Defining
Budō: a path of
self-development
Budō
is a philosophy of practice centered around martial arts, but with
principles meant to extend into all aspects of one's life1.
I have been fortunate to grow up around many discussions of Budō
practice, which have helped me to recognize the pragmatic
relationship between attention, emotional control, and
self-acceptance-- as it relates to personal learning and development in
general. As a student of aikido, as well as the art of teaching (currently working on my
PhD in Education), I find my Budō
study extended by classroom teaching experiences, and my teaching approach
likewise guided by that 20-year martial experience of the
body-mind-spirit as a unified center of learning.
Being “alive”—growing,
feeling, responding, desiring, adjusting, and learning—is a state
naturally filled with discomforts, changes, and imposed conditions.
Individuals often obsess over these challenges, making them into fuel
for suffering: they focus on that mental/physical discomfort, that
impermanence of phenomena, those objects and events that make certain
things happen or prevent other things from happening (my sensei
refers to this approach as “victim mode”). But they may
alternately observe these challenges as tools for study: approaching
every difficult, unexpected, or non-ideal experience as a sensation
to be present in, a change to acknowledge and adapt to, or a
situation to accept and respond to (my sensei calls this approach
“solution mode”). Whether facing an intellectual challenge or a life-and-death challenge, this latter mode of relating with the world supports growth, health, and positive learning (as opposed to stiffness, numbness, or avoidance).
Foundation-work:
concentration practice and awareness-building
The first step toward a
solution-orientation—toward realizing one's capacity for dealing
with life's difficulties—is exercising awareness. Awareness, my sensei explains, is
a byproduct of concentration (i.e., focused attention): for example,
by focusing on the punching hand, one may develop a strong punch, but
then notice that they have been neglecting their hikite (the
hand that pulls back to bolster the punching hand). And as one brings
attention to making a stronger hikite, their punching hand remains in
their awareness – and so on as they move to lower their raised
heel, or draw back their too-high chin – each time bringing a new
area into their awareness.
Budō
practices within Aikido, such as Jiyu/Chikara Randori
(responding to unplanned attacks with situationally appropriate
defenses3)
and meditation (mindfulness training), tacitly demonstrate to the
practitioner that awareness
is a present-moment state of consciousness—not only of one's
rational sense-making thoughts about the external world, but also of
one's motivations and emotions, which underlie those
internally-constructed stories.
For
instance, within a typical meditation session, individuals (1)
conduct a full body scan – moving their attention systematically
through all regions of the body, from the top of the head, through
the front and sides, the core and limbs, down to the tips of the toes
(and often holding attention at points that could be rushed or
neglected – the chin, fingertips, etc.); then (2) notice sounds –
far sounds (birds, street noise), near sounds (floor creaks, shutters
moving), internal sounds (breath, pulse, heartbeat), but “making no
particular effort to listen”; and after settling into that calm,
situated awareness of self, (3) focus on breathing – counting each
inhale and exhale, and as distractions arise, staying present enough
to “let them come, let them go”: this trains the mind to approach
thinking analogously to breathing, not
as a desired object to hang on to distractedly, but rather as a
passing experience to be fully present in4.
An
important part of such mental practice is dealing with physical
discomforts—itches, numbness, joint pain—by studying it (“What
kind of pain is it? Dull, sharp, throbbing, steady?”) rather than
making stories around it (“Poor me. I'm so unlucky. Why is sensei
torturing me with this stupid practice?”). In this way, mental,
physical, spiritual exercise is one same study: a practice of
presence, where one's spiritual motivation (that genuine, felt
purpose behind one's training) shapes one's mental attitudes and
thoughts (those translations of direct experience into emotional and
rational mind-states), and thereby one's actions (those areas
attended to or ignored, words spoken and their tones, those actions
taken and their manner).
The principle
of such mental and physical study is learning to recognize and
control one's real-time responses to sensations, emotions, and
thoughts when difficulties arise. Though one's success from day to
day is expected to vary with one's energy level and focus, the aim is
always the same: do your best, always. And the way to that is hard,
but simple, work: developing principled awareness.
Mastery-work:
attitude refinement and experience-building
After the basic
level of using focus on breathing to calm the body and mind,
smoothing the agitations in one's perceptions5,
an individual can move to more advanced levels of practicing
concentration, deliberately turning common distractions into objects
of meditation:
- observing pains (e.g., noting the sensation as a helpful signal, managing it),
- resolving thoughts (e.g., addressing a guilty or angry memory by walking through that situation and picturing what one should have done, or can do now to move forward), and
- balancing emotions (e.g., evoking more broad-minded attitudes {equanimity, compassion, wisdom} to move one's feelings beyond survival-mode attitudes {desire, greed, aversion, ignorance} and the self-obsessed boundaries that those strong likes and dislikes construct between us and our environments).
In
this way, meditation provides an opportunity to attenuate the effects
of emotions like fear, surprise, worry, and doubt (the four “diseases
of the samurai”) and expand to different levels of perception by
developing one's power of concentration. The practice of martial arts
techniques, likewise, extends training of these abilities—either
through solo practice, or with partners—as a type of “meditation
in motion.”
The
Human Value of Budō: a
personal, practical, principled existence
These
budō
practices—alongside family interactions, work challenges, and
myriad other experiences in life—can all be approached as tools for
developing wise attention
– that is, “seeing that is based on awareness,” This ability,
to be present in experience, enables a person to bypass disruptive
emotions and distracting thoughts (tomorrows worries, or yesterday's
unrelated dilemmas) and to focus purposefully on the current
situation.
Bringing
oneself to a presently aware mental state provides an opportunity for
responding by appropriate means
– that is, “kind, respectful, truthful, and timely action.” And
through repeatedly engaging with experiences in this principled way,
one can develop a foundation of practical familiarity and confidence
across situations, nurturing the personal inclination to respond to
life's difficulties with a “right and sharp” internal state; with
ever more self-transcending states of mind:
- equanimity – “maintaining an impartial mind in the midst of life's changing conditions,”
- compassion – “a certain sense of responsibility for other people” based in appreciation for others' existence making our existence possible, and
- wisdom – “knowledge in service of the heart … [where] the heart tells me what I should be doing (the principle of mutual welfare and prosperity); the brain tells me how I can get there (the principle of maximum efficiency).”
These
mental states encompass emotions, motivations, and thoughts; they
help the individual to stay solution-oriented: to develop strength,
empathy, and prudence in practice. And they are simultaneously
personal, practical, and principled in nature: based in one's
individual first-hand experiences with the world; oriented toward
dealing effectively and efficiently with such experiences, given
one's traits and inclinations; and directed by a sense of being that
is connected to one's environment, humbly sustained by that
environment, and ultimately given meaning in life by supporting that
larger ongoing existence.
*
The
Place of Budō in Education
I have both
seen and benefited from the efficacy of budō's
holistic mind-body-spirit approach to individual self-improvement.
And for me, as an educator and educational researcher, budō
underscores the interconnection between personal and professional
development in learning-centered environments—with important
implications for educational practice, personal learning, the process
of becoming a teacher, and the nature of the teacher-student-subject
relationship:
Regarding
educational practice –
everyone's experience is naturally filled with highs and lows, both
internal (our fluctuating “receptive states,” e.g., emotional
control, clarity of thinking, motivational energy-level) and external
(the incoming “vicissitudes of life,” e.g., pleasure/pain,
gain/loss, praise/blame, fame/disrepute). Avoiding the discomforting
lows limits full awareness and the growth of wisdom: this means that,
if learning and personal growth are primary goals, then fluctuations
in daily performance should not be seen as permanent guarantees nor
as discouraging limits, but as valuable feedback—that informs
ongoing personal development and learning over time.
As my
sensei once explained,
“We are all humans; we all have our highs and our lows. But if,
during your lows, you allow discouragement to set in, you begin to
lose control. This is why there are certain words that we do not say
['try', 'quit', 'wrong', 'forget', etc.] … If you say 'Sensei, I
won't quit,' … the word quit
is already in your head; you are already struggling not to quit.”
Regarding
personal learning –
one's body and mind are intimately entwined, likewise one's emotions
and thoughts. This means that an individual's perceptions
are influenced by their sense of self, and their current attitudes
toward a lesson / activity / social atmosphere can and will influence
what they learn from those objects of study in a given situation.
Thus my sensei offers reminders like this: “Don't take it [an
explanation, a correction] personally; if you take it personally, you
will miss the lesson,” and “If you say in your mind, 'I cannot do
this; I am finished,' sure,
you are finished [before you move],” and mantras like these:
“Challenges make me think, thinking makes me wise, wisdom makes me
free,” and “Familiarity is the antidote to fear.”
Regarding
the teacher's role and becoming a teacher
– teaching is essentially a continuation of learning, where an
individual uses their own learning experiences and understandings to
help and guide others who are studying and developing in that area.
This position of leadership requires constant refinement of technique
(what one knows), method (how one teaches others), and character (how
one feels, thinks, and acts), since a teacher's core
educational tool is him/herself:
each acts uniquely as a living example of a school's / discipline's
standards, values, and practical possibilities.
Teachers
offer personal insight, through all modes of expression: “There are
many ways to explain, but the best is through your own actions.”
They offer guidance, again, in both actions and words: “A teacher
who wants his students to develop will say, 'Don't do what I do;
start from here, and eventually you will get to where I am, through
the process of development.'” And they offer reassurance, once
again, through words and actions in concert: “We place higher
demands on our top students, not because we want you to be
a certain way, but because we want you to be able to say to those you
teach, 'I went through that.'”
To
make immediate and approachable a subject that sometimes seems
distant and ungraspable to an inexperienced student, a teacher must
understand not only their subject, but the experience of learning
that subject deeply. Thus, explained the founder of Yoseikan, Minoru
Mochizuki: “A teacher is a student who teaches in order to continue
his study.”
Regarding
the teacher-student-subject relationship
– teachers and students are connected through the shared learning
of a common subject: their dō
or 'path' – an experiential term that implies both the impersonal
direction (e.g., dojo,
literally 'Place of the way,' a school; or Aikido,
literally 'Way of combining forces,' a particular field of martial
study) and the personal journey (e.g., budō,
literally 'Martial path,' the life-study of martial arts; as opposed
to bujutsu,
literally 'martial technique,' which focuses on technical study
without incorporating self-development).
Together
on this learning-centered path, a teacher's (ideally: wise) guidance
tests the students with purposeful challenges, and the students'
(ideally: effortful) struggles reciprocally challenge the teacher, as
both develop deeper, more abiding individual connections to that
subject. Each takes on a distinct, but synchronized role in shared
development of learning: “I cannot do it alone,” my sensei
explains, “a teacher needs students. But between teachers and
students there is always a path … and just because we are all on
the same path does not mean we will step in the same places.”
*
The
work of learning, and the art of educating—in whatever subject,
along whatever path—fundamentally requires the development of self;
the discovery, refinement, and sharing of that self; the cultivation
of a personal (sincere), practical (experienced), principled
(purpose-driven) character. Without that stable center, that human
heart, 'knowledge' is but an empty symbol, 'philosophy' but a shallow
pretense of virtue, and 'strength' but an artless force. And with
that human heart, knowledge and kindness and strength fill with a
single meaning (a purpose-driven life) and lead toward wisdom.
As
William Blake once wrote, “The road of excess leads to the palace
of wisdom.” If I had to turn this dauntingly long reflection into
a mantra brief enough for an educator's out-breath, it would probably
be this.
The
Way of Education: a haiku
“Do
not try; do your
Best, as yourself, and that
Much you will become.”
Best, as yourself, and that
Much you will become.”
– Josh
Kuntzman (15 March 2016)
1 As
my sensei's teacher, Minoru Mochizuki, once explained in reply to
his question, “What is the purpose of aikido?”: “It's learning
to deal with life's difficulties, isn't it?”
2 In Yoseikan Aikido, my sensei since the age of 12
3 The
difference in Randori: jiyu is for technical study, chikara
is for developing control and
effectiveness under duress.
4 My sensei
emphasizes here that the individual should both note a distraction
itself – labeling it “distraction” – and acknowledge the
tone with which one notes that distraction – was it with “anger,”
“impatience,” “amusement,” “acceptance,” etc.
5 (“like
the surface of a lake,” letting turbid particles settle down and
hidden objects float to the clear surface)
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