Seken wa semai yo / It’s a small world

While preparing for an upcoming class I came across the quote Seken wa semai yo, which translates roughly to: It’s a small world.

It is interesting the things you remember from youth. One that I carry with me is when, in elementary school, we had yearly musical performances, I'm sure as all children do.

There are a couple of songs I remember singing ranging from Country Roads, Take Me Home by John Denver to High Hopes (Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant) by Jimmy Van Heusen and Sammy Cahn, but the one that has always carried a special memory is the Walt Disney song It's a Small World After All.

In years past I've traveled to a number of Walt Disney destinations and each time came across the same song.

The jingle always sticks in my mind...

it's a small world.
it's a small world.
it's a small world.

It's a world of laughter, a world of tears.
it's a world of hope and a world of fears.
there's so much that we share,
that it's time we're aware
it's a small world after all.

it's a small world after all
it's a small world after all
it's a small world after all
it's a small, small, small, small world.

There is just one moon, and one golden sun.
and a smile means friendship to everyone.
though the mountains be wide.
and the oceans are wide.
it's a small world after all.

it's a small world after all
it's a small world after all
it's a small world after all
it's a small, small world.

it's a small world after all
no matter if you're big or small
come on everybody let's bounce to this!
let's play some love with a little twist!

it's a small world after all
it's a small world after all
it's a small world after all
it's a small, small world.

After hearing the song I flash back from the present moment to the past when my class was singing on the stage. There are fond memories of friends I grew up with and played many games with, each has gone their separate ways, but when we cross paths, fond memories arise. It also makes me realize how fast time goes by and that time in school is a microcosm of the world we live in.

I flash back to the present moment and time seems to have stood still when I think of how fast it has been since I first started my training and study of Aikido. I smile when thoughts drift from the beautifully decorated, well appointed, and world known dojos to the tiny, unknown, “non-ventilated” training halls I’ve trained in and all the great Aikidoka and Budo practitioners I've had the privilege of meeting and training with.

All have contributed to who I am today and I realize that each of us is unique in our many ways and share our friendships and experiences with one another every time we get on the mat and train or sit and converse over a hot cup of tea or a cold beverage.

This would not have been possible had I not entered that first Aikido dojo, over twenty years ago.

Flash back again to that first class: the waning sunlight streaming through the windows, watching the small dust particles float in air. The feel of a fresh, stiff, new dogi; each movement eliciting a crackle. The sight of people swishing across the mat like they were skating; broken only by the soft slap of a hand to mat as others go rolling by.

Suddenly my nose picks up a strong, clearing scent of an overly bleached dogi offset by the welcoming smell of recently oiled trim work.

The thought and moment closes with the feel of a small bead of sweat rolling down my temple, followed by the command to line up, sit in seiza, and bow in for the class.

As the years and miles have rolled by, the true treasures are the friends I’ve made and training partners I’ve had the great privilege of working with and will always be with me, wherever I train or travel.

Gozo Shioda Kancho said during the first year of the IYAF (International Yoshinkan Aikido Federation) "My idea is that since the world has become such a small place we should move beyond thinking in terms of nationalities. The goal entrusted to this federation is to spread the harmony of the aikido spirit throughout the world. Its purpose is to create a peaceful world where it is possible to harmonize with anyone of any race. There is nothing as wonderful as the spirit of harmony and when I started this federation I thought about how we must all get along, how Americans and Soviets must become friends. I thought how the world is a single family and that we must make the world into a place filled with fine human beings."

It seems with those flash backs I’ve come full circle and the jingle is playing in my head again…

it's a small world after all
it's a small, small world.

To The One

I came across this wonderful writing by Paulo Coelho, author of many books including the The Alchemist

Such depth of writing in a tribute to a peace advocate and a guidepost to everyone on how to look at and live life.

TO THE ONE

To the one who understood her task and her purpose.
To the one who looked at the road ahead, and understood that it was a difficult journey.

To the one who did not make light of those difficulties,
but, on the contrary, made them manifest and visible.

To the one who makes the lonely feel they are not alone,
who satisfies those who hunger and thirst for justice, who makes the oppressor feel as bad as the oppressed.

To the one who always keeps her door open,
her ears listening, her hands working, her feet walking.

To the one who embodies the verses of another Persian poet,
Hafez, when he says: Not even seven thousand years of joy are worth seven days of sadness.

To the one who is here tonight, may she be one with all of us,
may her example multiply, may she still have difficult days ahead,
so that she can do whatever she needs to do,
so that the next generations will not have to strive
for what has already been accomplished.

And may she walk slowly,
because her peace is the peace of change,
and change, real change, always takes time.

Message from Paulo Coelho to honour Shirin Ebadi at the Nobel Peace Prize Ceremony, Oslo, December 11th 2003.

Re-Drawing The Lines: Neurodiversity

The high-light of the YIPA Conference for me, was hearing and meeting Jonathan Mooney.

His speech was titled "Re-Drawing The Lines Neurodiversity: A Compass to a Changing World." Some of the highlights included citing extensive research and tying it to real life stories with ideas parents, students and educators can follow and use to transform learning environments into those that truly celebrate cognitive diversity.

Some wonderful ideas I found in his book, co-written with David Cole, Learning Outside the Lines: Two Ivy League Students with Learning Disabilities and ADHD Give You the Tools for Academic Success and Educational Revolution included:

"Learning outside the lines and living a life less ordinary is about moving beyond blackboards and academic success, to creating experiences that embrace and nurture the parts of our selves that are left unrealized by traditional education (pg. 247).

"Developing the Creative and Passionate Self"

"Too often, creativity and passion, two of the best things about being alive, get pushed out of our definition of self. Creativity is often restricted to art, when in fact it is a way of engaging with the world, a way of thinking and living. In fact, the imagination is the root of all change, because it allows us to imagine a world different from the one we live in. Pursuing creative endeavors, whether sculpting or writing essays, allows us to live fully in the world, drawing on our emotions, our personality, our intelligence, and our souls. Creativity is not concerned with solutions in a logical linear sense, but rather embraces the ironies, complexities, and humanity in our daily lives (pg. 251).

"In a world concerned with normalcy, the passionate self also gets the boot. Passion is threatening, and when we live with gusto, we take huge risks by rocking the boat. But a passion for things, for people, for ideas, is what we are all looking for, what this business of success is all about. Keep on the lookout for activities, classes, or the like that arouse your passion. These are the kinds of activities that when you start them, the restrictions placed on you fall away, and your life becomes like flying. You're gone, without knowing it and without having any control (pg. 251).

If you ever get the chance to see Jonathan, I highly recommend you take it. It will be a wonderful opportunity to realize that your efforts of working with others gives them great benefit, but the real reward is the gift you receive back when they smile.

The Power of People

Today Jim Sensei and I attended the 2009 Youth Intervention Conference, in St. Paul and represented the Shuharikan.

There were a great number of speakers at each of the break-out sessions ranging from Safe and Healthy Schools presented by Edward Marsman and Michael Coyne of the MN Institute of Public Health.

Their presentation's key message was:

The principal objective of school violence reduction strategies should be to create cultures and climates of safety, respect, and emotional support within educational institutions.

Dr. Marc Mannes who presented Sparks: It Starts with a Single Spark, his presentation highlighted that a "Spark" is something that gives your life meaning and purpose. It's an interest, a passion, or a gift. He asked the question: What do you bring to the world that is good, beautiful, and useful?

The keynote speaker was Dr. Verna Cornelia Price who spoke on The Power of People: Four Kinds of People Who Can Change A Youth's Life.

Her presentation asked the questions:

What is your calling or what were you born to do?
What have you learned working with kids or children?

All were excellent presentations and clearly expressed the conference themes of "promoting effective and efficient early intervention services for youth."

Leaves

The leaves are turning with the onset of Fall. Today it has been raining too. The smell of ozone and a little nip in the air - I love Fall!

A drive along Summit Avenue in St. Paul and listen to part of the poem by Lloyd Schwartz is favorite way to spend an afternoon.

"You'll be driving along depressed when suddenly
a cloud will move and the sun will muscle through
and ignite the hills. It may not last. Probably
won't last. But for a moment the whole world
comes to. Wakes up. Proves it lives. It lives—
red, yellow, orange, brown, russet, ocher, vermilion,
gold. Flame and rust. Flame and rust, the permutations
of burning. You're on fire. Your eyes are on fire.
It won't last, you don't want it to last. You
can't stand any more. But you don't want it to stop.
It's what you've come for. It's what you'll
come back for. It won't stay with you, but you'll
remember that it felt like nothing else you've felt
or something you've felt that also didn't last."
-Lloyd Schwartz

What do you like about Fall? Is it a sight, smell, or a sound?

Stop for a moment and picture it in your mind - hold it fast as Fall is going quick!

Personal Safety for Children

Safety - a condition of being or feeling safe; freedom from danger, risk, or injury.

As individuals, we should all have the feeling of safety. Be it safety at home, at school, or playing in the neighborhood; children most of all should have this feeling.

Unfortunately this is not always the case. The Shuharikan strives to provide students skills to deal with physical dangers as well as a number of ways to deal with conflict from others, often verbal in nature.

The National Center for Missing & Exploited Children created a wonderful resource guide, Personal Safety for Children, for parents to share and discuss concepts with their children.

SAFETY

Dear! of all happy in the hour, most blest
He who has found our hid security,
Assured in the dark tides of the world that rest,
And heard our word, "Who is so safe as we?"
We have found safety with all things undying,
The winds, and morning, tears of men and mirth,
The deep night, and birds singing, and clouds flying,
And sleep, and freedom, and the autumnal earth.

We have built a house that is not for Time's throwing.
We have gained a peace unshaken by pain for ever.
War knows no power. Safe shall be my going,
Secretly armed against all death's endeavour;
Safe though all safety's lost; safe where men fall;
And if these poor limbs die, safest of all.
-Rupert Brooke

How many dojo have you trained at?

Recently a young student at the Shuharikan asked me "How many dojo have you trained at during your time in the martial arts?"

Wow - what a great question! I don't know the actual number, but what I remember most is the variety and specialness in each one.

As I reflected more on the question, two wonderful descriptions come to mind, no matter the art style.

The first is from Richard Strozzi Heckler in his book Holding the Center: Sanctuary in a Time of Confusion.

"...layers of memory that take me through thirty years of training in dojos spread over a dozen countries. They've ranged from the traditional dojos of Japan with meticulously hand-crafted designs and highly polished wood to converted garages that were so small you had to wait against the wall for your turn. Dojos whose surfaces ranged from the classical fiber tatami mats to wooden floors, tire filings under canvas covers, rugs over cement, straw mattresses, and one that was laid out on hard-packed dirt beneath a flowering mango tree.

There were dojos dedicated to preserving the traditions of ancient fighting systems with the air of formality and erudition that one finds in the archives of great universities. Others were word-of-mouth dojos that collected tough guys and those in the profession of arms-special operations soldiers, secret service agents, bodyguards, law enforcement tactical units, street fighters looking to test themselves. In the small changing rooms you could hear the sound of boot knives handguns being unstrapped.

In one particular dojo I was unexpectedly gripped at the entrance by the luminosity that emanated from it. It was a work of art in its physical beauty but it was visceral feeling of the sacred that moved me. That evening a profound mood of reverence was present in the training. I felt like a small child holding a rare and priceless vase, and an emotionally charged sense of responsibility guided me. As I bowed out at the end of class, tears filled my eyes. I felt connected not only to those who had made this place possible, but to something weightless and eternal. In this dojo I understood the words of the poet, John Keats, when he said, 'Beauty is truth and truth is beauty.' And there was everything in between."

The second is from Dave Lowry in his book Persimmon Wind: A Martial Artist's Journey in Japan.

"The community dojo nearest Sensei's house was called the Genyokan. It was about four miles away by foot or car, along a narrow prefectural road, then another three-quarters of a mile after that by a seriously vertical hike. The first time I visited it, before I'd even reached the dojo itself I had already decided that if any martial artist came to Japan looking for the ideal training hall, the dojo of his dreams, there would be no way he could be disappointed in the Genyokan.

More gracefully rendered in Japanese than in an English translation, the kanji characters for 'Genyokan' mean 'the hall of the source of evening's twilight.' It was an entirely appropriate name if ever there was one. I am certain that only the most determined or lucky or badly strayed beams of sunlight could ever have filtered their way through the evergreen canopy that enveloped the dojo. The forest around it was so intense that it was quite invisible from no more than fifty feet away from its front gate. At that distance, there were only the great round pillars of cryptomeria trunks, their piney scent tinting the shadowy, motionless air. The dojo was approached by a path of set stones that ran through the gate, its wood whitened with age. There was no fence, only this gate with its thick oak panels and above it, a Shinto torii arch. When the gates were closed, so was the dojo. Opened, they signalled that training was going on and members passed through them to the dojo structure itself.

The Genyokan was built in the shindenzukuri style of architecture, as are most traditional dojo in Japan. The walls were low, topped with wide-eaved roofs. The roof was hipped and fluted upward at the corners where it met the underhang. Roof-tiles, once shiny blue were now a rich azure that showed through here and there where the moss and fallen rusty cryptomeria needles had not completely covered it. The outer walls were creamy plaster and supported by a framework of dark, age-stained wood. There were no windows, just ventilation openings set high up on the walls and covered with wooden shutters. When the shutters were slid back, there were thin slats that protected the windows and kept birds out. These openings were also far up enough along the walls to frustrate any view in from the outside. In the old days, matters in the dojo were private. It would not do for an outsider, possibly a spy or enemy, to learn the secrets of the arts being taught within. This concern for secrecy is reflected in the architecture of all traditional dojo."

What is the best memory you have of training or the most unique dojo you've trained at?