On mindfulness and realizing mistakes

The wall in my new room

A little over a week ago (June 1) I took a leap, if not of faith, then at least into the unknown and moved into the Shim Gwang Sa (Mind Light Temple). I’m undertaking a residency of at least a year training more intensively in Shim Gum Do and attempting to live by that zen philosophy on a daily basis.

My plan and goal is to develop a more mindful approach to life as I work through the training to my first star black belt in Zen Sword Shim Gum Do, facilitate my spiritual growth and try to generally improve my overall health through better eating and exercise.

It’s probably (all right, definitely) too early to really assess things, but I will say that even though I thought I understood what I was getting into -- and I really did, on a purely intellectual level -- the reality is proving… more strenuous than I was prepared for.

Chanting and bowing every morning doesn’t sound so bad on paper. But the reality of having to wake up at 5:30 most every morning and go from a standing position to a kneeling bow 33 times in a row is definitely hard (but hey, exercise, right?), especially for a night owl like me.

I’ve also gone from training two to four days a week to at least an hour of sword practice every day -- an increase that my muscles are definitely letting me know they weren’t expecting.

My room

But honestly the things that have me feeling most like a fool on an almost daily basis are the mistakes and failures of attention. My bedroom is off of the main training area (the Dharma room); one of the rooms in the temple where a bow to the Buddha shrine on entering and exiting is required.

And I’m starting to really learn about the importance of thinking my actions through after having to go back to my room twice before doing something in the kitchen because I forgot something. I’ve also been reminded (twice) by Sa Bu Nim of the importance of cleaning the sink immediately after washing a dish. (I hadn’t wiped it down because I was going to be back in a minute, I thought, but then I forgot/got distracted).

Or there’s the horror of realizing that the slippers that I wore to take out the compost the night before and accidentally left on the doormat to the kitchen were moved neatly to the side.

These are just the physical manifestations of something that I think I’d been noticing about myself even before I moved in to the temple: I’ve not been very mindful of the others in my life.

If there’s one positive aspect of the realization that I’ve been something of a selfish git for years, it’s the knowledge that there’s plenty of room for improvement.

Have patience with me friends. I’m working on it. (And thank you for sticking by me despite my sometimes self-centeredness).

The view of my bedroom window

On seeking and self-sabotage

Recently I’ve started to wonder when my sense of anticipation for the future turned into a sometimes overwhelming anxiety about what may come.

I can remember, especially during my career as a journalist, how the future seemed to hold nowhere to go but up. I was constantly seeking out new ways of furthering my career, assignments fraught with difficulty and opportunities to educate myself in new skills and techniques of the trade.

But today, as I contemplate changes, even (or perhaps especially) ones that I know will be difficult but ultimately very beneficial for my own growth and progress, I try to find ways to hide from them. Sometimes my hiding takes the form of a massive binge of online television (Netflix is certainly an enabler -- I kid). At others I’m immersed in science fiction of one sort or another; books, audio, online discussions and games.

I even pursue these distractions to the point of (nearly) self-sabotage. To wit-- I more or less skipped training at Shim Gum Do for about three weeks before the test yesterday (May 15). I was permitted to attend the pre-testing workshop and to test (and I passed, achieving the rank of 5th degree green belt). But as I said to a friend before the weekend, had I been the instructor, I’m relatively sure I wouldn’t have let me test (or at least not pass).

I should be clear: this time it wasn’t fear or anticipation of the test itself. My avoidance was triggered by the prospect of moving into the Gwang Sa Temple -- the Mind Light Temple and center where I’ve been studying.

Both intellectually and spiritually I am clear that though the daily routine and mindfulness practice (as well as increased intesity of Shim Gum Do training) will be very good for me -- these are things that, despite early rising, will definitely help me center myself more on a daily basis and, hopefully, be more open to the leadings of the Light. Even the daily routine of early rising for prayer, chanting, meditation and (most days of the week) exercise

But at the same time, I can’t deny the anxiety that prompted a massive amount of goofing off, including more than one sleepless night as a result of playing video games, that thoroughly fouled up my always precarious sleep schedule. In turn, I missed a few committments (usually ones in the morning), though I was able to reschedule without many consequences.

This instinct for self sabotage reminds me of the last days of my time in DC, when I was thoroughly burned out with my job and looked for any avenue to escape. And these acts undermining myself have not always been without consequence, as they more or less were in terms of my training. And I can’t count on them remaining so any more.

If the Divine is watching me this month, it must be confused or frustrated with me (hopefully with some of the infinite compassion I keep hearing about). I constantly ask for signs and portents to show me the way, but once on the path I keep searching for detours and diversions, in spite of my sincere prayers to live God’s will for my life.

But as I seek to change and seek patience for my understanding of the way forward, I suppose I also need to have patience with myself. Avoidance is another bad habbit aquired over many years. It will also take time along with determination, to rid myself of it.

To drink or not to drink? For me that’s not the question

I ran across an article by another Young Adult Friend, examining her personal decision about whether, in Light of Quaker testimonies supporting abstinence from alcohol, she would or should continue to drink.

For me, the important part of her decision is that she came to it mindfully and with consideration -- or at least she did after another Friend’s query prompted some soul searching.

As Socrates is reputed to have said, “the unexamined life is not worth living.” And, as the article points out,  many Yearly Meetings frame their discouraging of alcohol (and other intoxicants) in the form of an advice or a query: an invitation for us to examine the practices in our own life and consider whether they are consistent with living a full life in the Spirit or Light.

Indeed, my entire study of a Zen sword MARTIAL art is a vehicle through which I am examining my understanding and practice of Quaker injunctions against violence and war (well, sometimes it is; at other times it’s just good exercise and the peace of a Zen practice that forces me to quiet my racing thoughts for a time).

As the author puts it:

Statements like that [Britain Yearly Meeting’s Advice and Query 40] sometimes make me long for a prescriptive religion. It would be so much easier to have someone tell me “do this!” and “don’t do this!” than having to consider it for myself. But my Quakerism makes it essential for me to consider three aspects of my spirituality to reach an answer. Biblical tradition, communal wisdom, and personal experience/revelation all come together to form the spiritual framework that thereafter informs my life.

Read the full article “A Young Adult Quaker and Alcohol” to find out what (if any) conclusions the author reached for her life.

On testing and tests

Another test weekend is upcoming and the devilish part of my brain just popped up to say “Surely they wouldn’t deny an Irishman his green belt the weekend after St. Patrick’s Day!” And (with apologies to Leslie Neilson) I have to tell myself “They would deny it if I’m not ready. And stop calling me Shirley!”

 That said, I do feel ready for this test. And I feel like I’m getting into a better spot for establishing a real routine for training (and for my week in general) than I have had in the past. My plan moving forward is to train Tuesday and Wednesday nights and Saturday mornings, leaving Monday night free for a game night at a local hobby store and Thursday clear for either an extra day of training or other activities (like the St. Pat’s dinner I cooked for a friend last night -- while looking excessively Irish or like I was attempting to impersonate a leprechaun).

Part of my reasoning is that the few times recently that I’ve tried to do three (or even four) days in a row of training, the newer and more complicated forms have taken a toll and left me feeling slightly crippled with aches and soreness. Helping a friend move after a Saturday class was also less than ideal -- sore arms and knees are not great for moving boxes down stairs.

So I’m hoping to get a good routine of two or three days on, a day or two off, a day on and then another day or two off, at least until I build up the muscles and flexibility for a more rigorous regimen. The conversation about outside exercising I mentioned in the last post is still reasonably fresh in my mind. Now I just need to get around to it.

On a more serious note, the past three weeks have seen the death by suicide of a young man from the Quaker meeting I grew up in. After hearing a couple of friends express both sadness and a sense of guilt that they hadn’t seen it coming or done something more, I felt led to send this letter to the Young Adult Friend community:

Friends,
Like all of us, I was recently saddened to hear about the tragic passing of Ishmael Rosas. 

Although Ishmael was a member of the monthly meeting I still consider my home, due to my own travels I did not get the chance to know him. But my heart aches nonetheless. 

I also want to express my empathy and support for the Young Friends and those who are now Young Adult Friends who came to know Ishmael through his participation in YF and Friends Camp. I have never lost a F/friend in this way so I can only imagine what you are going through, but I do know that it must be difficult. And I strongly encourage those who are able to join in the memorial service at Storrs Friends Meeting and to take part in the grieving and processing groups that are being organized (with much love and thanks to NiaDwynwen Thomas, Honor Woodrow and others for their parts in that). 

In the wake of any tragedy is is natural to be especially hard hit by feelings that one wishes they had done more or seen the signs more clearly to have been able to say something. 

And, while I don’t want to minimize those feelings, speaking as one who battles depression and has had suicidal thoughts in the past, I urge you not to feel unreasonably guilty for anything you did or didn’t do. 

Many people, myself included, who suffer from this disease have become very good at putting up a brave, happy or even cheerful mask to hide the pain or numbness or isolation that we are actually feeling. We (I) have felt that our burdens are either too big or too trivial to burden anyone else with them -- or that we’re so unimportant or irredeemable that the best course of action is to remove our problems from being anyone else’s, permanently. 

It might seem that a lot of the feelings I’m telling you about are contradictory -- and they are -- but that didn’t stop me from feeling them all at once myself. Depression isn’t big on logic. And reaching out for help can feel like the most impossible thing in the world. 

All I can advise is that you give yourselves time to grieve, and share that burden -- and any others in your life -- with the people you care about and make it lighter. And know that they care about you deeply as well. There is no need for you to face this pain alone. 

And know that in taking care of yourself, you make yourself better prepared and able to help a friend who may reach out to you in need. And if you haven’t spoken to a friend in a while -- especially someone who may have gone away to college and be far from their usual supports -- reach out to check in. Even a brief call, email or text can make a huge difference. 

And if you suffer from depression (or feel that you might), please do reach out to me or to someone close to you so we can help you get the support you need. 

Many people have told me that depression thrives on isolation -- that it wants us alone and in pain when we do not need to be -- in a self-reinforcing downward spiral. But, for me at least, once that spiral is broken, even slightly, it becomes much easier to start back on the path back up to the light. 

With love and holding you all in the Light,
Brendan

Silliness and sustaining motivation

Back at the NEYM YAF fall retreat I happened to mention to a F/friend there that, after venturing into living meme-hood with my profile picture, that I was thinking about borrowing a Star Wars mask from a friend, and posing as the newly created “Darth Quaker.”

In doing so, I probably did my best James Earl Jones/Darth Vader impression of the line, “I find your lack of faith … disturbing.”

But it was Tristan who remembered that the Quaker guiding book (with editions put out by yearly meetings around the world) is entitled “Faith and Practice.”

And so:

Yeah, it’s silly, but it’s fun, and I wouldn’t be writing this, doing Shim Gum Do or working to deepen my connections with my faith and the NEYM community if I couldn’t or didn’t have some fun and silliness from time to time.

It keeps me grounded as I’m counting down with three weeks until the next testing day (March 20). Unlike my test for Yellow, when I felt ready long in advance, took an unscheduled break, and then “crammed” with practice in the week or so before the test, this time, I’m on track and on schedule to practice up gradually (I think/so far).

In fact, I think my main challenge will be to build up my endurance/stamina with the fourth and fifth sword forms, the latter of which involves some spinning jumps and a lot of moves with arm extended or over my head. And my back and right shoulder are definitely making me aware of the need.

It may also, based on a conversation after dinner at the temple this week, be time to get more serious about working out/exercising outside of Shim Gum Do. As a red-belt mentioned after dinner at the temple this week, outside workouts can build strength and endurance in the muscles so there’s a greater ability to focus on the flow of the actions.

For her, the incentive of working out to be better at Shim Gum Do was enough to keep her motivated and going back to the gym, in a way that nothing else had succeded in doing.

And, at least when it comes to motivation for exercise, the red-belt “speaks my mind” about the previous motivational difficulties about gyms & exercise. So perhaps her experience will prove prophetic for my future as well.

On scheduling and still seeking balance

Now available -- my contributions noted in the acknowlegements

In terms of Shim Gum Do training, making it to practice/class eight times in four weeks would probably be marked down at the low end of the acceptable commitment level.

But scheduling those four of those eight days in the first week, missing everything for two weeks, then attending four days in a row in the final week, is DEFINITELY not a good idea, as my aching back, shoulders and stiff knees will attest today.

I’m still, it seems, working through some of the fallout from the Dark December of last year. This is a pattern I need to be aware of -- when I start to feel better, I often force myself back to full steam before I’m really ready because I'm on the upswing and I don’t want to disappoint. Indeed, I practically turned into a vampire in terms of my hours of wakefulness for about two weeks -- literally falling asleep at dawn and awaking at dusk or later on a few occasions.

That said, in terms of sword practice, I’ve learned and am etching into memory (both mental and muscle) the Fourth Sword Form along with the Second Fighting Form. And next week I’m due to learn the Fifth Sword Form, which will be the three elements I need to master for my test for Green Belt.

I am reasonably confident that if I maintain a relatively consistent schedule of three or four classes per week (two or three during the week and Saturday), I should be in good shape for the test the weekend of March 20.

And as an additional incentive to ensure I’m at class regularly, as of next week, I’ll be joining the inhabitants of the temple for dinner on Wednesday nights. Hopefully this will also help me feel more connected to the community there (two of the three other adult ‘beginning’ students -- not black/brown belt or above -- actually live at the temple). It’s a feeling I had when I was around frequently while working on the poetry book and that I’ve kind of missed since finishing that project.

It will also likely help me, at least in part, in achieving better eating habits both in terms of remembering to eat both regular and healthy meals -- a pretty key part of achieving emotional and spiritual health, at least for this fellow.

In more Quaker and explicitly spiritual matters, I’m also excited to be a (small) part of helping my fellow YAFs step up our commitment to supporting each other in spiritual and emotional matters by being part of the group helping to bring forward a proposal for forming a committee to work on the pastoral care needs of the community. Thus far, that’s meant being part of a conference call and being willing to be a part of another, but hopefully I’ll also be a resource for (if not a member of) the committee when it comes together.

(Monkey)

I’m also starting to do more to put into practice an idea that germinated on the drive home from the Midwinter retreat -- forming an affinity group of fellow YAFs in the Boston area. For those not familiar with Quaker terminology, an affinity group is simply a group brought together by an interest, leading or calling around a particular topic -- even if that topic is as simple as mutual support and fellowship. It won’t be ‘striking while the iron is hot’ given that I’ve let a month lapse since the initial idea and tentative inquiries about who would be interested, but better late than never.

It’s (another) new year after all. Happy Year of the Fire Monkey!

My Solstice slump, the New Year rising and my first test weekend

Over the past few years especially, I have noticed a distinct seasonal component to my feelings of despondence, lack of motivation and despair. And in retrospect -- where SO many things are so much easier to see -- it is only natural that a lad raised in Florida from age 2 ½  to 10 would be at least partly solar-powered.

So in these cold, northern, and more importantly eastern, coordinates, when the days get shorter and the end of daylight savings time thoroughly screws anyone who isn’t up at 6 or 7 a.m. out of sunlight for most of the day, I really find my internal batteries running on empty quite easily.

Even protracted warm weather like we had in New England this year didn’t really help because it was often cloudy and it isn’t the heat I need, it’s the sun’s rejuvenating rays. Throw in a holiday, some sleep disruption and the benefit/curse of being able to set my own hours (and natural tendency to want to stay up late), and my system got all out of whack. And of course, I got a really nasty cold on top of everything else.

So December was a bit of a rough month for me. I maintained most of my obligations professionally and socially, but I didn’t attend a single Shim Gum Do class for the latter half of the month until the week before my test for Yellow Belt on Jan. 17th. Nor did I attend Quaker meeting either, missing both the pre-Christmas singing at Beacon Hill Friends Meeting as well as the special Christmas Eve worship.

Fortunately for me, the solstice comes before the New Year. And by the time everyone around me was turning their own thoughts to renewal, the days had been lengthening perhaps enough for me to feel like things were improving as well.

It was with that sense of optimism that I traveled to the Woolman Hill retreat center in Deerfield, Mass., for the Midwinter retreat of the NEYM Young Adult Friends (Jan 7-10), where the smell of the wood stoves burning for heat and the brilliant stars that can only be seen in a clear cold winter sky provided a welcome winter ritual I hadn’t realized I’d missed.

The retreat itself was also a wonderful, warm and caring environment for me to explore some of the issues that had been troubling me -- and to sneak away and practice my sword techniques just enough so I wouldn’t be going back to the temple completely cold and worying about having forgotten everything. Practice, as it turns out, is a pretty good cure for _that_ particular manifestation of anxiety.

As usual, it was great to see the wisdom and compassion they showed in leading workshops, interest groups and different styles of Quaker worship, especially the sometimes thorny issues that can (and did) come up in a meeting for worship with a concern for business. (Note, I use, “they” above, because with the exception of an interest group I pulled together on the fly that was more like a conversation than anything else, I was not _leading_ anything at the retreat). I’d go into more detail of my experiences, but this post is already verging on too lengthy and there will be a formal reflection with other YAFs this weekend (Jan 23) so I will leave those thoughts, as some Quakers are wont to say, for more seasoning.

This past weekend (Jan 16-17) was the first weekend when I was elligible to test to advance from white belt to yellow. The testing weekend consists of a mandatory workshop on Saturday in which the instructors, primarily Sa Bu Nim and Chong Kwan Jang Nim, can assess the students and ensure they are ready for the test, and then the tests themselves on Sunday.

I had been invited to participate in the last workshop in November even though I wasn’t elligible (or ready) to test then because of my work editing/translating Sa Bu Nim’s new poetry book. And it hadn’t been until that point that I realized that there are a number of other black belts and masters teaching their own students in other locations, which made the need for the workshop assessment more clear. Shim Gum Do tries not to bring a student forward to test until he or she is ready to pass.

So I was largely ready for what came Saturday: practice, but encouragement rather than criticism or nit-picking (I didn’t realize how to phrase it until later, but I was not going to be graded on the precise angles of my arms in each stance or the direction my feet were pointing after every step), along with some basic instructions of what to expect for the first test: the layout of the room, when and to whom to bow and to stop immediately if I made a mistake and ask to start the form over.

More important than any of that, though, was the meditation session. In meeting for worship, Quakers sometimes describe feeling the sense of the Holy Spirit or the Light moving within a gathered meeting, whether or not anyone speaks into the silence. Our belief in the divine nature of this feeling comes through the earliest Quakers referencing Matthew 18:20 (“For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them” KJV).

And although I was supposed to be “mind training” or practicing the sword forms in my meditation during the workshop, I had decided to use the meditation time as just unguided meditation. I was alone in the room with an unfamiliar master (who I later was introduced to as Hines Kwan Jang Nim) whose religious beliefs I certainly don’t know, but I still felt that same presence. To me, that was a welcome assurance that Shim Gum Do is, and will continue to be an important part of my spiritual journey for the forseeable future.

The (sharp) metal swords safely removed from learners like me

On actual test day itself: I got to watch one third degree black belt kick 3 thick wooden boards in half, a second third degree use a (sharp) metal sword to chop a hanging cucumber then spin around to attack and brutally slice in half a head-sized watermellon and a red-uniformed master execute a series of complicated rolls and twists in his form while wielding his own metal blade.

There was also the cohort of Shin Boep students (including quite a few children) advancing, who made an impressive line when it came to test their fighting forms.

As for me, I completed my forms with only two major mistakes, and I caught myself both times. So I advanced to the rank of Seventh Degree Yellow Belt. The journey continues.

Apologies for the absence

Hey all. In the last month since my last wtiting, the marching I mention got mired in a couple of difficulties and pleasant distractions including: the holidays, the release of Star Wars VII: The Force Awakens, and an uncommonly nasty case of the common cold. It’s really surprising how much time can disappear on you how quickly when you decide to let it.

In Quaker-ly things, I’m just returned from the NEYM Young Adult Friends Midwinter retreat, where I had a chance for some perhaps overdue spiritual reflection in a welcoming, safe yet challenging (in an encouraging way) space. More reflections from that are sure to come, but practically, the intensity and long hours (read: lack of sleep) has either prompted my existing cold to come back with a vengeance or I contracted another strain from one of the other Friends from elsewhere who joined in the gathering.

I also, after a month of complete slacking in practice, must prepare myself to test for Yellow Belt in Shim Gum Do this weekend. I took some time at the retreat to practice my forms (and found that I haven’t forgotten them completely), but I’m going to have to do some intense practice this week if I’m going to feel prepared to test. And if I’m not ready/don’t test, then I suppose I get to practice patience and wait another two months until the next test and find other ways to make myself useful around the temple.

Also, having mentioned Star Wars, here’s a review from a western sword enthusiast/historian/martial artist of the final fight/lighsaber duel in Force Awakens. Warning CONTAINS SPOILERS (so go see the movie already, it’s been weeks!):

On marching forward

Last week I alluded to the fact that I’ve learned all of the forms (three sword forms and one sword fighting form) that a white belt can learn before testing for (and passing and advancing to) yellow belt. And I plan to use the time over the next month (before I can test in mid-January) productively to practice the forms I know and work on the foundational movements in the basic forms as well.

But I also have ADD -- something that was diagnosed close to 20 years ago and that I’ve learned to work with. An interest in different subjects and a somewhat constant search for something new are good traits for a journalist. Those traits, however, may not be so beneficial in whatever my career looks like next. And when it comes to sword training, in the last few weeks or so it has manifested itself as a desire to learn more about various other historical forms of swordplay -- specifically (this time) an interest in figuring out some of the training and sword techniques of the Greek hoplites and the Roman legionaries.

I even went as far as getting myself a (hardened plastic) “waster” sword modeled on a gladius (I watched a YouTube video in which a sword collector warned that it can be addictive -- he’s right, even when it comes to just wooden and plastic training weapons) and am researching replica shields for price and historical accuracy, primarily in terms of use and weight -- aside: I suspect most of the replicas I’ve seen people using on YouTube are significantly lighter than the scutum would have actually been, which Wiki (citing Cambridge University Press) says should have been about 22 lbs!

But perhaps the more valuable lesson came recently. I’ve put my part of the poetry project “to bed” (as we used to say in dead-tree journalism). I’ve hit a couple of other personal milestones. I’ve answered a few questions about how to discern my path moving forward (even though I know I need to figure out the right questions before I start looking for the right answers). But I was nevertheless feeling pretty down as I looked forward.

Then, with the unseasonably warm weather in Boston providing a little extra motivation this morning, I decided to go for a walk. I put on some upbeat music and set out -- “marching” I joked to myself. Then I remembered something I’d stumbled across in my research of Roman training techniques: they started with marching. And more marching. And then more marching. All while under the weight of a lot of gear until the recruit got used to carrying it.

So to some extent, maybe what I’m doing now is marching: getting used to the weight of new responsibilities, commitments, burdens and accountability as I move forward.

“I don’t know where I am going, but I am on my way.” - Voltaire

Picture from: Diary of a Roman Soldier in Britannia

Another unexpected path

So, I was thinking about Thanksgiving and gratitude and the sometimes daunting tasks facing those with a concern about social justice in the world today in the wake of the tragedies that have given rise to the #BlackLivesMatter movement and the fight for women’s rights and reproductive health after the #PlannedParenthood shooting (and the intersection of the two in that the white shooter in the latter -- a cop-killer -- was apprehended alive when unarmed and unquestionably innocent black people have wound up dead in very much less dangerous circumstances).

With all of that to work with, I had thought that this week’s post might be more Quaker and less Shim Gum Do. But I was okay with that and was going to run with it.

Until I discovered that Sa Bu Nim wants my final edits on all 100 poems of the forthcoming book done post-haste.

So this week is the Shim Poetry Do -- at least until that’s done

It took precedence over sword training Monday & today. Hopefully with better time management on my part (especially now that I know that the deadline is Friday) I’ll be able to make it to class tomorrow and Thursday. 

Fortunately I’m in something of a holding pattern: I’ve learned all of the forms I can until I advance to Yellow Belt but the next test isn’t until the middle of January. So as I told Chong Kwan Ja Nim tonight, I have nothing to do but obsess over getting all the details correct for the next month.

In the interim, I shared with a friend a part of one of my personal daily prayers a while back and it seems appropriate to share all of it here this week. It’s a reworking of the Serenity Prayer (and subject to ongoing editing):

God,

Grant me the wisdom to know the difference,

between the things that I can change and those that I cannot.

The strength and courage to change the things I can,

and the fortitude to take on daunting tasks,

knowing that your Spirit and the people You have put in my life will sustain me.

And the serenity to accept that not all burdens are mine, as I am in this moment, to shoulder,

as well as the understanding that things that today may seem like failure may, in fact, represent great progress.

On veterans and violence

With the distance of another week from the Paris attacks -- and Beirut and Mali and action in Belgium and another possible instance of police brutality against an unarmed black man in the United States in the interim -- I haven’t really come any closer to clarity in my own mind on the issues of war, non-violence, pacifism, passive resistance in the face of a militarized police force and where I stand.

This was what I had written (offline) before Friday of last week:

Veteran’s Day brings up difficult emotions for this Quaker and struggling pacifist.
It is the anniversary of and still commemorates the day the guns fell silent on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918 -- ending the “Great War,” the war that at the time was thought so terrible they called it “the war to end all wars.” Sadly the promise of that name was not realized and new generations of veterans are honored today. 

In the Great War, World War II, in all of the wars of this country’s history some Quakers have stood apart -- holding to our Peace Testimony, that we shall not participate in war and act for a better world in which war is not necessary -- while others have found ways to serve where they would not themselves kill, as medics, for example. And others have served, many with distinction. [Medal of Honor recipient Sgt. Alvin York, contrary to the movie, was not himself a Quaker though he apparently did belong to a different branch with some history or tradition in that direction as he first registered for the draft as a conscientious objector -- but was turned down]. And yet others who believed in the testimony but had their CO status rejected went to jail rather than serve.

When I was younger these issues seemed so much simpler. I put my name in the rolls as a conscientious objector to war with an organization devoted to peace (the name of which I have since forgotten) and proclaimed myself a pacifist even before I actually registered with the selective service.

Even a few years ago, in a backyard conversation with a cousin -- an Irish Army veteran now serving in the U.S. military -- and a gun-owning uncle, I said with (perhaps alcohol-fueled) conviction that I wouldn’t kill, even in self defense or defense of a loved one. I said at the time that I hoped I would have the courage to die first, standing up in the face of violence and holding to my beliefs.

But as my relatives reminded me at the time, some (much?) of my freedom to do that is dependent on those who have taken other stands. On the soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines who have defended the U.S. (and England, where the Society of Friends was born). To some greater or lesser extent, my personal security is protected by police officers who are willing to use force (though in England, most police are able to complete their functions without firearms and the immediate threat of deadly force).

And now there is the stark reminder that today’s wars do not have battle lines or zones of war and peace (they never really did -- just ask the civilians of England during the Blitz or the citizens of Dresden or Hiroshima).

The broader task of a Quaker is clearly to work for a better world, one in which the dream of those in 1918 might be realized -- a world without war; a world with real peace, not just an absence of conflict.

But in watching the video adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s book “The Man in the High Castle” on Amazon Prime (yes, I read it years ago; no I didn’t reread it again recently because I wanted to give the show a fair shot on its own merits), I’m again reminded that some of the greatest successes of passive resistance -- Gandhi in India, the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. in the U.S. civil rights movement -- have come through appealing to the humanity of the oppressors; if not those immediately there, then those in the broader society. But as one reviewer put it in Slate.com writing about The Man in the High Castle, Ghandi shamed the British in India; King forced northerners to see the oppressive acts of whites in the south and they were shamed and horrified by it.

But if Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan had conquered the world, could those tactics have succeeded? The Slate writer’s conclusion was that in states with controlled (i.e. censored) media and policies of extermination of dissidents and undesirables it could not. And that’s hard to argue against.

The parallel today is to wonder how one can appeal to the humanity of people who routinely behead, rape and try to commit genocides of their own, simply because their neighbors do not subscribe to their particular brand of belief.

All I can say is that for now, I am a long way away from finding an answer. Likewise it’ll be a long time before I come to any real position where anything I learn in Shim Gum Do plays any role in decisions of personal pacifism or not.

I was reminded this week by Chong Kwan Ja Nim (World Head Master Mary Stackhouse Kim) that although the techniques of Shim Gum Do are described in martial terms, they are primarily descriptions of movements. And within each form and the steps of each technique is a poem or allegory in the movement. According to the text, part of the first basic form, “represents that Shim Gum Do unites the heaven with the earth. On the personal journey to gain knowledge and wisdom, one’s foundation and ambition must become one.” Other parts of the basic forms represent the yin and the yang, the notion of reaching down to help someone up and sending them on their way.

The form that I’m working to master now includes motions representing how the Buddha, at the end of six years of meditation, lifted his eyes to the horizon, saw the morning star, became enlightened and proclaimed it. So while some instructors, and my previous instincts from free-form fencing, may focus on pointing out how the movements can be used in attack and defense, I think I would do well to remember the broader perspective and keep my mind on the moving meditation.

Image from: PBS 'The Buddha' - Enlightenment 

So much for my self-imposed Sunday deadline

When I started doing this, my goal was at least one post per week, updated on Sunday night or Monday morning.

This week, I was contemplating nice and simple subjects like war and peace and pacifism to begin with -- prompted by Veteran's Day last Wednesday.

Then Friday happened.

And yeah, I hadn't heard about the bombings in Beirut before the attacks in Paris, but both are tragic.

So I'm still working out what I think, much less what I wish to say on the subject.

I'll have my next update for you soon.

“I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by.”

― Douglas Adams, The Salmon of Doubt

On responsibilities, rushing and learning to slow down

Even before I actually began practicing Shim Gum Do, I approached Mary Jeanette Stackhouse Kim, the World Shim Gum Do Head Master and abbot (or abbess if you prefer) of the temple about the prospect of exchanging some of my services for free or reduced class fees. I thought my writing background might prove useful in helping rework the web site (www.simgumdo.org), or that I might use my journalism training to help transcribe Sa Bu Nim’s monthly Dharma talks on Zen.

(Image from shimgumdo.org)

But, as it turns out, the masters had other plans for me. Sa Bu Nim is a prolific poet and they’ve enlisted me to help translate and edit the poems of his next book. It’s a fascinating process with the abbot and I trying to capture the images and ideas the Zen Master has crafted in Korean into English phrases, while matching the tone and tenor of his previous books.

It’s clear to me that I couldn’t do the work with Sa Bu Nim alone. His accent has led me to mistake simple words and my limited understanding of his Zen teaching has sometimes sent my brain searching for the completely wrong image to explain more difficult concepts. And even though at times I joke about being more hindrance than help, or that I am more useful in bringing my Korean-made phone with a stylus so Sa Bu Nim can access the sometimes dubious help of Google translate, Abbot Stackhouse Kim assures me that my contributions are valuable.

Translating poetry, though, is not a quick or easy process. And Sa Bu Nim hopes to have a hundred poems in this book ready early after the beginning of the year -- with all of the other work that entails: layout, copy editing, proofing, typesetting and other aspects of publishing that I don’t even know about.

So there is a real sense of urgency to complete this work, both at the level of each poem and for me in finding hours to come in to work with them. And it is a huge honor to be asked to help with this work. And I’m getting a real education in Zen philosophy as I do it.

But.

If only my week were only as simple as the calender makes it look

I have other responsibilities that I wonder if I’m neglecting. Most obviously, I’ve cut down my volunteer hours with the Perkins School for the Blind. I don’t think the quality of my work for my commercial clients is suffering, but one of them, who also has a deadline approaching, frankly hasn’t gotten as much attention as it deserves.

So it’s probably time to slow down and be more deliberate in my actions and commitments.

When I first came to Boston, I was following the advice of a sage in Worcester to emulate a fly rather than an ant. For many people, this fellow told me, the way an ant works is fine, traveling mostly in straight lines toward its goals. But I’d gotten myself trapped in a bottle, he said. And an ant trapped in a bottle will spend a lot of time walking in circles around the bottom of the inside of the bottle, not realizing the way it needs for escape is up.

A fly trapped in the bottle will frenetically zip in all directions at top speed, often crashing into the walls of the bottle, frequently seeming to make no progress. But that approach will likely lead to freedom before the more methodical way of the ant -- and besides, he said, it’s more suited to my temperament anyway.

At the time, the approach was appropriate. I was wandering and seeking a path. Now that I feel closer to having found one, perhaps it’s time to emulate the ant more than the fly for a while.

On listening and leadings

So as I mentioned in the first post it seemed like coincidence that Google driving directions would take me past this temple. But as the days and weeks passed I started to feel more powerfully drawn to check it out - to see what this Shim Gum Do thing was about.

And as time has passed, decisions that I've made around it have led to other coincidences; some so unlikely that I’m starting to think that I may have to remove the word 'coincidence' from my vocabulary. In one particularly stunning example, I was meeting with a friend who teaches yoga to work out some stretches to compensate for the strange new movements I'm inflicting on my body with this Korean zen sword work.

So she could get a better sense of what muscles and tendons I should be working on, she asked me to demonstrate the techniques I was working on. While doing this we were observed by a passerby  (it was basically in plain view of the street) who had studied Japanese sword techniques for more than 20 years. He gave me some pointers in Russian - accented English while talking about how seeing my basic drills took him back to when he was just a beginner.

All of that was incredible enough, but I wasn't even supposed to be in Boston that day. That was the weekend of a spiritual retreat for Young Adult Friends of the New England Yearly Meeting. I’d generally been planning on spending the weekend in Providence with Friends, attending workshops, catching up and enjoying the moments both serious and whimsical that I've found at these retreats recently, as well as way back when I was in high school.

But because I was new to the practice of Shim Gum Do (and because I'd missed one of the weeknight classes) I'd decided it was important for me to go back to Boston Friday night (and it was _late_) so I could go to Shim Gum Do in the morning - which, in turn, made the meet-up with my yoga-teaching friend possible.

Sunrise at Providence Monthly Meeting 

This is an extreme example, but these sorts of things seem to be happening with some frequency. So I wonder about describing what I'm feeling as a leading to pursue this study. But “leading” can be a loaded term for Quaker practice. Sometimes it implies a real spiritual calling to do something that can and should be tested by the wisdom of the elders of the Quaker community before taking action (usually something drastic like quitting a job or going to do relief work in a war zone or getting married or other equally catastrophic life changing events).

I also wonder if these ‘leadings’ are coming to me now because I  am more open to them, because I am somehow now more ready for the tasks that may be ahead. Or perhaps the calls have always been there and I just haven't been able to hear or recognize them.

When I lived in Washington D.C., I remember occasionally being amused by the pigeons and other birds that sometimes found their way into Union Station. But it wasn’t until I was waiting for an Amtrak departure at something like 2 a.m. that I noticed I could hear them cooing and chirping up in the rafters. With all the rush and bustle during the day, the quiet sounds of the birds were inaudible.*

So perhaps this voice that seems at times like It’s shouting for me to do something, to start down this path with an unknown destination, is really just the “still small voice of God” that we Quakers listen for, hoping for guidance. And perhaps it just seems so loud because It’s spent so many years trying to be heard over all the other distractions with which I had filled my life. 

I definitely have fewer distractions and impediments to listening today. And as I've said before, I’m also trying to pay attention. I expect that helps as well.

• -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   •

*I stumbled across the idea of a spiritual message as birdsong in a noisy background in my reading a long time ago and it's stuck with me since. The specific image I read was that of songbirds in a factory, I think. But as a nearly identical set of circumstances happened to me in the Amtrak/Metro station, I went with that one above. It’s not an original metaphor but it did happen.

On first impressions and first experiences (Part 2)

The first week of training was also overwhelming in terms of the physical techniques and forms to be learned. A student first has to learn the eight basic forms before instructions can even begin on the first sword form. It’s a lot of unfamiliar movements in a sequence that has to be remembered quickly and precisely. And my first night, it was a challenge to put together the squats, defenses and thrusts of the first two basic forms correctly, when, as is the custom, Sa Bu Nim came into class to allow the students to demonstrate their most advanced forms.

Normally beginners like myself aren't asked to demonstrate their progress until they advance beyond the basics, but that evening Sa Bu Nim asked me to show him what I'd learned.

The good thing about moving meditation like Shim Gum Do, at least for me, is that I have to focus entirely on what I'm doing in the moment. So the presence of more advanced students watching, including black belts and masters, didn’t enter my mind. All I knew was myself and the instructions of my teacher giving what seemed like slight, but were in fact critical corrections.

(Sa Bu Nim demonstrating the basic techniques as pictured in the manual of course material)

One of the other students later told me, though, that they had all found that instruction informative, a new look at the correct way to perform the most basic, foundational techniques.

At my second class that week (Wednesday - I'd missed Tuesday due to a prior commitment), Sa Bu Nim also offered more personal instruction, after asking if I had learned the first sword form and perhaps not being satisfied with my progress. And It’s hard to explain how exciting the attention was, yet there was also a fear of disappointing him - of wasting his time - based partly in the knowledge that I was deliberately moving slowly because I was not doing any practice outside class time at the temple.

Part of that came from a concern that without an instructor, I wouldn't remember the order of the techniques (since remedied by getting the textbook, "The First Star Black Belt Forms of Shim Gum Do Zen Sword"). But the other concern is that I just don't have another place to practice.

Something tells me that my neighbors might respond poorly to the sight of a guy swinging a Samurai - style sword around in a parking lot on the Dorchester - Roxbury line. (I have visions of flashing blue lights, yelling, lying face down in the asphalt, handcuffs and hopefully not tazers or gunfire.) But ‘mind training’ - meditation on the forms I'm learning - can make up for some of that too.

Two evening classes that first week, followed by a Saturday session of class, floor washing and then another class made a pretty good start. But since then, I've been trying to make three evening classes as well as Saturday each week. Knowing I need to attend as many classes as I can to get the greatest benefit from the training - physically as well as mentally and spiritually - definitely threw a wrench into my plans of establishing more settled routine. But I think this definitely qualifies as a ‘creative disruption’ and an antidote to any tendencies I have to get too sedate or idle - and the training was just the start.