. Ultimately, if the idea that “followers of the Way should have nothing to do with weapons,” is to have any meaning for me personally, clearly some sacrifice was necessary.
Ultimately, Budo and Buddhism can be mutually compatible, but I think that both the teacher and the student must be thinking clearly about their motives. I also think that it helps when the art being studied is evolutionary in nature, with clearly stated objectives related to human development. When all of these are in alignment, then we should not fear that the martial arts are an “Instrument of Ill-omen.”
In my experience (as both a Buddhist and martial artist), much of the confusion arises from the different motives that people bring to the study of martial arts. In Japan, there are distinct terms used to differentiate between training in actual, violent combative techniques, and the more modern and recreational forms of these arts which have evolved in the last hundred years. For example, the study of ancient and deadly grappling techniques was called Jujutsu; but in modern times, Judo evolved as a sporting and recreational version of this ancient art. Likewise, the study of Kenjutsu was about combat swordsmanship, but modern Kendo is a recreational activity akin to western fencing, whose rules have been hedged about to prohibit actual injury and transform the activity into a contest of cultivated and defined skills. And so forth with all of the Japanese martial arts— Kyujutsu (combat archery) became Kyudo (ceremonial archery), and Aikijutsu became Aikido, and so forth. In this fashion, the deadly practice of Bujutsu (“martial arts”) has evolved into the recreational practice of Budo (the “martial way”), with the word “way” carrying a distinctly philosophical connotation.
Thus, the practice of the various forms of Budo have transcended their violent origins, to become cultural and athletic activities with philosophical overtones. In the modern Budo arts, all of the most violent and deadly waza (techniques) have been purged from the curriculum. But this recreational evolution is generally unrecognized in the west, or actively disdained by martial artists whose motives are rooted in typically western insecurities and delusions. In Japan, for example, the practice of Kendo is widespread among both men and women, principally because it is an athletic elective in Japanese high schools and Universities. Those who continue practicing Kendo as adults are typically motivated by cultural or recreational reasons, and sometimes philosophical reasons.
In America, however, I can say from first-hand experience that the motives of most new Kendo students are often a bit delusional—such as the widespread samurai romanticism portrayed in western culture, or the ever-popular “self-defense” motive, a particularly silly reason to practice Kendo. The idea of studying Budo to learn self-defense would seem strange to a Japanese person— in the first place, that is not what Budo has become, and in the second place, crime is low in Japan and hence there is much less physical insecurity. It is this discontinuity of motives which contributes to the confusion among some western Buddhists who may struggle to understand the coexistence of budo and Buddhism. When western Buddhists question if the martial arts are compatible with Buddhism, they are displaying a good understanding of Buddhism but a poor understanding of modern martial arts, a misunderstanding based on popular culture and perhaps suspicion of our characteristically western motives for studying these arts.
The irony, of course, is that despite this misunderstanding, the suspicion of many western Buddhists towards martial arts is actually well-founded. Factually speaking, the way many western martial artists practice their art— with a violent emphasis that generates ego enhancement— is indeed incompatible with Buddhism. Western Buddhists as a community may not actually understand modern Japanese Budo, but they understand other Americans very well. Western martial artists have all kinds of reasons why they practice the art they have chosen, and character development is usually on the list. But at the moment of introspection, it is not usually the principal motivation, which often is related to ego gratification, such as winning tournaments or getting promotions or the cool secret-thrill of handling samurai weapons, or even simply just wanting to fight and dominate others. While these motives are true even of many Asian martial artists, in the absence of clearly articulated peaceful motives, westerners are more likely to fall into the ego-trap of projecting their own fantasies and insecurities onto their chosen art. When Budo is practiced this way, it does seem in conflict with Buddhism, and hence becomes just another form of clinging.
But that is not what the various organizations which govern these arts are saying they are all about. In 1987, the Japan Budo Association (Nippon Budo Kyogikai), the umbrella Federation comprised of the national governing bodies of Kendo, Kyudo, Sumo, Karatedo, Kempo, Naginata and Jukendo, published “The Budo Charter” (Budo Kensho) outlining the purpose and objectives of the practice of these arts. Translated into English in 2004, Article One reads as follows (from Alexander Bennet, “Naginata: The Definitive Guide”) p. 78):
ARTICLE 1: OBJECTIVE OF BUDO
Through physical and mental training in the Japanese martial ways, budo exponents seek to build their character, enhance their sense of judgment, and become disciplined individuals capable of making contributions to society at large.
From there, the subsequent five articles utilize words such as courtesy, self-control, respect for others, winning with modesty, accepting defeat gracefully, cleanliness for the Dojo, and an open-mindedness that still honors tradition.
Thus, the official statement of purpose of the Japan Budo Association, makes clear that character development is the proper objective of the study of Budo. Clearly, these many organizations are aiming for something more sublime than simply kicking ass, winning tournaments, getting promoted or becoming a fantasy Jedi Knight.
It is this nuanced understanding of both Budo and Buddhism which allows me to practice both. The precise dividing line for me, came down to this question— which arts am I studying, where the weapons are real and the intention is deadly? Not Kendo— the shinai is a bamboo fencing stave, an “instrument” designed specifically not to harm people. In Kyudo, the razor-tipped arrows were long ago capped with blunted target arrowheads, making it almost impossible to injure someone save by wild misfortune. Even Iaido, the art of “drawing the sword,” is today typically practiced with an “Iaito,” a blunt-edged training sword which can’t actually cut. Of all the Budo arts that I have studied, only Batto-do— the study of Japanese military swordsmanship— is actually practiced with “live” swords, deadly intention, and practical cutting application. And so, this was the martial art that I chose to surrender to my practice of the Dharma. Ultimately, if the idea that “followers of the Way should have nothing to do with weapons,” is to have any meaning for me personally, clearly some sacrifice was necessary.
Ultimately, Budo and Buddhism can be mutually compatible, but I think that both the teacher and the student must be thinking clearly about their motives. I also think that it helps when the art being studied is evolutionary in nature, with clearly stated objectives related to human development. When all of these are in alignment, then we should not fear that the martial arts are an “Instrument of Ill-omen.”
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