Sitting on a rock

There is a Japanese proverb: Ishi no ue ni mo sannen (石の上にも三年), literally means: "Three years upon a stone." Not too many people will have the patience to sit on a rock for three years. My teacher, Shibata Sensei, uses this saying, to encourage patience and perseverance in our practice. He says that one will eventually find something, or something will be revealed to those who stick with the practice for a long time.

This expression has been passed down from masters to apprentices for hundreds of years. In order to deeply study a Way or a discipline, one must undergo at least three years of training and study with little or no initial visible reward or sense of tangible progress. Many people in the West do not really understand the value of such sacrifice, and it is only when one comes across a great teacher, one may begin to understand the real worth of such a path.

In our society we are looking to be rewarded, to make progress, and see tangible results quickly. Unfortunately, this usually does not lead to a deep study, especially if we're looking for an immediate gratification. Sometimes people call the Dojo and ask how long it takes to get a black belt. We usually tell them jokingly they can purchase one at the nearby martial arts supply store. On this particular path, it takes a certain level of personal commitment and sacrifice. It takes perseverance, and following with the heart. It takes great love, love that translates into deeds, into practice. This cannot be explained over the phone, and not even in a face to face conversation.

One doesn't necessarily need to sit on a rock in order to get this. One must choose to trust the process, and continue on the path without the need of constant encouragement, or ongoing rewards or praise. Studying deeply and sticking it out will eventually reveal great things.

Trading places

For many years I was driving past homeless people, standing at the freeway off ramp, and just felt sorry for them. From time to time I would give them a dollar or some change, moving on without a second thought. Years past and I watched a documentary called Skid Row. It was filmed, mostly with a hidden camera at Skid Row, where 80,000 homeless people live in downtown Los Angeles. The movie captured the daily life and stories; some which are core shaking. Watching the movie generated many thoughts about how I would feel, if I were to live there, dealing with the poverty and crime, and living in such fragility and vulnerability. Since then I started feeling much more compassion and consideration to the situations and conditions these human beings face, right here, in our city, as well as in many places all around the world.




I guess that in my case I changed my opinion by reflecting, and seeing myself in a similar situation. Being considerate takes us into someone else's realm, puts us into their shoes and helps us feel what they feel, like an imaginary "switcheroo". It is a powerful tool for life, and a great practice to develop a loving and open heart. It may be used in different cases; with a group or an individual, whether it is with someone close to our hearts, or a stranger, an animal or someone's living space. Consideration is an ability to look through someone else's eyes, developing sensitivity and carefulness.

This can be practiced in Aikido daily training. One can be Nage (the person who apply the technique) without much consideration to Uke (the person who is taking the technique). The encounter may go smoothly, and the technique will be performed — yet, the more sensitivity and awareness we practice with our partner will enable us to have better "blending" in our encounter. An Uke, on the other hand, that chooses to be participating actively, with true intention of attack, and that trains with awareness to Nage, becomes a responsible part of the outcome of the encounter - staying connected and looking for openings throughout the technique. So, in our training we can trade places, not just physically, but in our awareness as well. This provides many opportunities to deepen our study about techniques, timing, distance and positioning, while observing from the different sides, and from various angles.

Trading places teaches us about others and our environment, perserves our minds' flexibility and clarity, while keeping our hearts filled of compassion and understanding.

Moments of impermanence

On Monday morning the Sesnon fire started some ten miles away from our home, and was moving quickly Southwest. It was somewhat relieving to find out that it was proceeding the other way. We were advised, just in case, to pack, and also to take our irreplaceable items.

I found myself walking from room to room, looking at our belongings, at our stuff. Furniture, art, clothes, books, music, kitchenware, electronics, and even our little rock collection — all looked like stuff, like replaceable items. I was surprised by two different feelings I experienced simultaneously; a quiet willingness to leave all our stuff behind, and a core-gripping feeling of impermanence. A light connection line ran between the two, as they were complementing each other.
















On Tuesday morning we woke up to the bad news - the fire had changed direction during the night, and now was moving swiftly towards our neighborhood. My daughter, Aria (6) and I went to check on the situation outside, and saw the blaze coming down the hills of our neighboring O'Melveny Park. A couple of hours later, we watched the sixty foot flames threatening to reach the backyards of some houses bordering the park, about seven blocks away from our home.















A police car announced an evacuation, and I took Aria to stay with friends, then returned back home. I walked in and around the house, and felt as if I was watching a movie. It was all part of reality, yet, on the same token, it felt like it might not be.

The fire was contained that afternoon and was stopped right at the neighborhood's edge, thanks to the many helicopter water drops, and the firefighters on the ground. Luckily — no houses were damaged, and no life was taken. Only O'Melveny Park, mostly burnt, is standing there, with its black ashed hills, like a witness, testifying to what had actually happened, and how right now - it is all over.

Soon, there will be new flowers, grasses, green bushes and trees growing there, erasing the signs of this fire — dancing its simple twirl of impermanence.