Manners Lesson

Manners Lesson

Gray beard walks in peace

Youths want to bully –

Painful manners taught

From an incident of yesterday's morning walk. There is not always strength in numbers and the old are not always weak. There are always surprises! Yet, I also failed by my response. Today my harmony is now restored.

BUSHIDO LESSON: ON ONE'S OWN DEATH

On One's Own Death

One who follows Bushido believes that it is of prime importance to keep their death in mind at all times. This means every day, every night: from New Year’s Day morning until New Year’s Eve night.

If one keeps their own death in mind at all times, and by this I mean an awareness or consciousness of ones own death (but not to the point of obsession) one will always be able to fulfill the needs of loyalty and family duties. With this “consciousness” one can also then avoid a myriad of evils, calamities, and hardships. One is likely to be more physically sound and healthy; thus, they may actually have a longer life. An additional benefit is likely to be that one’s character will improve and they will grow in virtue.
You may well ask, “Why?” All life, including human life, can be likened to the evening dew or to a morning frost; that is, life is something that is indeed quite fragile and ephemeral. This is true of anyone’s life, no matter what his or her station in life may be.
If a person blinds themselves to the inevitability of their own death, that is, if they take comfort in the belief that they will live a long time, that they will live “forever,” it may indeed be possible that something will happen to them. They may think that they have “forever” to do their work and to take care of their families. Because of this belief that “tomorrow will never come,” they may well feel that it is not necessary to work hard or to tend to their families with less care and intensity.

If one realizes that the life that is here today may not be here tomorrow, then when one is given a task by their employers or when they look at their families, they may have the sense to realize that “this could be the last time.” In doing so, one cannot help but to become more attentive to their work and to their family.

Be that as it may, if one unmindful of death and thus becomes careless or inattentive, they will have a tendency to be less cautious and careful in their lives. For example, one may be more inclined to say something that is offensive to another and get into an argument, which could itself lead to any number of consequences. One might find themselves in places or in situations that they perhaps would not have otherwise gotten into, again with any number of consequences for themselves or for those around them or for their employer, parents, siblings, or children. The consequences of our actions can have far reaching results sometimes, results that perhaps should have been easily avoided, had one kept in mind their own mortality.

With one’s own transience in mind, when one speaks and in replying to what is said by others, one is more likely to understand the substance and significance of every word. One will be less likely then to engage in pointless arguments.

People from all economic and social groups tend to excess, that is, they overeat, they tend to drink too much, and they indulge in their desires to a harmful degree, all because they give not even a small thought about their own death. This kind of behavior, this kind of “lifestyle,” over time can put a strain on their bodies. As a result, there is every possibility of their dying at a younger age or at the least, becoming sickly and weak. With the potential of one’s own death in mind, even if one is young and healthy, they will automatically know how to take care of themselves. They will be moderate and be mindful of food and drink, avoid addictions, and are more likely to be more sensible. The result is that they will tend to remain healthy and to increase the opportunity for a longer life.

On the assumption that one will “live forever” or that their passing is so far into the future so as to not be worth consideration, one will be likely to develop a money-oriented or acquisitive mentality. That is to say, they will have a tendency to become more desirous of things, cling to their possessions, and to desire more. When one realizes that life may be very short indeed, greediness, acquisitiveness, and materialism weakens and thus the character improves.

How does one keep death in mind? Well, certainly it is illogical and therefore wrong for one to simply sit there and wait for death, or for one to become obsessed with it. This may be all well and good for a monk but with such a mindset, one cannot function or survive in the modern world. To regard one’s death in that way is to turn one’s back on their duties to themselves, their families and to their employers and it defeats the entire purpose of thinking about it at all.

The idea is for one to go about their duties every day, and at some time when their mind is free of distraction, to give some thought to the transience of their existence. Perhaps, in the morning, before going out and about they duties is a good time to give thought to this matter, for the thought of life’s fragility will stay in their mind for the entire day. Perhaps also at night, before retiring, is another good time for such thoughts. Think about the day just past and recall everything that ha happened. Ask yourself questions.

“Did I do well today?” The answer will be either “yes” or “no.” “If I have another day to live, can I do better?” The answer will always be “yes.” And as your eyes close at the end of that day, take that thought with you and bring it on to the next.

Swordman - Dai Chikamatsu Zenshu

Swordman - Dai Chikamatsu Zenshu

I came across this ukiyo-e today and thought that I would share it with everyone. It is by Yamaguchi Sohei and dates to about 1923 to 1926. What I find rather striking about this print is the expression on the samurai's face - not the fierce look or even glee that one would see in an old movie with Mifune Toshiro, but something else - anguish, horror? What do you think?

(First published 2006.09.14.)

COURAGE: AN OLD FABLE FOR MODERN TIMES

Courage: An Old Fable for Modern Times

04.30.06.

Once, long, long ago, in Kamakura, there lived an old Samurai. Well, he was not just an old samurai. Actually, he was really not such an old man, but his hair (now thinning) was silver as were his neatly trimmed beard and mustache, and he was at the age when every injury he had every received in battle, every scar, reminded him daily that they were there and thus how he came to have them. He was a man of great fame in the province and had a reputation for courage, honesty and wisdom. A master swordsman, a sensei of kendo, iaido, and bushido, he was hatamoto to the shogun himself in Edo, and ready at a moment’s notice to go into battle for his lord. It was said that he was never seen to smile, yet, it was also said, that if you looked closely, you could often see a twinkle in the old man’s eyes.

But, he was retired now, as retired as any samurai can be. Now he spent much of his time in the beautiful garden of his home in the hills of Kamakura, or writing haiku, and producing beautiful works of shodo and sumi-e that were renowned all over. He also had a small dojo where he taught selected students in the samurai arts as well as in the culture of Japan.

The old samurai had a grandson, Ichiro, whom he loved early. The samurai’s son, Ichiro’s father and also a samurai of some position, was far too busy going about his duties, against the old samurai’s advice and teaching, to pay proper attention to his wife or to see to the proper training and preparation of his son. Therefore, the old samurai chose to take Ishiro under his wing, and sought to provide him with the best training and examples possible.

Ishiro was 8 years old, small for his age; yet, good looking and perhaps even a bit “cute” which is probably not a good thing to say about a future samurai. Ichiro worked very hard on all of his lessons, from swordsmanship, to hand-to-hand combat, to reading, writing, and even mathematics. Whenever studies for the day were over, Ichiro and his friends would do what all young boys do: rough and sometimes dangerous things that tested themselves and each other in terms of their physical ability and courage. While the old samurai was satisfied with Ichiro’s over-all abilities, he knew also that often his grandson lacked confidence and was hesitant or failed to keep up with the other boys. Ichiro was also aware of this.

One day, in summer, one a warm afternoon, as the old samurai sat in his garden “watching the rocks grow” he was interrupted by the presence of his grandson. “I am so sorry to bother you Grandfather,” the boy said. But I must talk to you.” His voice was sad and perhaps even trembled a bit.

“What is it Ichiro? You know that you may ask me anything,” answered the grandfather.

“It is something unworthy of your time I am sure, but I have know one else to ask. I feel so badly because I am not nearly as strong, brave, or courageous as my friends. They all seem to have great courage and I have none, Grandfather. Where can I find courage? How can I find it, get it,” Ichiro asked.

“Oh, so you think you have no courage?” The samurai asked.

“No grandfather, I don’t and I have no idea where to look for it or how to find it,” the boy answered.

Grandfather thought and thought, all the while with a sparkle in his eye and fighting to hold back a smile. “Well, this is indeed a serious matter Ichiro. Tell your mother to bring you here hone-half hour before sunset tomorrow, in your best clothes. Tell her only that it is for a very special ceremony that I will conduct, and nothing more than that. Now, you may go. I will see you tomorrow evening.”

After Ichiro had left, the old samurai went to the kitchen of his household and asked the head cook for small portions of the bitterest herbs he had on hand. Carefully, and with a slight smile on his face, he wrapped each of the herbs carefully in small silk packages and set them aside for the following day.

The next day, at the appointed time, Ichiro arrived at his grandfather’s gate accompanied by his mother. The old samurai’s wife, Midori-san, took the boy from his mother at the front door and said only, “Ichiro will return home shortly. His grandfather wishes only to do tea with him, nothing more.” As the boy and Midori-san walked down the hallway toward the garden, she explained to Ichiro that his grandfather was preparing a very special and secret ceremony, during which he would receive courage and instructed him that he was to say nothing to his grandfather but to observe strict silence and respect. Furthermore, he was never, under any circumstances, under pain of severe punishment, to ever tell anyone of this.

Now both frightened and excited, he entered the garden and walked along the path and over the small footbridge to the small teahouse at the rear of the garden. There his grandfather waited for him. Silently, the boy made a deep bow and then, has he had been trained, took the proper position at the old samurai’s side. The old man only nodded to the boy and began the ceremony, as formal as any tea ceremony you could ever imagine, with the difference that in addition to the traditional macha, the old man made a point of showing the boy each of the “special” herbs as he opened their packages and added them to the “tea.” At the end of the preparation, the old man offered Ichiro the cup, a beautiful cup of many blue and white glazes. The boy accepted the cup and began to take the first sip.“Oh! This is terrible grandfather! So sorry, but I cannot drink this at all. You cannot expect me to drink such a thing! What is it?” Ichiro blurted out.

Calmly, the old samurai turned to his grandson and said, “Well, if it was inside of you, it would be courage. Even just a taste of it has given you the courage to speak to me in such a rude and disrespectful manner. Now, finish it,” he ordered in the sternest fashion he could muster.

Hesitatingly, the boy looked deep into his grandfather’s eyes, then bowed deeply, and with difficult, drank from the cup until it was empty. Then the old samurai took the coup from his grandson and dismissed him, reminding him to never mention any of this to anyone, under any circumstances.

In the following days, Ichiro, despite his small size, began to change, and gradually was able to keep up with his playmates and even to challenge their abilities to keep up with him. The old samurai noted this with great satisfaction.

Then one day, his grandson came to him again. “Grandfather, I think you most deeply for the courage you have given me, but I fear that it is gradually diminishing.”

"Oh, whatever can you mean Ichiro-chan?” the old man asked.

“Well,” answered Ichiro, “Sometimes my friends and I, when we are doing things after class, playing or climbing, or well, doing many things, sometimes they are very dangerous, and I find myself hesitating to do them or not wanting to do them. I am worried that my courage is wearing away. What should I do, Grandfather?”

“Well,” answered the old samurai, again with a sparkle in his eyes and nothing but kindness in his voice, “Perhaps it is not that you have lost any courage at all. Only perhaps, it is the beginning of wisdom.”

© 2006, Hayato Tokugawa