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Friday, July 27, 2012

Due to household tribulations, there will be no post for this week.  Next week's post should be on Friday as usual.  Thank you.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Karate Essay

     (When I was in the White Tiger Black Belt Academy, I studied Shorniji Goju Karatedo under Hanshi James Perkins.  One of the requirements for a student testing for black belt was to write an essay on what the martial arts are, and how has the art helped him or her.
     I gave the matter a great deal of thought.  With this coming semester, I will be taking karate again as a college course, and so I have been thinking about it further.  Below is the very rough beginning of what would have been my Shodan essay had my dojo not closed down, left over from ages past.)


            Any tool can be used in ways other than its literal form – as it follows function – might suggest.

            A screwdriver, for example, is ultimately intended by its form and design for inserting screws, for the purpose of holding things together, or for removing screws for the purpose of giving them greater liberty.  However, it can still be used to hammer in nails, peel paint, or attempt injury against would-be assailants aboard New York subways.

            Likewise, fighting is a tool.  A fight is designed for one purpose: to end life.  If a person fights and continues fighting until there is no fight left, then it is because the fighter has run out of opponents.  By definition, that happens when death occurs.  Fighting is, if followed through without interruption, a means towards the elimination of life.

            However, fighting is a tool, and thus can be used for other purposes.  It is often used for communication, establishing social status, demonstration of skills, release of aggression, and so forth.  It can be used, even, for the preservation of life rather than the extinction of it.

            But in order to use a fight to defend life and freedom, rather than to destroy it, one must have both the awareness and the control to know both when and how to stop fighting in order to accomplish that goal.

            Awareness, especially awareness of self, lies at the core of self-control.  Self-control and awareness lie at the heart of self-mastery.  And self-mastery is the heart of martial arts. 

            Any brute can bash another brute’s brains out with a femur.  A good fighter can control himself in a fight such that he will not be injured.  One who has mastered the martial art can control himself and the fight itself such that even injuring another will be rare, and only when needed due to duress. 

            “Avoid, rather than check.  Check, rather than hurt.  Hurt, rather than maim.  Maim, rather than kill.  For all life is precious, nor can any be replaced.”  --Master Po, from the Pilot episode of Kung Fu.

            I always remember that quote ending with the phrase, “Kill, rather than be killed.”  But regardless: the martial art is a means by which a tool for destruction is ideally transformed into something beautiful, a tool for the preservation of life and those things which give it meaning.  A tool for self-expression, self-awareness, and self-mastery. 

It is in this way that it is truly an art, and it is in this way that the martial artist, so called, is indeed an artist.  For the martial artist becomes more of who he or she truly can be, and honestly expresses that illumination through motion, thought, and life.

(That's all I have on it for now.  When I test for my first black belt no doubt I will get to write more.  And you will likely be able to read it here.)

--Coyote

Friday, July 20, 2012

This week's Blogspot entry will be on Wednesday, with the following entry being on Friday as per semi-usual.

I don't think I'll do time any more, man.  It's too confining....

Friday, July 13, 2012

On Power

Some boast of their power, and in darkness rule as kings
Some boast of freedom even as they tighten bonds and chains
Some boast of glory with bloody hands, scars, and magic rings
Some boast of majesty from courts that flood with bloody reign

Speak to me of power when you fear neither night nor day
Speak to me of freedom when none are held within your thrall
Speak to me of glory when life and death are steeds, not beasts at bay
Speak to me of majesty when you defend them all




--Coyote

Thursday, July 5, 2012

A Letter From Wottsamotta U.

Along with the usual debt warnings, bills, and notices that utilities were rising in cost yet again, I received the following letter in the mail this afternoon.  After the time I had last semester, and the appeal I had to go through as well, I must say this was very well received:


Dear Coyote,


Congratulations are in order!  You have been named to the Dean's list honor roll at Wossamotta University for the Spring 2012 semester.


This is a great accomplishment.  Only 3 percent of our students are named to the Dean's List, one of the college's highest academic honors.  To receive this distinction, you must be enrolled in at least 12 hours and have earned a grade point average between 3.50 and 3.99.


We at Wossamotta University are proud of you.


Sincerely,



Raoul T.Duke



Raoul T. Duke
President





Some days it actually does pay to check the mail.
--Coyote

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Alligator

(I originally wrote this with the idea in mind to make it an illustrated children's book.  In the meantime, here it is with borrowed art.)

It was at exactly three in the morning that I returned home to find that my couch had become an alligator.


My daughter ignored the matter entirely.  She went upstairs to her bed without a backwards glance.  In fact, she barely even said goodnight.

At the time, I took it to be a sign of her age.  She is, after all, only sixteen.

But over the next few days, I realized that it wasn’t just her.  Everyone in the house was pretending that it had never happened.  That there was not, in fact, an alligator in the living room.


Everyone but me.


Just the same, there was a distinct period of adjustment.

For example, we all know what cats do to furniture.


I spent hours posting “PETS LOST” pamphlets all over the neighborhood.  And the whole time I did, the rest of my family stayed at home, completely mystified.  Drinking their colas and wondering aloud, “How on Earth could all our pussy cats have ever have gotten out of the house?”

Of course, I knew what had really happened.


And I remembered, just as I am sure the alligator did, just how the cats used to treat that couch.  So I guess they kind of had it coming.

But still.

And then there was the night that my wife and I had our big argument.

Have you ever tried to get a good night’s sleep on an alligator?


It’s impossible.

But, having an alligator in the house does seem to keep all the elephants away.  And you’ll never know what a relief that is.

 --Coyote




(The Scream was painted by Edvard Munch a long time ago; riding the alligator picture courtesy of blog.scienceinsociety.northwestern.edu; Groucho Marx's image was property of MGM a long time ago and might still be; the scratching cat image is courtesy of sfspcacat.blogspot.com; cat vs alligator picture courtesy of forum.santabanta.com; sleepless picture courtesy of waterysoul.blogspot.com; elephant tea party image courtesy of leveeblog.com.  In no way is the use of any of this art intended to infringe upon the rights of their original creators of copyright holders.  All rights reserved.)