Yosemite National Park 

The Da Vinci Kata

"Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication." -Leonardo da Vinci

Learning a kata requires that you go through several stages. First you have to learn the basic pattern and the techniques. Then you have to perfect what you've learned. Then you have to deconstruct what you've learned and perfected in order to truly understand what the kata is teaching you vis a vis close quarter engagement.

Mastering Stage 1 and Stage 2 kata is challenging enough on its own without adding the ingredient of introspection that comes with Stage 3 kata. Many people prefer to remain in Stages 1 and 2 because, for one reason or another, the introspection of Stage 3 doesn't appeal to them. There's nothing wrong with staying in Stage 1 or 2. As they say in Italian, Chi sta bene, non si muove. "If you're happy where you are, don't move."

For those of you who're interested in entering Stage 3 of your kata practice, it's best to keep in mind the quote from Leonardo at the start of this article. Faced with a multitude of techniques in any kata, and baffling limb placements, it might seem an impossible task to understand what is actually being taught by the kata. When confronted with this reality, try to keep things simple.

1. Most techniques in kata were originally intended to occur at very close range. As karate evolved into a club and sport activity, techniques were exaggerated to make them more pleasing to the eye of the spectator/judge. The importance of this for your understanding of the kata is that elbows and knees are often the weapons of choice as opposed to hands and feet. Hands are generally used to check or trap your opponent¹s strikes while you position yourself to deliver the "money shot."

2. The pattern, or embusen, of a kata may give the impression that techniques flow in a specific direction, one after the other, like traffic. This isn't necessarily so. Although the pattern may be telling you that the next technique is delivered after you turn 180 degrees toward your opponent, challenge this notion instead. Think of what makes sense if your goal is to deliver force accurately and quickly to a target. While choreography looks good in the movies, simplicity is the preferred option in close quarter engagements.

3. Each kata has several themes within it, like a piece of music. Search for these little "melodic signatures". They are very brief, so expect them to arise and recede quickly.

4. When seeking a bunkai or explanation, choose the one that involves making the fewest assumptions about your opponent's behavior. William of Occam, a scientist/philosopher who lived in 13th Century England, actually made this a rule of good science. "Eliminate all that is unnecessary in order for the hypothesis to remain predictive" is a statement known within Science today as Occam's Razor. Use the razor.

Assume as little as possible and keep your bunkai simple and brief. Doing so, you honor the spirit of the kata's originator while abiding by the well-known Japanese spirit of simple sophistication, wabi-sabi, and the artistry of Leonardo. See you in the dojo!

Gambatte kudasai. Osu!

Kagami Biraki, West LA 2005 

Shibumi

In the dojo, what ISN’T said is often as important as what IS said. To most of us who’ve been raised in the USA, the reticence we encounter in the dojo can be off-putting. American society is very “content” oriented. Our legal contracts, for instance, run for pages and pages. Everything needs to be spelled out. In “context-oriented” societies there is far less reliance on such a literal approach. Much more importance is placed on the relationship between the two parties entering into an agreement, for example, than is placed on the contents of that agreement itself. Essentially, the relationship creates a context. Everything flows from the relationship. It would be considered rude in such societies to ask for confirmation or proof of each other’s bona fides before agreeing to a meeting. The decision to meet in the first place conveys all that needs to be known.

The Japanese word shibumi is applied when describing something that is “just so.” By that I mean something that has neither too much nor too little of precisely what is called for in a situation, whatever the situation may be. In the discipline of mathematics, a proof that is simple but explains much is called “elegant.” In physics too, incisive theories of cause and effect are referred to as elegant. Elegance is a suitable English equivalent for shibumi. The word conveys something that is timeless, refined, potent and somewhat reserved.

Our Seido practice can cultivate our perception of shibumi. Much of this is done through context. Saying less rather than more is part of the context of the dojo. A trusting relationship, in this case trusting silence, precedes any change in perception. Much of your training can be explained in a didactic manner, but such an approach loses a valuable element of the practice; introspection. There is a time for words and a time for silence. The traditions of karate-do and Zen suggest that, in terms of personal growth and understanding, trusting silence is the more valuable approach of the two. In terms of its ability to ignite your curiosity and propel your practice, a non-answer is often exactly the right response to a question.

Gambatte kudasai! See you in the dojo. Osu!

Idyllwild, 2005 

Hone o oru

This Japanese expression has two basic meanings. The literal meaning is to break one’s bone(s), as when falling from a height. The figurative meaning is “to try harder.” That is, to try so hard that one’s bones break.

Undertaking bonebreaking work is a core value in a classical Japanese dojo. Passage through such an ordeal presents the karateka with new insights into his or her kokoro, or heart-mind-spirit. These insights often serve to diminish the strangle-hold the ego had held on the mind prior to the ordeal. Contrary to popular belief, diminishment of the ego does not render a person ineffectual in the world. In fact, the smaller the purchase your ego has on your life, the more able you are to access highly functional energies and insights that a too-strong ego would deny. A person with a strong bond to kokoro places confidence in something beyond the small self of the personality. This bond provides the strength to prevail when other’s, more rooted in their own egos, fall by the wayside.

Kaicho has often spoke of this aspect of Seido training, the aspect of managing the ego. It is Kaicho’s belief that this encounter with one’s own ego (defenses, projections, delusions) is the fundamental “fight” that the true karateka wages, and that hard training is the path to ultimate victory. Thus, we in Seido don’t “train for” some tournament of upcoming event, as much as we “train through” the continual, “bone rattling” battles we have with the ego.

Gambatte kudasai! See you in the dojo. Osu!

Grand Canyon National Park 

The Five "S" Process

When I trained at Honbu I used to keep one of the towels reserved for cleaning the floor at the end of class close by me so that I could sop up the sweat that gathered in puddles on the floor beneath me during waza practice. During one such class, I took advantage of a momentary break in the training to clean my space with the towel. When I was finished I lightly tossed it toward a support pillar on the main floor of the dojo for later use. “Don’t throw!” Kaicho yelled. “Place down on floor.” He seemed very annoyed with me for my oversight. Needless to say, I never forgot the lesson: tossing or idly placing anything in the dojo was not acceptable behavior for a Seido karateka.

In large organizations around the world, managers are confronted with two important considerations: efficiency and effectiveness (quality control). How, they ask, can their employees be encouraged to become more efficient and effective? There have been many approaches to answering this question. One of the most effective originates from Japan and is called “The 5 ‘S’ Process.”

The 5 ‘S’s are: Seiri, Seiton, Seiso, Seiketsu and, finally, Shitsuke. Loosely translated, these stand for organization (tidiness), orderliness, cleanliness, standardization of methods and, finally, discipline. Regarding the first S, Seiri, this relates to taking out the trash and other things that no longer serve a purpose in the workplace. Seiton, or orderliness, is slightly different than Seiri. It refers to putting the things that ARE used in the workplace back in their proper place when they’re not being used. Seiso means that everyone cleans up, not just those whose job it is to do that. Everyone is a janitor. Seiketsu refers to the creation of rules for how to clean up and a routine to make sure it gets done. Shitsuke, or discipline, is the commitment everyone makes to practicing the first 4 S’s all the time.

Of the 5, Shitsuke is the most important. Without everyone’s commitment to always abide by the first 4 practices, bad feelings can arise. People start to notice if they alone are the only ones keeping the shop clean. Resentment of those who don’t chip in starts to creep into the workplace and to interfere with the work itself.

Shitsuke, discipline, is a core value in the Japanese culture. It is conveyed to every child from the first moment of their schooling experience to their last. The closest equivalent we have to it in American culture is “team spirit,” or perhaps the sense expressed by the famous motto of the Three Musketeers: “All for one and one for all!” Still, these only approximate the intensity of feeling the value of shitsuke holds for the Japanese.

In Seido we practice the 5 S’s every time we enter the dojo. We all work to keep the dojo clean and we all have (or should have) an idea of how things are to be done. Everyone participates in the process, and we are all committed to doing the best we can. This practice not only helps to keep the dojo clean and student morale even-keeled, it establishes a way of life that we can take into our jobs. Though it may seem like it doesn’t make a difference in the “dog eat dog” atmosphere American culture, practicing shitsuke slowly and surely distinguishes you from your competitors. People notice the difference. Shitsuke, the commitment to best practices, separates you from the ordinary precisely because of your close attention to the ordinary. Gambatte kudasai! See you in the dojo. Osu!

Kyoshi T. Pastrick 

Seido and The Shadow

Not long ago in Rome during a Master’s Tennis Tournament something remarkable happened. In a tightly contested game, American Andy Roddick challenged a linesman’s call on a ball hit by his opponent. The remarkable thing about this incident was that Roddick argued against his own interest. He insisted that the opponent’s ball had landed inside the line and that he, Roddick, should NOT be awarded the point. Spectators applauded as if they’d witnessed a miracle. Imagine! Sportsmanship in a professional sporting event.

Such adherence to the principle of “fair play” is especially remarkable in this day and age, when the broad culture places a higher value on winning at any cost than it does on playing by the rules and planning for the long term. According to geneticists and anthropologists, however, it was always this way, and will always be thus. In Dark Nature, naturalist Lyall Watson states that the study of DNA and the genes it codes for shows that there are 3 rules that all living things abide by. Rule 1 is, be nice to insiders. Rule 2 is, be nasty to outsiders. Rule 3 is, cheat a lot. By adhering to these 3 “commandments”, the genes of an organism have a greater chance of making it into the next generation. That trip alone is the objective of every living thing. The articulation of these 3 rules makes a powerful case for doing whatever it takes to succeed.

The problem with living by those 3 rules, though, is that such a life is completely directed by unconscious programs and allows no room for choice. In such a world, Andy Roddick could never have the ability to question the “rightness” of the linesman’s call. He would have no choice but to follow the dictate of Rule 3: cheat a lot. The fact that he chose to override Rule 3 and advocate for a new order suggests that another world is possible beyond that of mere survival.

Throughout history, humans have perceived the possibility of something beyond “the selfish gene“, as Richard Dawkins called it, and have struggled to bring that vision into existence. We have fought for new “games” or societies, with new rules. In these societies insiders are scrutinized and outsiders are made to feel welcome. Cheaters are shunned. Because of the power of our genetic programming however, the creators of these new rules are usually reviled in their own lifetime as traitors to the status quo and the old ways continue undeterred.

We cannot deny our selfish “nature.” But neither do we have to embrace it unquestioningly. Wisdom traditions around the world acknowledge the interplay between the fight for survival and the fight for choice. The Chinese culture even created a logo, if you will, for this interplay between the old and the new. The yin/yang symbol illustrates the sage acceptance of two powerful forces interacting with each other, the shadow and the light. Carl Jung, the Swiss psychiatrist, asked, “How can I be substantial if I fail to cast a shadow?” Both facets of existence, light and shadow, are necessary to maintain balance and order at the new, conscious level of life. Acknowledging the shadow can prevent it from taking over while we are busy pursuing the light. As the old adage says, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.“

As I’ve written in previous articles, the budo tradition in Japan came into full flower with the emergence of the “sword that heals” as a counterweight to the “sword that kills.” By envisioning a new order that acknowledged both tendencies, the budoka entered into greater harmony with life. An admitted assassin in his youth, Musashi matured in his later years and adopted this new approach, one that did not require murder for success. His substance was only enhanced by his awareness of the shadow.

Kaicho has spoken and written often about the values of the karateka. By emphasizing these values, there is a tacit admission of the power of the shadow, the blind rush to prevail over others at any cost. As karateka, we take upon ourselves the difficult task of balancing the two forces within ourselves. For instance, we practice skills that are meant for conflict, yet we subscribe to the ideals of peace and harmony.

The genetic program to be nice to insiders, nasty to outsiders and to cheat a lot is powerful. The quest for a life of conscious choice is just as powerful. Achieving a greater harmony that encompasses these two forces is never easy. It never will be. Gambatte kudasai! See you in the dojo. Osu!

Santa Monica Beach Training, 2005 

Waza and The Green Room

“On this day he had lived with that feeling, with death breathing right in his face like the hot wind from a grenade across the street, for moment after moment after moment, for three hours or more. The only thing he could compare it to was the feeling he found sometimes when he surfed, when he was inside the tube of a big wave and everything around him was energy and motion and he was being carried along by some terrific force and all he could do was focus intently on holding his balance, riding it out. Surfers called it The Green Room.” - Black Hawk Down, Mark Bowden

Let’s be clear; our sparring in the dojo in NO way, shape or form compares with the reality of combat. There was a time in Japan centuries ago when the opposite was true, when sparring in the dojo was intimately related to the reality of death. Live swords were used and the possibility of dying by the sword hung over each adept. As you can imagine, the use of live swords prompted intense zanshin, much like that described by the soldier in the above passage.

Absent the use of live swords or fights to the death, how do we train zanshin in our pedestrian, workaday 21st century world? Should we all become surfers and through that gain entrance into The Green Room? I don’t believe that’s the only way, though the thought of “catching a tube“ does seem pretty cool. Should we all become soldiers in battle? Obviously not. Instead, I believe the best way for a karateka to enter The Green Room is through waza.

Waza is a very old term in the Japanese language. It’s supposed to designate technique in the realm of the arts. All arts. Fully defined, waza means “a gesture or act that has a profound meaning or is done with a significant intention; the act of doing something knowingly.”

The sense of this word may not be fully conveyed by its definition. In the context of traditional Japanese culture, waza is a means or method of achieving unity, harmony, and the full integration of thought and action with spirit. It’s the fusion of the self (ego-based) with the universal principle, The Green Room. In previous articles I’ve written about shugyo, as with the swordsman drawing his sword 10,000 times within a 24 hour period. Such practice leads to a short-circuiting of boundary awareness and allows for the possibility of an entirely new understanding of self to emerge. This is an example of integrating thought and action with spirit. Such a practice presumes that one has in oneself the potential to enter into resonance with the principle that rules the universe.

Shugyo is not something we can undertake every day. But waza is! Every time we come to the dojo we can set our intention to the sincere practice of basic technique. By training the non-abiding mind, mushin, through waza we can wear down the habit of incessant ego-boundary awareness and enter into resonance, zanshin, with the principle that rules the universe. Call it The Green Room or chi, or The Force or Super-String Physics, the intuition of a power beyond our rational mind has been part of the human experience for as long as humans have been on earth. The desire to resonate with that force has played a large role in our journey as humans, and perhaps in our journey as karateka.

Returning to the definition of waza given above, a crucial point needs to be made. It is this: while waza is an act undertaken with significant intention it is NOT a means of achieving a pre-conceived end. In other words, waza is not yet another form of manipulation by ego. Waza is a journey without a self-determined destination. It is a game in which we are not making the rules. This “unpredictability” releases us, even if momentarily, from our addiction to the fiction of having control over Life. When we release that addiction, we’re in The Green Room. Gambatte kudasai!

See you in the dojo, dudes!

Osu!

West LA Seido Dojo 

Monkey see, monkey do

Chi gyo ichi nyo is a familiar expression in the dojo. The word chi means knowledge. Gyo means doing, or action. Ichi nyo means inseparable. Action and knowledge are one! Acting without adequate knowledge or understanding is a constant source of frustration and problems. In our lives we are often busy and active, without really understanding the basis of our actions and their full impact. Some people study karate without knowing why they are really studying. In class they do the techniques without understanding their purpose, and so they lose much of the benefit.”

Mindless, conditioned behavior occurs on all levels of life. A single person or an organization of people can act mindlessly. Patrick McCarthy, hanshi, and author of many books about the origins of karate, offers a useful parable describing the process of mindlessness and the dangers of leaving conditioned behaviors unexamined.

“Start with a cage containing five monkeys. Inside the cage hang a banana on a string from the ceiling and place a set of stairs under it. Before long, a monkey will go to the stairs and start to climb towards the banana. As soon as he touches the stairs, spray all the monkeys with ice-cold water. After a while, another monkey makes an attempt with the same result - all the monkeys are sprayed with ice-cold water. Pretty soon, when yet another monkey can’t resist trying to climb the stairs, all the other monkeys aggressively try to prevent it.

Now, turn off the cold water, remove one monkey from the cage and replace it with a new one. The new monkey sees the banana and immediately wants to climb the stairs. To his surprise and horror, all of the other monkeys attack him. He tries again and is attacked again. He realizes that if he tries to climb the stairs, he will be assaulted.

Next, remove another of the original five monkeys and replace it with a new one. The newcomer goes to the stairs and is attacked. The previous newcomer too, takes part in the punishment with enthusiasm. Replace a third monkey. The process will be repeated. Two of the four monkeys attacking the new member have no idea why they’re not allowed up the stairs, or why they are participating in the beating of the newest monkey. Why not?

Because as far as they know, that’s the way it’s always been around here!”

Chi gyo ichi nyo. Develop both the will to examine your assumptions and the courage to discard erroneous beliefs. Karate-do encourages the student to examine their assumptions about life. Moreover, true karate-do IS the experience of a mindful life. Where karate and zen come together, mind and action are one and the same thing. Ken zen ichi nyo. Sword and mind are one! So say the masters. This is not something to believe. Its something to experience. Practice is essential. Gambatte kudasai. See you in the dojo. Osu!

Lake Tahoe 

Gassho and Kokoro

At the beginning of every class, or almost every class, we do a series of exercises. The Japanese word for this sort of calisthenic exercise is undo. These exercises derive from the Goju style of karate created by Miyagi Sensei in Okinawa in the early part of the 20th Century. In devising these exercises Miyagi no doubt borrowed liberally from the Chinese, whose influence on the southernmost island of the Japanese archipelago was immense.

More than a thousand years before, many Chinese had themselves borrowed from their southern neighbor, India, and adopted Buddhism as a philosophy of living on par with the naturalism of Lao Tsu and the social conservatism of Confucious. The story of Buddism's migration from India to China is an interesting one. In India, Buddhism competed with Hinduism for market share, so to speak. It did very well, as we can see by its continued existence today, two thousand years after the Buddha's death. However, after awhile some of the "old school" Buddhists grew disenchanted with the politics of the large organization that had arisen around the practice of Buddism and sought a return to simpler ways. One of the disenchanted monks, Bodhidharma (known in Japan as Daruma), left India for its northern neighbor, China. There, Bodidharma is said to have sat for nine years in meditation, seeking enlightenment. To maintain his health, legend has it that he devised exercises borrowed from the characteristics of the wild animals he observed in the mountains where he meditated. The Shaolin Temple arose from Bodidharma's spiritual/physical exertions. The Shaolin monks became more than adept at Bodhidharma's exercises, primarily for the purpose of defending themselves against roving gangs of thieves who plundered the Chinese countryside. The Temple thrived but yet again internecine politics arose around the basic practice.

When Buddhism was adopted by the Japanese from their Chinese neighbors nearly a thousand years ago it underwent a another decisive transformation. The motivations behind this change were not unlike those of the Protestant movement of Martin Luther in Christian Europe and the earlier revision of Buddhism by Bodhidharma. With Buddhism Japan, characteristically, sought a more direct apprehension of The Mystery, one stripped of unnecessary adornment and intercession. Thus, the Japanese removed everything from the practice of Buddhism except the basic act of sitting. Just sitting, or shikantaza, forms the essence of Cha'n, or Zen, Buddhism. It is this practice that we attempt in the dojo, sitting either in seiza or on the seiza benches.

Looking around the West LA Seido dojo, you can see echoes of Buddhism's story in the Daruma dolls sitting on the counter of the front desk and by the shinzen. You can also "see" it in gassho, the exercise that often concludes the undo at the beginning of class. Gassho signifies the dissolution of our existential duality. By bringing the two hands together, two become one and the illusion of separateness is dissolved. Gassho signifies that the boundary of our ego is mometarily erased and the unity of life is experienced as it is.

The distant echo of Indian Buddhism is also found in the three movements associated with gassho, the bringing of the hands from above, in front, and below to the mid-chest area. These three actions point to, respectively, the Buddha, the Sangha and the Dharma, the three jewels in the crown of Indian Buddhism. The Buddha represents the ideal of non-attachment acheived through meditation, the Sangha represents the community of meditators, and the Dharma represents the path of Action undertaken by the meditator in his or her everyday life.

At the core of this crown is The Mystery, the immediate apprehension of the source of all Life that lies beyond words, beyond thought. It is not by accident that all three roads, the Buddha, the Sangha, and the Dharma, lead to the heart.

Seido karate-do is a "whole-hearted" practice. The word for heart in Japanese is kokoro. While kokoro refers to "heart" as it is commonly understood in the West, the Japanese word also designates the function of the mind, which is both emotional and intellectual. We can readily grasp the intellectual aspect of mind, but what is meant by the mind's "emotional" aspect?

Simply put, the mind's emotional aspect is understood as our "intention." When we act with intention we access our beliefs, those principles which give meaning and motive to our lives. Seido karate-do offers us an opportunity to examine our actions as expressions of our motives. Our highest purpose is to align what we do with our principles. Anything less produces a "half-hearted" effort.

Seido is a "whole-hearted" practice. Seido means "the sincere way", the way of whole-heartedness. As with Buddhism, there are few prescriptions for action in Seido. Instead, there are suggestions which you are asked to investigate for yourself to see if they're helpful in your life. Or not. The choice is your own, as is the process of examination.

By beginning each class with gassho, we remind ourselves of our fundamental creativity as human beings. Kokoro and the three tools, or jewels, are available to each of us in our creative process. What we do with the profound creative power of intention is also up to each of us. Success often depends upon commiting yourself to the goal with your whole heart. Gambatte kudasai (please do your best)!

See you in the dojo. Osu!

On Mt. Baldy, California 

Dented, but Undaunted

Nana korobi ya oki is the core belief of Seido Karate. It assumes that life is challenging and that we sometimes fall, unable to meet the challenge. Still we get up, undaunted, embracing our own spirit, our own capacity to prevail. The alternative, to stagnate or dwindle in spirit and action, is simply unacceptable.

Where do we fall, generally speaking? There are certain patterns to life and these patterns, like the embusen of the kata we practice, have pivotal points. We tend to fall on the pivot because we are changing direction, going off the well-trodden path.

We each embark on certain, predictable missions in our lives. We go out into the world to secure basic necessities, relationships with others, a reputation for ourselves, a power base, a true vision and a capacity to see life's blood flowing through everything equally. Each of these separate missions require that we re-orient ourselves, both inwardly and out in the world. Each mission indicates that the previous mission, necessary and good though it may have been, has in some way failed us. We discover the need to grow past what we once saw as a goal on the horizon. What once was the future is now behind us.

It is important to recognize when our spirit has grown. It may feel like a failure or a death of sorts, but without these moments of change, these pivotal moments when we recognize that we must once again put on our battle gear and fight for a new life, life would lose its flavor, and our heroic journey would truly end.

Seido practice is many things to many people. But what it offers to everyone equally is the opportunity to experience challenge in a deep, mindful way, the better to appreciate the lives we live. Just as importantly, it restores our ability to appreciate the lives of others. Feeling this deep connection with others, our heroic journey is not in vain. Train hard. Gambatte kudasai.

See you in the dojo. Osu!

Pine Needles, Yosemite National Park 

Millenium Challenge

In 2000, the U.S. Joint Command Forces, a sort of think tank within the military, began planning a war game named Millennium Challenge. The scenario of the game was as follows: a rogue military commander had broken away from his government somewhere in the Persian Gulf and was threatening to engulf the entire region in war. He had a considerable power base from strong religious and ethnic loyalties, and he was harboring and sponsoring four different terrorist organizations. He was virulently anti-American. There were two teams in the game; the Red Team, which played the rogue forces position, and the Blue Team, which played the American military position.

The Red Team was small in number compared to the Blue Team, which had every war technology in existence at its disposal for the game. The Red Team had technology, too, but it was miniscule compared to its opponent’s. Prior to the game’s start no one expected the Red Team to win.

The Red Team’s leader, a former American Colonel by the name of Paul Van Riper, had some radical (for the military) ideas of how to deal with the scenario he was given. He had his team analyze their options BEFORE the actual engagement. They figured that Blue Team would go after certain of their assets, like communication and power systems, first. So they devised plans for acting without these resources. Then they trained their basic skills, like troop movement and low-tech communications (using couriers on motorcycle rather than satellite phones) over and over and over again until their forces felt confident of these skills.

As important as these preparatory actions were, what truly distinguished the Red (rogue) Team from the Blue Team was its management system once actual fighting began. The Red Team allowed its leaders in the field make decisions without having to check back with central command before acting. Van Riper and his leadership group described their role as being “in command but out of control.” While errors were made by the Red Team, their “messy” organizational system had one overwhelming advantage: allowing people to operate without having to explain themselves constantly turns out to enable something called “rapid cognition.” Rapid cognition is like the flash of insight we sometimes get that produces the solution to a nagging problem. The Blue Team, on the other hand, held endless meetings with charts and computer screens and the whole Power Point misery we’ve all experienced. In the midst of battle, the Blue Team was overwhelmed by its own attachment to massive but useless information processing. It was a classic case of “paralysis by analysis.”

The Red Team won the Millennium Challenge in 2 days.

The world we live in is afloat in information. We’re barraged by “news” and entertainment options, and purchasing choices, and lifestyle decisions 24/7. A cell phone comes with a 200-page User Manual. A trip to Starbucks provides us with dozens of options FOR COFFEE. Its crazy-making and worse, this surfeit of information in minor matters can cloud our judgment when something really important confronts us. Malcolm Gladwell's new book, Blink, details how this has come to pass and what strategies exist for dealing with it. Its an interesting read, but yet another bit of information that floods our minds.

Karate-do offers us a way to practice being “in command but out of control” in our own lives without referring to a book. Our practice reduces the “noise” of the 21st century that threatens to engulf us and allows us to hear and respond to our intuition. Call it Rapid Cognition or A Funny Feeling, our intuition is a valuable resource, perhaps the most important resource, when faced with having to make a decision.

At a certain point, we have to acknowledge that more information won’t help us. Karate-do, or “moving zen” as Kaicho sometimes refers to it, can be viewed as a practice of paring away the things that no longer serve us in order to better appreciate and cultivate those parts of life that do. By simplifying, but not over-simplifying, we allow ourselves to be more available to the moment before us. Being available, we meet what is here, now. Our lives, and the lives of the people around us, are enriched by our simple presence. Gambatte kudasai!

See you in the dojo!