9/11 Blues...
In the martial arts we deal with violence and aggression as a matter of course. They are born of war and struggle, of the need to fight to survive and to protect ones family.
I started martial arts training in 1977 because somehow my father had the idea that it would be good for me to know how to fight. Perhaps this thought was with my dad as his father was a German immigrant with a very German accent and a very German name that both he and my father shared in a moment in time when things were not so cozy between the Germans and the Americans.
And at the same moment, things were equally uneasy with the Japanese and the Americans.
Difficult times to be sure.
And yet for me, the German American conflict has been the stuff of history class, and my encounter with Japanese culture has been a commonly pulled thread in the tapestry of life as I weave it, so much so that I barely think of Aikido or Soto Zen as being particularly Japanese.
And yet, they are.
Or were.
What they are now is up for discussion, but in my view they are human, and the tragedy of the great wars of the last century must be included that humanity as well.
My late grandfather on my mothers side would never talk about his tour in the Pacific theatre in the 2nd war, and didn't want to talk about anything Japanese I was involved in either.
Fair enough Grampa. Really, very fair.
But this didn't dissuade me in the least from following the energy where it lead me, and continues to lead me still, and for me it's not about infatuation with some idealized version of Japanese culture. Same as Jazz being forged in the impossibly traumatic race struggles of America, and that Jazz music is now a gift which has been given to the world that is being adapted and influenced in ways unimaginable to its pioneers.
And so for me its about life evolving and growing and expressing itself at its fullest. And all the worlds cultures and peoples have major contributions to offer.
Including my perhaps foolish hope that one day the current conflict with the Islamic world will have birthed new gifts to offer the larger world that will enhance and improve it, though I must confess that what these gifts may end up to be I could not guess, and that some in my generation will likely not be interested in hearing about them, not ever. And perhaps that is fair enough. Perhaps very fair for some actually. Losing loved ones in war changes the mix for everyone. My Grandpa lost his friends to the Japanese, my Jazz friends have lost loved ones to the falling of the twin towers in New York.
These are obviously not the same situations at all, and yet in some ways they are not totally different either. Loved ones lost to violence born from the clash of cultures, the clash of ignorance upon ignorance, bound up with greed and hatred and confusion, and conditioning. Lots of conditioning...
Still though, even with all of that time does what it does and moves on, and cultures and people do what they do and move on, and what that all seems to me to be doing on some level is a great sharing and integrating and growing, muddied as it always seems to be with those poisons we like to think of as belonging to the last generations rather than as our own.
So what to do?
Well, we can start with awareness. Awareness of the suffering as it actually arises in our lived experience.
And to actually treasure and honor that noble reality.
And to understand it as best we can.
To have some understanding of why the Nazis were what they were, and the Kamikaze were what they were, and why the hijackers of those flights on 9/11 and Osama Bin Laden were what they were.
And to not be afraid to do something.
So to be a tough street fighter is one thing, but to transform violence into true martial art that catalyzes awakening is quite something else. And to be down and out is one thing, but to transform it into the blues is something else again.
So what would it be to do this kinda transformation mojo with this clash of worldviews?
I sincerely hope we will find out...
I started martial arts training in 1977 because somehow my father had the idea that it would be good for me to know how to fight. Perhaps this thought was with my dad as his father was a German immigrant with a very German accent and a very German name that both he and my father shared in a moment in time when things were not so cozy between the Germans and the Americans. And at the same moment, things were equally uneasy with the Japanese and the Americans.
Difficult times to be sure.
And yet for me, the German American conflict has been the stuff of history class, and my encounter with Japanese culture has been a commonly pulled thread in the tapestry of life as I weave it, so much so that I barely think of Aikido or Soto Zen as being particularly Japanese.
And yet, they are.
Or were.
What they are now is up for discussion, but in my view they are human, and the tragedy of the great wars of the last century must be included that humanity as well.
My late grandfather on my mothers side would never talk about his tour in the Pacific theatre in the 2nd war, and didn't want to talk about anything Japanese I was involved in either.
Fair enough Grampa. Really, very fair.
But this didn't dissuade me in the least from following the energy where it lead me, and continues to lead me still, and for me it's not about infatuation with some idealized version of Japanese culture. Same as Jazz being forged in the impossibly traumatic race struggles of America, and that Jazz music is now a gift which has been given to the world that is being adapted and influenced in ways unimaginable to its pioneers.
And so for me its about life evolving and growing and expressing itself at its fullest. And all the worlds cultures and peoples have major contributions to offer.
Including my perhaps foolish hope that one day the current conflict with the Islamic world will have birthed new gifts to offer the larger world that will enhance and improve it, though I must confess that what these gifts may end up to be I could not guess, and that some in my generation will likely not be interested in hearing about them, not ever. And perhaps that is fair enough. Perhaps very fair for some actually. Losing loved ones in war changes the mix for everyone. My Grandpa lost his friends to the Japanese, my Jazz friends have lost loved ones to the falling of the twin towers in New York.
These are obviously not the same situations at all, and yet in some ways they are not totally different either. Loved ones lost to violence born from the clash of cultures, the clash of ignorance upon ignorance, bound up with greed and hatred and confusion, and conditioning. Lots of conditioning...
Still though, even with all of that time does what it does and moves on, and cultures and people do what they do and move on, and what that all seems to me to be doing on some level is a great sharing and integrating and growing, muddied as it always seems to be with those poisons we like to think of as belonging to the last generations rather than as our own.So what to do?
Well, we can start with awareness. Awareness of the suffering as it actually arises in our lived experience.
And to actually treasure and honor that noble reality.
And to understand it as best we can.
To have some understanding of why the Nazis were what they were, and the Kamikaze were what they were, and why the hijackers of those flights on 9/11 and Osama Bin Laden were what they were.
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| Katherine pointed out that the guitar came from the Islamic world via the Moores in Spain! |
So to be a tough street fighter is one thing, but to transform violence into true martial art that catalyzes awakening is quite something else. And to be down and out is one thing, but to transform it into the blues is something else again.
So what would it be to do this kinda transformation mojo with this clash of worldviews?
I sincerely hope we will find out...
Contributions of Islam to the larger world? Well, we could start with the guitar, which the Moors brought to Europe via Spain. Or algebra, which is an Arabic word and uses many methods developed by Persian mathematicians.
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