Walmart in Columbus Ohio. The elder was left in the car. Her family were in the process of moving and had all the silverware and kitchen stuff in the car, she cut herself out of the seatbelt because she didn't know how to unbuckle it.
lunes, 31 de diciembre de 2012
bad judgment
Walmart in Columbus Ohio. The elder was left in the car. Her family were in the process of moving and had all the silverware and kitchen stuff in the car, she cut herself out of the seatbelt because she didn't know how to unbuckle it.
Professor Yamashita Goes to Washington
A slightly different version of this article appeared in Aikido Journal, 25:2 (1998). Copyright © 2000 Joseph R. Svinth. All rights reserved.
matter? For any pioneer, it is not a matter of harvesting, but of sowing.
-- Yoshiaki (Yoshitsugu) Yamashita, circa 1887
In 1902, a wealthy Seattle businessman named Sam Hill was routinely working ten hours a day, six days a week. This prolonged absence caused his nine-year old son to turn "sickly," as being spoiled and selfish was then known. Rather than spend more time with the boy, Hill decided that judo, which he had seen demonstrated during a recent business trip to Japan, would be just the thing to imbue young James Nathan Hill "with the ideals of the Samurai class, for that class of men is a noble, high-minded class. They look beyond the modern commercial spirit."
Hill therefore asked I. Shibata, a Japanese friend living in New Haven, Connecticut, to find him a good judo teacher. In February 1903, Shibata told Hill of a Professor Yoshiaki (Yoshitsugu) Yamashita of Tokyo. [EN1]
Yamashita was born in Kanazawa City, in Ishikawa Prefecture, on February 16, 1865. The son of a minor samurai, he received some martial art training as a youth. In August 1884 he became the nineteenth member of Jigoro Kano’s Kodokan Dojo, where he began studying the jujutsu style that later became known as judo.
Photo courtesy of the Joseph R.
Svinth collection.
Svinth collection.
Despite all the stories about how it took years to get rank in the old days, Yamashita earned his 1-dan ranking after just three months at Kano’s school. Subsequent promotions continued apace, and he received his 4-dan after just two years. He was further promoted to 6-dan in 1898, and, upon his death in October 1935, he became the first person to receive posthumous promotion to 10-dan. Highly educated and urbane – he spoke good English and wrote beautiful Japanese – Yamashita quickly became a top-notch instructor. His postings included the Imperial Japanese Naval Academy and Tokyo Imperial University.
Yamashita’s skill was not solely theoretical, either. He was a member of the Kodokan teams that wrestled the Tokyo police jujutsu club in 1883 and 1884, and in 1946, the British judo pioneer E.J. Harrison, who studied judo at the Kodokan around 1905, told the following stories of Professor Yamashita’s practical fighting skills in the Budokwai Quarterly Bulletin:
It chanced that some years before I joined the Kodokwan Yamashita and a friend were assaulted by seventeen coolies in a Tokyo meat-shop – a sort of popular restaurant. Although some of the coolies were armed with knives the gang were dispersed in a twinkling, three of them with broken arms and all with bruised and battered faces. [EN2]
As fast as one of the two experts artistically ‘downed’ his man the other would pick the victim up like an empty sack and dump him unceremoniously in the street. The only evidence of the conflict on the side of the two experts took the form of skinned knuckles where the latter had come in contact with the coolies’ teeth. On another occasion Yamashita fell foul of a coolie in the upper room of a restaurant and promptly threw him downstairs.
The coolie returned to the fray with fourteen comrades, but Yamashita calmly sat at the head of the stairs and as fast as the coolies came up in single file, owing to the narrowness of the passage, he simple choked them in detail and hurled them back down again. In the excitement of the moment he was rather rougher than was strictly necessary, and so broke one man’s neck. The rest fled in terror, carrying off their dead and wounded. Yamashita was arrested, but as he was easily able to prove that he had been one man against fifteen he was, of course, acquitted. Nevertheless, the Kodokwan temporarily suspended him for his conduct, which was deemed unduly violent.
Hill knew none of this, however. All he knew was that his friend in Connecticut said that Yamashita was a good judo teacher, that judo was supposed to build character in boys, and that his son James Nathan was badly in need of stronger character. So Hill wrote Yamashita on July 21, 1903, saying:
Referring to the correspondence between Mr. I. Shibata and myself regarding your coming to America, I beg to state that I am now ready to carry out my proposition to you as made in February last.
My son will be next year in the city of Washington, D.C., from the first of October on. I have arranged so that if you will call at the office of the Nippon Yusen Kaisha [Japan Mail Lines] [EN3] in Tokyo they will furnish you transportation for yourself and your wife from Yokohama and Seattle, and I will pay for same. The steamship ‘Shinano Maru’ leaves Yokohama on the 22nd of September. If possible, I should like you to sail at that time. I shall, of course, furnish you with a railroad ticket from Seattle to Washington, D.C. for yourself and wife as well.
I am greatly interested in this matter and believe that you will do well, and I am very anxious that my boy should learn the art.
Trusting that you will be able to come to America and that I may hear from you at earliest moment to that effect.
To which Yamashita responded on August 26, 1903:
In reply to your favor I am very glad to inform you that we are ready to start for America on the 22nd of September on board ‘Shinano Maru’ as you so kindly arranged for us.
I had been much bothered about how to show you the true art of our ‘jujutsu’ before accepting your proposition because I was afraid that there is no Japanese resident there who is able to show you the art as my opponent, but fortunately I have got a young Japanese gentleman, one of my pupils who is very clever and whose father is a judge of the Tokyo Supreme Court, who voluntarily applied to go to America with us at his own expense which I have gladly consented to.
Asking you to give our kindest regards to Mrs. Samuel Hill and your son.
So, on September 23, 1903 the 38-year old Yamashita, his 25-year old wife Fude, and his 19-year old assistant Saburo Kawaguchi boarded the SS Shinano Maru in Yokohama. Since Hill was paying his fare, Yamashita traveled first-class. On the other hand, Kawaguchi traveled second-class, doubtless because his father was paying his way. Still, neither man traveled steerage. So when they arrived in Seattle fifteen days later Yamashita proudly told immigrations officials that he was a professor hired to teach "jujitsu" to Mr. Hill’s children. Kawaguchi just as proudly proclaimed himself Professor Yamashita’s assistant.
On Saturday, October 17, 1903 Yamashita and Kawaguchi gave a judo exhibition at the Seattle Theatre. This was a private show, not a public one; the theater was between shows, and Hill hired it for the evening. Guests included Sam Hill’s mother-in-law Mary Hill (wife of railroader J.J. Hill, the man of whom it was said, "In the West there are many mountains, but only one Hill,"), Senator Russell Alger (a Republican from Michigan, and a former Secretary of War), and several Seattle sports writers. So far as I know, this was the first time Kodokan judo was shown to a non-Japanese audience in North America. (Since journalist H. Irving Hancock had begun studying jujutsu in New York City as early as 1896, this statement refers solely to Kodokan judo.)
During his show, Yamashita told the audience that judo was a word meaning "victory by pliancy or yielding." What this meant, he was quoted in the Post-Intelligencer as saying, was that:
Furthermore, judo was an exercise in Social Darwinism:
Speeches done, Yamashita and Kawaguchi demonstrated various throws and holds for the crowd. People seeing such demonstrations for the first time invariably thought that they were prearranged gymnastics rather than real wrestling. Sportswriter Ed Hughes of the Seattle Times, for example, wrote in January 1912 that:
Doubtless thinking the same thing, Hill quietly arranged for Yamashita to meet someone who was not part of his personal troupe. After all, he wanted a jujutsu teacher, not an acrobat. Toward this end, Hill arranged a bout with some professional wrestlers in Seattle. When the wrestlers failed to appear, he substituted a guest named C.E. Radclyffe, a 210-pound Englishman who was a properly trained amateur boxer. According to the British wrestling writer Percy Longhurst, writing in Superman Magazine in May 1936, "Here is what the boxer has to say about the encounter:"
His worries about the Professor’s abilities gone, Hill then took his Japanese to the District of Columbia to meet James Nathan Hill. What James Nathan thought of the Professor and his judo is unknown, but as James Nathan was notoriously lazy, what he had to say about it is probably better imagined than repeated.
For Yamashita, the trip east was hardly wasted. For one thing, he got to see a lot of railroads along the way, which after all may have been one reason for the trip in the first place. (Yamashita’s sponsors included several leading Japanese industrialists.) For another, he had no trouble finding a job teaching judo to the children of the Washington elite. While his regular students were mostly rich men’s daughters -- Irving Hancock’s Physical Training for Women by Japanese Methods (1904) was then quite fashionable -- he didn’t mind, as according to an article in the New York World, Yamashita’s only requirement in his judo classes was "an absolute good temper." His wife was equally fortunate, and her students included the
daughters of the Democratic vice-presidential candidate and a former governor of Mississippi. [EN4]
While in the District of Columbia, Professor Yamashita gave some lessons at the Japanese Legation. The Japanese naval attaché, Lieutenant Commander Isamu Takeshita, was from a samurai family and knew a good thing when he saw it – in 1926, he persuaded aikido founder Morihei Ueshiba to move to Tokyo, and in 1935 he introduced aiki budo, as aikido was then known, into the United States. [EN5] So it is hardly surprising that in March 1904, he also arranged for Professor Yamashita to meet with President Theodore Roosevelt in the White House.
As Roosevelt put it in a letter to his sons, he believed in "rough, manly sports" so long as they did not "degenerate into the sole end of one’s existence… character counts for a great deal more than either intellect or body in winning success in life." And he thought he knew all about jujutsu. After all, in 1902, his wrestling instructor, a Philadelphia policeman named James J. O’Brien, had shown him some tricks he had learned in Japan. (O’Brien had been a constable at Nagasaki's Umegasaki Station from 1895 to 1899, so the instruction was legitimate.)
According to an article published in Literary Digest in August 1927, O’Brien began his demonstration by showing Roosevelt some technical illustrations. Suddenly Roosevelt stopped at a photo of a woman sticking her stiffened fingers into a man’s eyes.
A little worried lest this maneuver should make an unfavorable impression, the Captain [O’Brien] stammered:
Colonel Roosevelt’s response, according to a writer in the Philadelphia Public Ledger, was reassuring.
No matter. What Yamashita showed was a complete system rather than a few simple tricks. And, despite what everyone thought, his acts were not prearranged: they were that good. Therefore, in the words of the New York World, Yamashita and his partner "caused Mr. Roosevelt to quit winking and gasp. They showed him what jiu-jitsu really is and they were engaged on the spot."
Although The World reported that there were seven degrees in jiu-jitsu, and Roosevelt intended to have at least five of them, Roosevelt’s primary goal in all this was not rank, but weight reduction. Since becoming President, his weight had soared to over 220 pounds, and he hoped to be down to 200 by the elections. So, during March and April 1904, Roosevelt practiced judo three afternoons a week, using a ground floor office in the White House as his workout space. Then, for the rest of the summer, he practiced occasionally. He stopped training during the elections, and there is no record showing that he resumed his studies afterward.
The President’s training partners included his sons, his private secretary, the Japanese naval attaché, Secretary of War William Howard Taft, and Secretary of the Interior Gifford Pinchot. When these people were unavailable, then Roosevelt tried his tricks on husky young visitors. The latter included Robert Johnstone Mooney, who with his brother visited the White House on the afternoon of Thursday, August 18, 1904. According to an article published in The Outlook in October 1923, Mooney’s brother was a noted amateur boxer. So, after doing a little sparring with the two young men, Roosevelt:
jiu-jitsu?’
We replied in the negative, and he continued, pounding the air with his arms, ‘You must promise me to learn that without delay. You are so good in other athletics that you must add jiu-jitsu to your other accomplishments. Every American athlete ought to understand the Japanese system thoroughly. You know’ – and he smiled reminiscently – ‘I practically introduced it to the Americans. I had a young Japanese – now at Harvard [A. Kitagaki] – here for six months, and I tried jiu-jitsu with him day after day. But he always defeated me. It was not easy to learn. However, one day I got him – I got him – good and plenty! I threw him clear over my head on his belly, and I had it. I had it.’
The president probably agreed with these statements. For example, on March 5, 1904 he wrote his son Kermit:
A month later, he wrote his son Theodore Jr.:
Yamashita left Washington around May 1904. Apparently someone – probably Hill or Roosevelt -- had suggested that he teach judo to Harvard football players, thereby reducing their risk of death or serious injury. But this never occurred, as at the insistence of President Roosevelt, Yamashita instead took a position teaching judo at the US Naval Academy.
Yamashita started at the Naval Academy in January 1905. Training took place Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons. He earned $1,666 for the semester, but had to pay his own assistants. The class had about 25 students.
While teaching these classes Yamashita constantly stressed that what he taught was a gentlemanly art rather than something done by ruffians or professional wrestlers. Opinions regarding the quality of his instruction varied widely. According to the Army and Navy Journal for February 18, 1905 some believed "it was the best possible means of physical training, while others regard it of little value, indeed, of positive harm as inculcating unfair and unsportsmanlike ideas of physical contests."
Such debates occurred throughout North America during 1905. Much of the debate was engendered by the Russo-Japanese War, in which Japanese propagandists routinely attributed their successes to military judo training. And Irving Hancock and Robert Edgren, a pair of journalists who were touting the wrestling skills of a jujutsu man named Katsukuma Higashi, engendered more. [EN6] While the latter grossly exaggerated Higashi’s actual ability – he lost in three straight falls to an American wrestler named George Bothner in April 1905, and in minutes to a British judoka named Yukio Tani in November 1905 – the hype generated much controversy. Wanting to know the answer for himself, on Thursday, February 23, 1905 the President arranged a private match between Professor Yamashita and a middleweight catch-as-catch-can wrestler named Joseph Grant. In a letter to his son Kermit, Roosevelt described the outcome:
As it turned out, the Military Academy hired a retired world champion wrestler named Tom Jenkins instead, and never once regretted the decision.
Three weeks later Yamashita, Kitagaki, and Midshipmen McConnell, Piersol, Ghormley, and Heim gave their first public judo demonstration. [EN8] While the crowd watched politely, it greatly preferred the boxing and wrestling shows that followed. A second show given in May 1905 met an equally cool response. Said the Army and Navy Journal afterward:
Although disappointed by this response, Yamashita left Annapolis in June fully expecting to be rehired in the fall, and the only judo he did publicly during the summer of 1905 was for a Russo-Japanese War benefit held at the Lafayette Theatre in Washington, DC on June 30. His partner in this demonstration was Saburo Koshiba of Tokyo. Then, come October, the Naval Academy told Yamashita that it had no money for a judo program and that his services were no longer required.
Understandably upset, Yamashita complained to friends at the Japanese Legation that he had turned down several jobs during the summer, thinking that the Navy would be rehiring him in the fall. And, as this left him with insufficient funds for another year in America, he began making plans to return to Japan.
About the same time that Yamashita was packing his bags, President Roosevelt happened to ask the Japanese ambassador how his former judo teacher was doing. Upon hearing the answer, the President asked the Secretary of the Navy if there was some reason that Yamashita should not be rehired for at least one more year. As Secretary Charles J. Bonaparte could not think of a reason he cared to tell the President, he immediately sent a letter to the new Superintendent of the Naval Academy, Rear Admiral James H. Sands, asking him to "please take the necessary steps to comply with the wishes of the President." As one would expect, Admiral Sands in turn wasted no time telling his staff to find a way of funding the President’s judo program.
Within two weeks the Naval Academy staff had designed a curriculum and moved $1,700 into the appropriate budget. Admiral Sands then asked Yamashita to please come by his office in Annapolis "to arrange for the course of instruction in Judo." On December 4, 1905, Admiral Sands signed a contract with Yamashita in which the latter was to give fifty one-hour lessons at $33.33 per lesson. The class was taught during the first half of 1906. On May 6, 1906 Admiral Sands wrote the Navy Department to say that the course had been completed, but suggested that it not be repeated in 1907, as it was the opinion of both himself and his staff that "a knowledge of Jiu-jitsu is not of great value to those who are being prepared for a life on shipboard." President Roosevelt once again begged to differ, and so money was allocated for the purpose of bringing Yamashita back for a third year. But following the end of the 1906 academic year Yamashita left the United States for Japan, and on July 24 he attended an important judo conference held in Kyoto. His absence was hardly remarked by the US Navy, which did nothing more with judo until 1943. [EN9]
Meanwhile, back in Seattle, Sam Hill was annoyed. He had brought Yamashita to America to teach judo to his son, and then the Professor had deserted James Nathan for that damned cowboy in the White House. So, for the rest of his life, Hill would complain to anyone who would listen that Roosevelt had "taken away from Harvard my judo man without my permission or even asking."
And with that proclamation, Kodokan judo quit being of much interest to Seattle’s elite, and instead became something done almost entirely by the sons of Japanese immigrants.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Financial support from the Japanese American National Museum and King County Landmarks and Heritage Commission contributed to the completion of this article.
The assistance of Richard Bowen, Alice S. Creighton (US Naval Academy, Nimitz Library, Special Collections), Wallace Dailey (Harvard College Library, Theodore Roosevelt Collection), Shinji Kozu, William J. Long, Judith Sibley (US Military Academy Archives, Special Collections), Robert W. Smith, and David Waterhouse is also gratefully acknowledged.
ENDNOTES
EN1. The ideogram used to write Yamashita’s first name could be transliterated as Yoshitsugu, Yoshiaki, or Yoshikazu. In Kodokan documents it is usually transliterated Yoshiaki, but his passport in 1903 read Yoshitsugu.
EN2. The assault was probably politically motivated. In Revue Judo Kodokan, II (September 1952), 125, Kainan Shimomura wrote, "Yokoyama and Yamashita, the pioneers of Judo,
were appointed Professors to the State Police Force, following on a Gala of Budo (martial arts) during which different Schools of Jujutsu opposed one another, but the numerous Societies of the ancient Jujutsu, which continued to exist, despised the ‘Judo of Kodokan’ at the bottom of their hearts. Encounters between Professors of the State were the exception. However
public opinion got so worked up that in January 1891 an inter-group combat took place…"
EN3. On August 31, 1896, the steamer SS Miike Maru became the first NYK ship to enter Puget Sound. The ship carried 186 tons of cargo and one steerage passenger to Seattle and on its return to Japan carried six first-class and 33 steerage passengers. Thus the arrival of the NYK initially reduced Seattle’s Japanese population by 9%! For further
details, see http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/centennial/january/partners.html.
EN4. For details, see "Jiu-Jitsu for Women: Sandow's Magazine," http://ejmas.com/jalt/jaltframe.htm.
EN5. See Stanley Pranin's article at http://omlc.ogi.edu/aikido/talk/osensei/bio/mori4.html
and Joseph Svinth, "Aikido Comes to America, September 1935," at Volume I of Journal of Combative Sport at http://ejmas.com/jcs/jcsframe.htm.
EN6. See, for example, "The Fearful Art of Jiu-Jitsu" by Robert Edgren at http://ejmas.com/jcs/jcsframe.htm.
EN7. In March 1918, Peyton C. March became Chief of Staff, US Army, a position he held until retirement in January 1921. Frank W. Coe became the Chief of Coast Artillery in May 1918, a position he held until retirement in March 1926. For a biographical sketch and portrait
of General March, see http://www.army.mil/cmh-pg/books/cg&csa/March-PC.htm.
EN8. Between 1881 and 1906, sixteen Japanese attended the US Naval Academy. A. Kitagaki, however, failed to gain admission because in 1906 Congress passed laws that prohibited the Academy from accepting foreign students. Robert L. Ghormley of Moscow, Idaho played three years of varsity football at the Academy. He was supreme commander of Allied naval forces during the Guadalcanal campaign of 1943 and retired as a vice admiral in 1946. Philadelphia’s William Burton Piersol was injured while playing football at the Academy and resigned immediately following graduation. He then got a job designing propellers for various marine firms and served as a commander during World War II. Riley Franklin McConnell of Gate City,
Virginia was the heaviest man in his class at the Academy. His sports included football, track, and what the school yearbook, the Lucky Bag, called "jui jitsu." He retired as a commander in 1924. Finally, Schuyler Franklin Heim of Plymouth, Indiana was the Academy lightweight wrestling champion. Lucky Bag 1907 said that Heim looked "like a Jap, and can beat all
comers at the art of Judo, which he asserts is more refined than Jiu Jitsi [sic], because it is sure death." He retired as a commodore in 1946, and is commemorated by the Terminal Island Bridge in Long Island, California that carries his name.
EN9. The Department of the Navy’s subsequent interest in judo dates to February 1943, and a contest in which a 143-pound judoka choked a 200-pound professional wrestler unconscious in 1 minute, 20 seconds. For a description of that contest, see Joseph R. Svinth, "Judo Battles Wrestling: Masato Tamura and Karl Pojello," Furyu, The Budo Journal, 3:2 (Summer/Autumn 1999), 30-36, 72.
JCS
Oct 2000
Oct 2000
樸
樸 (radical 75 木+12, 16 strokes, cangjie input 木廿金人 (DTCO), four-corner 42934)
simple, honest
plain
rough
On: ぼく (boku), はく (haku), ほく (hoku)
Kun: きじ (kiji), あらき (araki), すなお (sunao)
The Three Treasures or Three Jewels (Chinese: 三寶; pinyin: sānbǎo; Wade–Giles: san-pao) are basic virtues in Taoism. Although the Tao Te Ching originally used sanbao to mean "compassion", "frugality", and "humility", the term was later used to translate the Three Jewels (Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha) in Chinese Buddhism, and to mean the Three Treasures (jing, qi, and shen) in Traditional Chinese Medicine.
Sanbao "three treasures" first occurs in Tao Te Ching chapter 67, which Lin Yutang (1948:292) says contains Laozi's "most beautiful teachings":
The first of the Three Treasures is ci (Chinese: 慈; pinyin: cí; Wade–Giles: tz'u; literally "compassion, tenderness, love, mercy, kindness, gentleness, benevolence"), which is also a Classical Chinese term for "mother" (with "tender love, nurturing " semantic associations). Tao Te Ching chapters 18 and 19 parallel ci ("parental love") with xiao (孝 "filial love; filial piety"). Wing-tsit Chan (1963:219) believes "the first is the most important" of the Three Treasures, and compares ci with Confucianist ren (仁 "humaneness; benevolence"), which the Tao Te Ching (e.g., chapters 5 and 38) mocks.
The second is jian (Chinese: 儉; pinyin: jiǎn; Wade–Giles: chien; literally "frugality, moderation, economy, restraint, be sparing"), a practice that the Tao Te Ching (e.g., chapter 59) praises. Ellen M. Chen (1989:209) believes jian is "organically connected" with the Taoist metaphor pu (樸 "uncarved wood; simplicity"), and "stands for the economy of nature that does not waste anything. When applied to the moral life it stands for the simplicity of desire."
The third treasure is a six-character phrase instead of a single word: Bugan wei tianxia xian 不敢為天下先 "not dare to be first/ahead in the world". Chen notes that
simple, honest
plain
rough
On: ぼく (boku), はく (haku), ほく (hoku)
Kun: きじ (kiji), あらき (araki), すなお (sunao)
The Three Treasures or Three Jewels (Chinese: 三寶; pinyin: sānbǎo; Wade–Giles: san-pao) are basic virtues in Taoism. Although the Tao Te Ching originally used sanbao to mean "compassion", "frugality", and "humility", the term was later used to translate the Three Jewels (Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha) in Chinese Buddhism, and to mean the Three Treasures (jing, qi, and shen) in Traditional Chinese Medicine.
Sanbao "three treasures" first occurs in Tao Te Ching chapter 67, which Lin Yutang (1948:292) says contains Laozi's "most beautiful teachings":
天下皆谓我道大，似不肖。夫唯大，故似不肖。若肖，久矣其细也夫！
我有三宝，持而保之。一曰慈，二曰俭，三曰不敢为天下先。
慈故能勇；俭故能广；不敢为天下先，故能成器长。
今舍慈且勇；舍俭且广；舍后且先；死矣！
夫慈以战则胜，以守则固。天将救之，以慈卫之。
Every one under heaven says that our Way is greatly like folly. But it is just because it is great, that it seems like folly. As for things that do not seem like folly — well, there can be no question about their smallness!Arthur Waley describes these Three Treasures as, "The three rules that formed the practical, political side of the author's teaching (1) abstention from aggressive war and capital punishment, (2) absolute simplicity of living, (3) refusal to assert active authority."
Here are my three treasures. Guard and keep them! The first is pity; the second, frugality; the third, refusal to be 'foremost of all things under heaven'.
For only he that pities is truly able to be brave;
Only he that is frugal is able to be profuse.
Only he that refuses to be foremost of all things
Is truly able to become chief of all Ministers.
At present your bravery is not based on pity, nor your profusion on frugality, nor your vanguard on your rear; and this is death. But pity cannot fight without conquering or guard without saving. Heaven arms with pity those whom it would not see destroyed. (tr. Waley 1958:225)
The first of the Three Treasures is ci (Chinese: 慈; pinyin: cí; Wade–Giles: tz'u; literally "compassion, tenderness, love, mercy, kindness, gentleness, benevolence"), which is also a Classical Chinese term for "mother" (with "tender love, nurturing " semantic associations). Tao Te Ching chapters 18 and 19 parallel ci ("parental love") with xiao (孝 "filial love; filial piety"). Wing-tsit Chan (1963:219) believes "the first is the most important" of the Three Treasures, and compares ci with Confucianist ren (仁 "humaneness; benevolence"), which the Tao Te Ching (e.g., chapters 5 and 38) mocks.
The second is jian (Chinese: 儉; pinyin: jiǎn; Wade–Giles: chien; literally "frugality, moderation, economy, restraint, be sparing"), a practice that the Tao Te Ching (e.g., chapter 59) praises. Ellen M. Chen (1989:209) believes jian is "organically connected" with the Taoist metaphor pu (樸 "uncarved wood; simplicity"), and "stands for the economy of nature that does not waste anything. When applied to the moral life it stands for the simplicity of desire."
The third treasure is a six-character phrase instead of a single word: Bugan wei tianxia xian 不敢為天下先 "not dare to be first/ahead in the world". Chen notes that
The third treasure, daring not be at the world's front, is the Taoist way to avoid premature death. To be at the world's front is to expose oneself, to render oneself vulnerable to the world's destructive forces, while to remain behind and to be humble is to allow oneself time to fully ripen and bear fruit. This is a treasure whose secret spring is the fear of losing one's life before one's time. This fear of death, out of a love for life, is indeed the key to Taoist wisdom. (1989:209)In the Mawangdui Silk Texts version of the Tao Te Ching, this traditional "Three Treasures" chapter 67 is chapter 32, following the traditional last chapter (81, 31). Based upon this early silk manuscript, Robert G. Henricks (1989:160) concludes that "Chapters 67, 68, and 69 should be read together as a unit." Besides some graphic variants and phonetic loan characters, like ci (兹 "mat, this") for ci (慈 "compassion, love", clarified with the "heart radical" 心), the most significant difference with the received text is the addition of heng (恆, "constantly, always") with "I constantly have three …" (我恆有三) instead of "I have three …" (我有三).
道德經
The Tao Te Ching, Daodejing, or Dao De Jing (道德經: 道 dào "way"; 德 dé "virtue"; 經 jīng "classic" or "book") also simply referred to as the Laozi, is a Chinese classic text. According to tradition, it was written around the 6th century BC by the sage Laozi (or Lao Tzu, "Old Master"), a record-keeper at the Zhou Dynasty court, by whose name the text is known in China. The text's true authorship and date of composition or compilation are still debated, although the oldest excavated text dates back to the late 4th century BC.
The text is fundamental to both philosophical and religious Taoism (Daojia, Chinese: 道家, Pinyin: Dàojiā; Daojiao, Chinese: 道教, Pinyin: Dàojiào) and strongly influenced other schools, such as Legalism, Confucianism and Chinese Buddhism, which when first introduced into China was largely interpreted through the use of Daoist words and concepts. Many Chinese artists, including poets, painters, calligraphers, and even gardeners have used the Daodejing as a source of inspiration. Its influence has also spread widely outside East Asia, and is amongst the most translated works in world literature.
The Wade–Giles romanization "Tao Te Ching" dates back to early English transliterations in the late 19th century; its influence can be seen in words and phrases that have become well-established in English. "Daodejing" is the pinyin romanization.
The text is fundamental to both philosophical and religious Taoism (Daojia, Chinese: 道家, Pinyin: Dàojiā; Daojiao, Chinese: 道教, Pinyin: Dàojiào) and strongly influenced other schools, such as Legalism, Confucianism and Chinese Buddhism, which when first introduced into China was largely interpreted through the use of Daoist words and concepts. Many Chinese artists, including poets, painters, calligraphers, and even gardeners have used the Daodejing as a source of inspiration. Its influence has also spread widely outside East Asia, and is amongst the most translated works in world literature.
The Wade–Giles romanization "Tao Te Ching" dates back to early English transliterations in the late 19th century; its influence can be seen in words and phrases that have become well-established in English. "Daodejing" is the pinyin romanization.
Sentient beings
Sentient beings is a technical term in Buddhist discourse. Broadly speaking, it denotes beings with consciousness or sentience or, in some contexts, life itself.[1] Specifically, it denotes the presence of the five aggregates, or skandhas.[2] While distinctions in usage and potential subdivisions or classes of sentient beings vary from one school, teacher, or thinker to another—and there is debate within some Buddhist schools as to what exactly constitutes sentience and how it is to be recognized[citation needed]—it principally refers to beings in contrast with buddhahood. That is, sentient beings are characteristicallynot enlightened, and are thus confined to the death, rebirth, and suffering characteristic of Saṃsāra.[3] However,Mahayana Buddhism simultaneously teaches (in the Tathagatagarbha doctrine particularly) that sentient beings also contain Buddha-nature—the intrinsic potential to transcend the conditions of samsara and attain enlightenment, thereby becoming a Buddha. [4]
In Mahayana Buddhism, it is to sentient beings that the Bodhisattva vow of compassion is pledged. Furthermore, and particularly in Tibetan Buddhism and Japanese Buddhism, all beings (including plant life and even inanimate objects or entities considered "spiritual" or "metaphysical" by conventional Western thought) are or may be considered sentient beings.[5][6]
The Chinese Scholar T'ien-T'ai (538–597) taught that plants, and other insentient objects could attain Buddhahood. This is because of the principle of Ichinen Sanzen (Eng. 3,000 Realms in a Single Thought Moment).[7]
In Mahayana Buddhism, it is to sentient beings that the Bodhisattva vow of compassion is pledged. Furthermore, and particularly in Tibetan Buddhism and Japanese Buddhism, all beings (including plant life and even inanimate objects or entities considered "spiritual" or "metaphysical" by conventional Western thought) are or may be considered sentient beings.[5][6]
The Chinese Scholar T'ien-T'ai (538–597) taught that plants, and other insentient objects could attain Buddhahood. This is because of the principle of Ichinen Sanzen (Eng. 3,000 Realms in a Single Thought Moment).[7]
viernes, 28 de diciembre de 2012
自然
自然 (な-na declension, hiragana しぜん, romaji shizen)
natural
spontaneous
ziran, ( Chinese: “spontaneity,” or “naturalness”; literally, “self-so-ing,” or “so of itself”) Wade-Giles romanization tzu-jan , in Chinese philosophy, and particularly among the 4th- and 3rd-century bce philosophers of early Daoism (daojia), the natural state of the constantly unfolding universe and of all things within it when both are allowed to develop in accord with the Cosmic Way (Dao).
Chinese cosmologies present a vision of a dynamic universe that is incessantly being generated. While the course it will take cannot be fully anticipated, it emerges and operates according to a continuous process. Human beings, however, impose their own order on reality, differentiating it by creating language and names for individual things, by developing rituals that order human life, and by creating government, which channels the energy of the people toward particular ends. Such actions distance people from the generative process of which they are a part. Instead, humans should attune themselves to the constant transformations of the Way. They may accomplish this by cultivating an openness toward spontaneity (ziran), which characterizes not only the constantly unfolding universe but the Dao itself. See also wuwei.
Matt Stefon
(Note: Chinese Buddhism, which when first introduced into China, was largely interpreted through the use of Taoist words and concepts.)
In contrast to the Confucian program of social reform through moral principle, ritual, and government regulation, the true way of restoration for the Taoists consisted in the banishment of learned sageliness and the discarding of wisdom. "Manifest the simple," urged Lao-tzu, "embrace the primitive, reduce selfishness, have few desires."
As the Tao operates impartially in the universe, so should mankind disavow assertive, purposive action. The Taoist life is not, however, a life of total inactivity. It is rather a life of nonpurposive action (wu-wei). Stated positively, it is a life expressing the essence of spontaneity (tzu-jan, "self-so").
It's when we allow ourselves not to over think or over analyze a given situation that we can come to know it via tzu-jan and wu wei. These are the time when, like an athlete or an artist, we find ourselves in the zone. We simply react or create without consciously thinking about it. We flow with the situation and do what only is necessary to accomplish the task without any excessive movement or wasted breath.
natural
spontaneous
ziran, ( Chinese: “spontaneity,” or “naturalness”; literally, “self-so-ing,” or “so of itself”) Wade-Giles romanization tzu-jan , in Chinese philosophy, and particularly among the 4th- and 3rd-century bce philosophers of early Daoism (daojia), the natural state of the constantly unfolding universe and of all things within it when both are allowed to develop in accord with the Cosmic Way (Dao).
Chinese cosmologies present a vision of a dynamic universe that is incessantly being generated. While the course it will take cannot be fully anticipated, it emerges and operates according to a continuous process. Human beings, however, impose their own order on reality, differentiating it by creating language and names for individual things, by developing rituals that order human life, and by creating government, which channels the energy of the people toward particular ends. Such actions distance people from the generative process of which they are a part. Instead, humans should attune themselves to the constant transformations of the Way. They may accomplish this by cultivating an openness toward spontaneity (ziran), which characterizes not only the constantly unfolding universe but the Dao itself. See also wuwei.
Matt Stefon
(Note: Chinese Buddhism, which when first introduced into China, was largely interpreted through the use of Taoist words and concepts.)
In contrast to the Confucian program of social reform through moral principle, ritual, and government regulation, the true way of restoration for the Taoists consisted in the banishment of learned sageliness and the discarding of wisdom. "Manifest the simple," urged Lao-tzu, "embrace the primitive, reduce selfishness, have few desires."
As the Tao operates impartially in the universe, so should mankind disavow assertive, purposive action. The Taoist life is not, however, a life of total inactivity. It is rather a life of nonpurposive action (wu-wei). Stated positively, it is a life expressing the essence of spontaneity (tzu-jan, "self-so").
There is always something we don't know. This is well illustrated by the elusive qualities of energy in physics: We cannot really define energy, but we can work with it, and this is the case with the Tao. The Tao works by itself. Its nature is to be, as is said in Chinese, tzu-jan, that which is "of itself," "by itself," or "itself so." Tzu-jan is almost what we mean when we say that something is automatic, or that something happens automatically.When the concept of tzu-jan is combined with the concept of wu wei, what we end up with is going with the flow by and of itself. That, in a manner of speaking, goes hand in hand with today's verse from the TTC.
~ Alan Watts in What is Tao? ~
It's when we allow ourselves not to over think or over analyze a given situation that we can come to know it via tzu-jan and wu wei. These are the time when, like an athlete or an artist, we find ourselves in the zone. We simply react or create without consciously thinking about it. We flow with the situation and do what only is necessary to accomplish the task without any excessive movement or wasted breath.
爲無爲
Action and inaction; active and passive; dynamic and static; things and phenomena in general are 有爲; nirvāṇa quiescence, the void, etc., are 無爲.
Wu wei(Chinese 無爲 ; a variant and derivatives: traditional Chinese 無為 simplified Chinese 无为 pinyin wú wéi Japanese 無為 Korean 무위 ; Vietnamese Vô vi English , lit. non-doing ) is an important concept in Taoism that literally means non-action or non-doing. In the Tao te Ching Laozi explains that beings (or phenomena) that are wholly in harmony with the Tao behave in a completely natural, uncontrived way. As the planets revolve around the sun, they "do" this revolving, but without "doing" it. As trees grow, they simply grow without trying to grow. Thus knowing how and when to act is not knowledge in the sense that one would think, "now I should do this," but rather just doing it, doing the natural thing. The goal of spiritual practice for the human being is, according to Laozi, the attainment of this natural way of behaving.
Wu may be translated as not have or without; Wei may be translated as do, act, serve as, govern or effort. The literal meaning of wu wei is "without action", "without effort", or "without control", and is often included in the paradox wei wu wei: "action without action" or "effortless doing". The practice of wu wei and the efficacy of wei wu wei are fundamental tenets in Chinese thought and have been mostly emphasized by the Taoist school. One cannot actively pursue wu wei. It is more a mere observation of one's behavior after they have accepted themselves for who they are and release conscious control over their lives to the infinite Tao.
There is another less commonly referenced sense of wu wei; "action that does not involve struggle or excessive effort". In this instance, wu means "without" and Wei means "effort". The concept of "effortless action" is a part of Taoist Internal martial arts such as T'ai chi ch'uan, Baguazhang and Xing Yi. It follows that wu wei complies with the main feature and distinguishing characteristic of Taoism, that of being natural. To apply wu wei to any situation is to take natural action.
In Zen Calligraphy, wu wei has been represented as a circle. In China, the Wu Wei Characters themselves resonate with old Taoist stories.
The Tao te Ching besides being a metaphysical treatise on first principles, is a practical treatise on government addressed to prospective rulers and governors. In the traditional (partly Confucian) Chinese understanding of governance, a prince has only to sit at the right place, facing south, with a prince's traditional attributes, and his country will be well governed. In Lun Yu II.1., Confucius compares a virtuous prince to the North Pole in which he finds himself: he does not move and everything turns around him.
In the original Taoist texts, wu wei is often associated with water and its yielding nature. Although water is soft and weak, it has the capacity to erode even solid stone (for example, the Grand Canyon) and move mountains (for example, landslides). Water is without will (that is, the will for a shape), though it may be understood to be opposing wood, stone, or any solid aggregated material that can be broken into pieces. Due to its nature and propensity, water may potentially fill any container, assume any shape; given the Water cycle water may potentially go "anywhere", even into the minutest holes, both metaphorical and actual. Droplets of water, when falling as rain, gather in watersheds, flowing into and forming rivers of water, joining the proverbial sea: this is the nature of water.
Several chapters of the most important Taoist text, the Tao Te Ching, attributed to Laozi, allude to "diminishing doing" or "diminishing will" as the key aspect of the sage's success. Taoist philosophy recognizes that the Universe already works harmoniously according to its own ways; as a person exerts their will against or upon the world they disrupt the harmony that already exists. This is not to say that a person should not exert agency and will. Rather, it is how one acts in relation to the natural processes already extant. The how, the Tao of intention and motivation,that is key.
Related translation from the Tao Tê Ching by Priya Hemenway, Chapter II:
Wu Wei has also been translated as "creative quietude," or the art of letting-be. This does not mean a dulling of the mind; rather, it is an activity undertaken to be the Tao within all things and to cultivate oneself to its "way."
Laozi's writings manifest wu wei when advising on how a ruler should govern their kingdom: Ruling a big country is like cooking a small fish (治大国，若烹小鲜[1]). When you're frying a small fish, too much poking will ruin the meal, so the meaning is: create general policies and direction, but do not micromanage. To do this well, you must understand the ways of your people and not go against the grain.
Wu wei(Chinese 無爲 ; a variant and derivatives: traditional Chinese 無為 simplified Chinese 无为 pinyin wú wéi Japanese 無為 Korean 무위 ; Vietnamese Vô vi English , lit. non-doing ) is an important concept in Taoism that literally means non-action or non-doing. In the Tao te Ching Laozi explains that beings (or phenomena) that are wholly in harmony with the Tao behave in a completely natural, uncontrived way. As the planets revolve around the sun, they "do" this revolving, but without "doing" it. As trees grow, they simply grow without trying to grow. Thus knowing how and when to act is not knowledge in the sense that one would think, "now I should do this," but rather just doing it, doing the natural thing. The goal of spiritual practice for the human being is, according to Laozi, the attainment of this natural way of behaving.
Wu may be translated as not have or without; Wei may be translated as do, act, serve as, govern or effort. The literal meaning of wu wei is "without action", "without effort", or "without control", and is often included in the paradox wei wu wei: "action without action" or "effortless doing". The practice of wu wei and the efficacy of wei wu wei are fundamental tenets in Chinese thought and have been mostly emphasized by the Taoist school. One cannot actively pursue wu wei. It is more a mere observation of one's behavior after they have accepted themselves for who they are and release conscious control over their lives to the infinite Tao.
There is another less commonly referenced sense of wu wei; "action that does not involve struggle or excessive effort". In this instance, wu means "without" and Wei means "effort". The concept of "effortless action" is a part of Taoist Internal martial arts such as T'ai chi ch'uan, Baguazhang and Xing Yi. It follows that wu wei complies with the main feature and distinguishing characteristic of Taoism, that of being natural. To apply wu wei to any situation is to take natural action.
In Zen Calligraphy, wu wei has been represented as a circle. In China, the Wu Wei Characters themselves resonate with old Taoist stories.
The Tao te Ching besides being a metaphysical treatise on first principles, is a practical treatise on government addressed to prospective rulers and governors. In the traditional (partly Confucian) Chinese understanding of governance, a prince has only to sit at the right place, facing south, with a prince's traditional attributes, and his country will be well governed. In Lun Yu II.1., Confucius compares a virtuous prince to the North Pole in which he finds himself: he does not move and everything turns around him.
In the original Taoist texts, wu wei is often associated with water and its yielding nature. Although water is soft and weak, it has the capacity to erode even solid stone (for example, the Grand Canyon) and move mountains (for example, landslides). Water is without will (that is, the will for a shape), though it may be understood to be opposing wood, stone, or any solid aggregated material that can be broken into pieces. Due to its nature and propensity, water may potentially fill any container, assume any shape; given the Water cycle water may potentially go "anywhere", even into the minutest holes, both metaphorical and actual. Droplets of water, when falling as rain, gather in watersheds, flowing into and forming rivers of water, joining the proverbial sea: this is the nature of water.
Several chapters of the most important Taoist text, the Tao Te Ching, attributed to Laozi, allude to "diminishing doing" or "diminishing will" as the key aspect of the sage's success. Taoist philosophy recognizes that the Universe already works harmoniously according to its own ways; as a person exerts their will against or upon the world they disrupt the harmony that already exists. This is not to say that a person should not exert agency and will. Rather, it is how one acts in relation to the natural processes already extant. The how, the Tao of intention and motivation,that is key.
Related translation from the Tao Tê Ching by Priya Hemenway, Chapter II:
- The Sage is occupied with the unspoken
- and acts without effort.
- Teaching without verbosity,
- producing without possessing,
- creating without regard to result,
- claiming nothing,
- the Sage has nothing to lose.
Wu Wei has also been translated as "creative quietude," or the art of letting-be. This does not mean a dulling of the mind; rather, it is an activity undertaken to be the Tao within all things and to cultivate oneself to its "way."
Laozi's writings manifest wu wei when advising on how a ruler should govern their kingdom: Ruling a big country is like cooking a small fish (治大国，若烹小鲜[1]). When you're frying a small fish, too much poking will ruin the meal, so the meaning is: create general policies and direction, but do not micromanage. To do this well, you must understand the ways of your people and not go against the grain.
The concept of wu wei is often described as performing a selfless act but this merely exposes the background of the writer. Other religions have selfless acts and “doing good” as part of their belief systems. In Taoist teaching, however, “good” is unknowable. A selfless act can only be performed by someone in an egoless state. Every act performed by someone in the usual way of things has some kind of reward attached whether it is financial, power, love, status or just feeling good about oneself. All these things are ego re-inforcing. To perform a selfless act one must let go of one's ego and pass into an enlightened state of consciousness. This is called wu wei – the state of doing without doing. Here every act is selfless for the ego has ceased to exist. There is no I making decisions and the outcome is always perfect.
In neijia, one of the aims is to be able to fight in this state. There is no ego wishing to aggrandise itself by punishing the opponent and every move is performed effortlessly before one has time to think. One blocks every move by one's opponents yet for all parties involved you might be playing with clouds (it's painless and without harmful consequence).
As one diminishes doing—here 'doing' means those intentional actions taken to benefit us or actions taken to change the world from its natural state and evolution—one diminishes all those actions committed against the Tao, the already present natural harmony. As such one begins to cultivate Tao, one also becomes more in harmony with Tao; and, according to another great ancient Taoist philosopher Zhuangzi, attains a state of Ming, or 'clear seeing'. It is in the state of Ming that the Taoist is in full harmony with Tao, and 'having arrived at this pointless point of non-action, there is nothing that is left undone.' It is upon achievement of this Chinese equivalent to 'enlightenment' that a sage begins to perform wei wu wei, or 'action without action.' Thus the sage will be able to work in harmony with Tao to accomplish what is needed, and, working in perfect harmony with the Tao, leave no trace of having done it.
An example of active non-action using wu wei, would be to teach in such a way that no course of action is dictated to a student (they are just told raw facts for use, and left to their own creative devices), so they assume that they have been taught nothing, that is, until their learnings have been integrated in their lived experience.
The essential message of Taoism is that life constitutes an organic, interconnected whole which undergoes constant transformation.
This unceasing flow of change manifests itself as a natural order governed by unalterable, yet perceivable laws. Paradoxically, it is the constancy of these governing principles (like the rising and setting of the sun and moon and the changing of the seasons) that allows people to recognize and utilize them in their own process of transformation. Gaining an awareness of life's essential unity and learning to cooperate with its natural flow and order enables people to attain a state of being that is both fully free and independent and at the same time fully connected to the life flow of the Universe - being at one with the Tao. From the Taoist viewpoint this represents the ultimate stage of human existence.
The writings of the legendary Taoist sages, Lao Tzu and Chuang Tzu, furnish us with specific principles as a guide to attaining this state of oneness. Through understanding these principles and applying them to daily living we may consciously become a part of life's flow.
These sage's beliefs are becoming increasingly popular outside of the Asian culture. Many of the Western world's independent institutions, as well as public universities and accredited online colleges, now provide philosophical and religious tradition courses containing the wisdom of these mentors.
A key principle in realizing our oneness with the Tao is that of wu-wei, or "non-doing." Wu-wei refers to behavior that arises from a sense of oneself as connected to others and to one's environment. It is not motivated by a sense of separateness. It is action that is spontaneous and effortless. At the same time it is not to be considered inertia, laziness, or mere passivity. Rather, it is the experience of going with the grain or swimming with the current. Our contemporary expression, "going with the flow," is a direct expression of this fundamental Taoist principle, which in its most basic form refers to behavior occurring in response to the flow of the Tao.
The principle of wu-wei contains certain implications. Foremost among these is the need to consciously experience ourselves as part of the unity of life that is the Tao. Lao Tzu writes that we must be quiet and watchful, learning to listen to both our own inner voices and to the voices of our environment in a non-interfering, receptive manner. In this way we also learn to rely on more than just our intellect and logical mind to gather and assess information. We develop and trust our intuition as our direct connection to the Tao. We heed the intelligence of our whole body, not only our brain. And we learn through our own experience. All of this allows us to respond readily to the needs of the environment, which of course includes ourselves. And just as the Tao functions in a manner to promote harmony and balance, our own actions, performed in the spirit of wu-wei, produce the same result.
Wu-wei also implies action that is spontaneous, natural, and effortless. As with the Tao, this behavior simply flows through us because it is the right action, appropriate to its time and place, and serving the purpose of greater harmony and balance. Chuang Tzu refers to this type of being in the world as flowing, or more poetically (and provocatively), as "purposeless wandering!" How opposite this concept is to some of our most cherished cultural values. To have no purpose is unthinkable and even frightening, certainly anti-social and perhaps pathological in the context of modern day living. And yet it would be difficult to maintain that our current values have promoted harmony and balance, either environmentally or on an individual level.
To allow oneself to "wander without purpose" can be frightening because it challenges some of our most basic assumptions about life, about who we are as humans, and about our role in the world. From a Taoist point of view it is our cherished beliefs - that we exist as separate beings, that we can exercise willful control over all situations, and that our role is to conquer our environment - that lead to a state of disharmony and imbalance. Yet, "the Tao nourishes everything," Lao Tzu writes. If we can learn to follow the Tao, practicing non-action," then nothing remains undone. This means trusting our own bodies, our thoughts and emotions, and also believing that the environment will provide support and guidance. Thus the need to develop watchfulness and quietness of mind.
In cultivating wu-wei, timing becomes an important aspect of our behavior. We learn to perceive processes in their earliest stages and thus are able to take timely action. "Deal with the small before it becomes large," is a well-known dictum from Lao Tzu.
And finally, in the words of Chuang Tzu, we learn "detachment, forgetfulness of results, and abandonment of all hope of profit." By allowing the Tao to work through us, we render our actions truly spontaneous, natural, and effortless. We thus flow with all experiences and feelings as they come and go. We know intuitively that actions which are not ego-motivated, but in response to the needs of the environment, lead toward harmonious balance and give ultimate meaning and "purpose" to our lives. Such actions are attuned to the deepest flow of life itself.
To allow wu-wei to manifest in our lives may seem like a daunting task. And yet, if we pause to reflect on our past experiences, we will recall possibly many instances when our actions were spontaneous and natural, when they arose out of the needs of the moment without thought of profit or tangible result. "The work is done and then forgotten. And so it lasts forever," writes Lao Tzu.
Part one in our five part series: Taoism – Ageless Wisdom for a Modern World
Part two: Taoism – Ageless Wisdom for a Modern World: Te – The Principle of Inner Nature
Part three: Taoism – Ageless Wisdom for a Modern World: Yin-Yang – The Principle of Harmony and Change
In neijia, one of the aims is to be able to fight in this state. There is no ego wishing to aggrandise itself by punishing the opponent and every move is performed effortlessly before one has time to think. One blocks every move by one's opponents yet for all parties involved you might be playing with clouds (it's painless and without harmful consequence).
As one diminishes doing—here 'doing' means those intentional actions taken to benefit us or actions taken to change the world from its natural state and evolution—one diminishes all those actions committed against the Tao, the already present natural harmony. As such one begins to cultivate Tao, one also becomes more in harmony with Tao; and, according to another great ancient Taoist philosopher Zhuangzi, attains a state of Ming, or 'clear seeing'. It is in the state of Ming that the Taoist is in full harmony with Tao, and 'having arrived at this pointless point of non-action, there is nothing that is left undone.' It is upon achievement of this Chinese equivalent to 'enlightenment' that a sage begins to perform wei wu wei, or 'action without action.' Thus the sage will be able to work in harmony with Tao to accomplish what is needed, and, working in perfect harmony with the Tao, leave no trace of having done it.
An example of active non-action using wu wei, would be to teach in such a way that no course of action is dictated to a student (they are just told raw facts for use, and left to their own creative devices), so they assume that they have been taught nothing, that is, until their learnings have been integrated in their lived experience.
The essential message of Taoism is that life constitutes an organic, interconnected whole which undergoes constant transformation.
This unceasing flow of change manifests itself as a natural order governed by unalterable, yet perceivable laws. Paradoxically, it is the constancy of these governing principles (like the rising and setting of the sun and moon and the changing of the seasons) that allows people to recognize and utilize them in their own process of transformation. Gaining an awareness of life's essential unity and learning to cooperate with its natural flow and order enables people to attain a state of being that is both fully free and independent and at the same time fully connected to the life flow of the Universe - being at one with the Tao. From the Taoist viewpoint this represents the ultimate stage of human existence.
The writings of the legendary Taoist sages, Lao Tzu and Chuang Tzu, furnish us with specific principles as a guide to attaining this state of oneness. Through understanding these principles and applying them to daily living we may consciously become a part of life's flow.
These sage's beliefs are becoming increasingly popular outside of the Asian culture. Many of the Western world's independent institutions, as well as public universities and accredited online colleges, now provide philosophical and religious tradition courses containing the wisdom of these mentors.
A key principle in realizing our oneness with the Tao is that of wu-wei, or "non-doing." Wu-wei refers to behavior that arises from a sense of oneself as connected to others and to one's environment. It is not motivated by a sense of separateness. It is action that is spontaneous and effortless. At the same time it is not to be considered inertia, laziness, or mere passivity. Rather, it is the experience of going with the grain or swimming with the current. Our contemporary expression, "going with the flow," is a direct expression of this fundamental Taoist principle, which in its most basic form refers to behavior occurring in response to the flow of the Tao.
The principle of wu-wei contains certain implications. Foremost among these is the need to consciously experience ourselves as part of the unity of life that is the Tao. Lao Tzu writes that we must be quiet and watchful, learning to listen to both our own inner voices and to the voices of our environment in a non-interfering, receptive manner. In this way we also learn to rely on more than just our intellect and logical mind to gather and assess information. We develop and trust our intuition as our direct connection to the Tao. We heed the intelligence of our whole body, not only our brain. And we learn through our own experience. All of this allows us to respond readily to the needs of the environment, which of course includes ourselves. And just as the Tao functions in a manner to promote harmony and balance, our own actions, performed in the spirit of wu-wei, produce the same result.
Wu-wei also implies action that is spontaneous, natural, and effortless. As with the Tao, this behavior simply flows through us because it is the right action, appropriate to its time and place, and serving the purpose of greater harmony and balance. Chuang Tzu refers to this type of being in the world as flowing, or more poetically (and provocatively), as "purposeless wandering!" How opposite this concept is to some of our most cherished cultural values. To have no purpose is unthinkable and even frightening, certainly anti-social and perhaps pathological in the context of modern day living. And yet it would be difficult to maintain that our current values have promoted harmony and balance, either environmentally or on an individual level.
To allow oneself to "wander without purpose" can be frightening because it challenges some of our most basic assumptions about life, about who we are as humans, and about our role in the world. From a Taoist point of view it is our cherished beliefs - that we exist as separate beings, that we can exercise willful control over all situations, and that our role is to conquer our environment - that lead to a state of disharmony and imbalance. Yet, "the Tao nourishes everything," Lao Tzu writes. If we can learn to follow the Tao, practicing non-action," then nothing remains undone. This means trusting our own bodies, our thoughts and emotions, and also believing that the environment will provide support and guidance. Thus the need to develop watchfulness and quietness of mind.
In cultivating wu-wei, timing becomes an important aspect of our behavior. We learn to perceive processes in their earliest stages and thus are able to take timely action. "Deal with the small before it becomes large," is a well-known dictum from Lao Tzu.
And finally, in the words of Chuang Tzu, we learn "detachment, forgetfulness of results, and abandonment of all hope of profit." By allowing the Tao to work through us, we render our actions truly spontaneous, natural, and effortless. We thus flow with all experiences and feelings as they come and go. We know intuitively that actions which are not ego-motivated, but in response to the needs of the environment, lead toward harmonious balance and give ultimate meaning and "purpose" to our lives. Such actions are attuned to the deepest flow of life itself.
To allow wu-wei to manifest in our lives may seem like a daunting task. And yet, if we pause to reflect on our past experiences, we will recall possibly many instances when our actions were spontaneous and natural, when they arose out of the needs of the moment without thought of profit or tangible result. "The work is done and then forgotten. And so it lasts forever," writes Lao Tzu.
Part one in our five part series: Taoism – Ageless Wisdom for a Modern World
Part two: Taoism – Ageless Wisdom for a Modern World: Te – The Principle of Inner Nature
Part three: Taoism – Ageless Wisdom for a Modern World: Yin-Yang – The Principle of Harmony and Change
sábado, 8 de diciembre de 2012
vinyasa yoga flow sequence
A quick vinyasa yoga flow sequence designed by Alesha from GatherYoga to boost your energy in a quick full-body workout for when you hit the road.
viernes, 7 de diciembre de 2012
La respiración de fuego
-Breath of Fire con garras de león: Cambiar el campo electromagnético del cerebro-
La respiración de fuego añadido a la propuesta mejora el funcionamiento de la hipófisis y estimula la glándula pineal para aumentar el brillo y la frecuencia de proyección sutil del cerebro.
Siéntate en una postura fácil, con Jalandhar bandh.
Mudra: Mantén las dos manos en garras de león. Mantener la tensión en las manos durante el ejercicio. Extienda ambos brazos hacia los lados, paralelos al suelo con las palmas hacia arriba.
Respiración y Movimiento: Traiga ambos brazos sobre la cabeza para que las manos se cruzan sobre la corona de la cabeza. La curva de los codos y las palmas hacia abajo. A continuación, lleve las manos hacia abajo a medida que se extienden los brazos paralelos al suelo otra vez. Iniciar un movimiento rítmico de esta manera. Suplente muñeca que está delante cuando recorran por la otra en la cabeza. Crear un soplo de gran alcance con el movimiento de los brazos. El movimiento del brazo es muy rápido. La respiración es una inhalación como los brazos se extienden como una exhalación y los brazos cruza por la cabeza. La respiración se vuelve una constante aliento de fuego.
Hora: Continuar durante 9 minutos. Para finalizar: Sin romper el ritmo del ejercicio, sacar la lengua afuera y hacia abajo todo el camino. Continuar durante 15 segundos más. Luego inhala, llevar en la lengua y fijar los brazos a 60 grados, de manera que forman un arco alrededor de la cabeza con las palmas hacia abajo cerca de seis pulgadas de distancia en la cabeza. Las manos están todavía en garras de león. Sostenga la respiración por 15 segundos. Mantenga los brazos fijados al exhalar e inhalar completamente. A continuación, mantenga la respiración durante 30 segundos.
Relájese y deje que los brazos hacia abajo.
Medita en el Centro del Corazón. Siga el flujo suave de la respiración. Canta una canción inspiradora y edificante. Continúe durante 3-5 minutos. Comentarios: Este corto de un ejercicio kriya tiene un efecto poderoso e inmediato sobre el cerebro y su campo electromagnético. La presión en la posición de la mano provoca reflejos en las puntas de los dedos a cada área del cerebro. El movimiento de los brazos se mueve la linfa en el sistema linfático. También se presuriza el sistema nervioso para cambiar su estado actual. La respiración de fuego añadido a la propuesta mejora el funcionamiento de la hipófisis y estimula la glándula pineal para aumentar el brillo y la frecuencia de proyección sutil del cerebro.
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