Chapter 11: The 'Void'

Next morning, I woke up early. After lazing in the bed for a few minutes, I got out. It was too early for Kathy to wake up, so putting on some sweats I went out for a short jog.

The air outside was chilly. Not to risk a cramp I started to walk at a brisk pace in the direction of a playground not far from her place. Half-way, I switched to a jog. To tell the truth I never enjoyed jogging much, except when I was at a beach. There, the early morning or late afternoon jogs had always been nice. In the city, I didn't feel like jogging or running, even when I could find a park or a green spot. It just wasn't the same. However, I could spend hours walking from block to block, visiting shops; mostly the bookstores and electronics shops. When Kathy tagged along, she had trouble keeping up with my pace, especially when I was window-shopping for electronics. In many ways we were alike, except in our choices. She would spend hours in a department store and I would be in a bookstore, browsing through their selections, eventually ending up with an armload of books to take with me on my trips. Sometimes, when I had the patience, I would accompany her to department stores. However, I usually had a magazine or book to while away the time, as Kathy tried on clothes. She liked to read as well, whenever she had time from her studies or during her long shifts in the hospital, but her literary taste was mostly dictated by my choices. At the end of my vacation, she ended up with most of the books I'd bought. She didn't mind reading my choices in sci-fic, thriller, or horror genres. In fact, she developed a liking for Robert Ludlum, Stephen King, Wilbur Smith, Asimov, Clarke, and a few others.

It didn't take long to reach the playground. At this early hour it was deserted, although in an hour it would get crowded, when the parents and school buses brought the kids to the school a few hundred yards away. At lunch hour, this place would be bustling with kids, a few of the teachers keeping an eye on them. I decided to take advantage of the early hour, and do my Tai Chi practice. When I finished, I sat on one of the benches, enjoying the crisp morning air. As usual, I was feeling at peace after my exercise. It had been a while since my last practice--the last two weeks at the rig had been busy and I hadn't had the time--and now, I realized how much I missed and needed the exercise.

In the quiet solitude of the empty playground, I found my mind wandering; the fragments from early years drifting in and out, reminding me my study and practice of various martial arts, but especially Tai Chi. Slowly, my thoughts started to converge, following an ever narrowing spiral track, like the circular, fluid moves I had performed a short while ago...

...

Tai Chi was the first martial art I had learned, and the one that I enjoyed the most. From outside it almost looked like an exotic form of ballet. I guess that was one part I liked about it; the calm and peace I found in the deliberate, studied slowness of each move, each stance, and the eerie grace and the fluidity that were present as I went through the forms. This was the only martial art where I could feel the chi, the inner energy my sensei always talked about. I had never advanced to the higher levels with some of the martial arts I took up, but Tai Chi offered me more than the others. What's more, the experience with Tai Chi came in handy when I practiced the other martial arts. Although it looked like a ballet performed in a slow motion replay fashion, Tai Chi was a serious martial art and it could be put to use with astonishing results, when performed at high speed.

The next martial art my sensei taught me was Aikido. No surprises there. It was another defensive martial art. Although the two had very little in common, (in fact their origins were as far apart as they could be, one being Chinese and the other being Japanese), somehow, I made the transition to Aikido much easier and faster then I expected. Despite the differences in their origins and the forms, they complemented each other. I found myself using the circular, fluid motions of Tai Chi, in combination with the grips and locks of Aikido, changing from one form to the other instinctively.

Once, I had my sensei on the tatami mats during practice, the first time ever, and we had a short discussion about it. I was elated to be able to beat him, but was also curious whether that had been a fluke or a lucky break. He had explained that I had been in the moment and in harmony with my opponent. He went further to explain that in combat or a fight, there was rarely any harmony to be found and the outcome was mostly determined by the skill levels and the readiness of the spirit, the mental attitude. I had the skills, but I had to learn about the timing and being in the moment; the spiritual and mental preparation.

Thus, began a new journey, one that was filled with frustration. On rare occasions, it filled me with dread and fright. He started me on Kenjutsu, the art of the sword. It was, for the most part, repetitive and boring; practicing the cuts with the bokken countless times, until my muscles memorized each move and they became second nature. Then, we started on the meditative forms, while my practices with the bokken concentrated on timing. I didn't enjoy Kenjutsu as much as Tai Chi or even Aikido. It took me a long while to make progress, although Tai Chi helped, to a degree, with the meditative forms and spiritual preparation. Later, we moved on to the opening stances, and katas, and how to move from one cut to the other, as I did with Tai Chi. But, I was far from being able to improvise as I had with Tai Chi and Aikido, mixing and matching moves, grips, and locks. I had, however, learned about timing, and was making progress in being in the moment.

I studied the spiritual preparation and mental attitude. I was still concerned about winning, as anybody would be in any kind of competitive sport, but Kenjutsu required a completely different set of mental attitudes. I knew (and learned) about clearing my mind, and controlling my emotions like anger, and even fear. But, Kenjutsu required me to delve deeper, where it led me to... the Void. A place where there was no emotion... no thought... just emptiness. It had been a scary experience, filling me with unease. It had felt alien, dark and foreboding.

Although my sensei felt my unease and reluctance, he urged me to explore it. We had long discussions about the Void, and about my reluctance. He managed to convince me that my notions of light and dark, good and evil were what kept me from exploring the darkness and the emptiness I had discovered in the Void. One day, instead of Kenjutsu practice, he asked me to perform my Tai Chi exercises. Once I completed my practice, he asked me to repeat them, but also to seek the Void during the exercise.

It was a different experience and a new discovery. He joined in, and we moved into combat Tai Chi, once again switching back and forth between styles, from Tai Chi to Aikido--the higher levels of Aikido that could be used to attack instead of defense only. And, I was in the Void, in that dark, swirling mess; no emotions, no thought, my senses awake as if I had a third eye that I could look at the world. At the end of the practice, he prepared tea, letting us wind down, and we discussed what I experienced.

"So, Mitchell, what did you think about today's exercise?"

"It was different. The emptiness... the darkness wasn't what I thought or felt it would be. I'm confused. Why did it seem foreboding when I tried it with Kenjutsu?"

"It was my mistake, Mitchell. I apologize. Kenjutsu is still a combat art, although its teachings are peaceful. They should be used to attain calm and peace. I had forgotten your upbringing. You are still, very much a Westerner in upbringing, and have different notions about life and death, good and evil, light and dark."

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand, Sensei."

"Mitchell, when you take the sword in hand, the katana or the bokken, you are automatically associating it with life and death, even if it is for practice or for competition like Kendo. At the best, during competition, you are still concerned about winning or losing. You can control your fear, and empty your mind to some degree, but, you were never able to let go, and free yourself. You've learned about controlling your emotions, emptying your mind, but there is a deeper level... the Void. You never really reached that state in Kenjutsu, and that is why you had, you have difficulty."

"What about Tai Chi and what happened now?"

"Ahh. That is the crux of what I was trying to teach you. You have the answer yourself," he replied.

I pondered his cryptic words; what he said about Kenjutsu and how I felt about it compared to Tai Chi.

"Tai Chi is a solo martial art, and defensive, and I find it easy to attain calm and peace," I said.

"Precisely. You don't concern yourself about winning, and you don't associate it automatically with life and death. Even though, you know it can be used for combat, and very effectively so."

"So, I managed to sink in the Void, without preconceptions. The darkness in there is... part of the light... Yin and Yang?"

He nodded, then asked, "What did you find in the darkness, Mitchell?"

"Emptiness..."

When I didn't continue, he prompted, "And?"

"Purity and clarity," I replied, still contemplative, and trying to put into words my experience.

He raised an eyebrow, his black eyes urging me to continue.

"It was as if I was seeing the first time... if seeing is the right word?"

A small smile formed on his usually expressionless face. "Good. You've been a gifted student, Mitchell," he said, then paused to consider his next words. "I have to say, however, that you might not progress further. Does that bother you?"

"Why do you say that, Sensei?"

"You will not take Kenjutsu as a martial art, and continue to study it further, will you?"

I thought about my answer. I wanted to learn more, but I knew my heart wasn't in it, not as much as in Tai Chi. I was happy to keep learning more if I could, and practice what I had learned, but I didn't have the time to devote to further my studies.

"It would require more time than I could devote to it. I've started very late."

"Yes. That is so. I'm glad you recognize your limits. But, you'll keep at it, as time permits, and practice what you've learned?" he asked.

"Yes, Sensei."

"I have to warn you, Mitchell. That might prove to be extremely frustrating. You want to learn new things, and enjoy making progress, however little progress it might be. You have the patience for it, but Kenjutsu is an art that is difficult to master, requires a lot of time. I think you'll find that the little progresses become unsatisfactory after a while. You have a hunger for more. On the other hand, Tai Chi and Aikido will reward you well. I think you will find a lifetime of joy in them."

"Yes, Sensei. I understand. But, knowing all that, why did you start me in Kenjutsu?"

"It served its purpose. You had moved along faster than I expected. That day, when you beat me to the mat, mixing Tai Chi with Aikido, I realized I needed to introduce you to the Void. You needed to learn about timing and being in the moment. You had learned them partially, with Tai Chi and Aikido. You could center yourself, and feel the chi, but timing and being in the moment are basic and essential to Kenjutsu. More than that, the cut of the Katana requires a purity and clarity of spirit. You needed to learn about no mind, and the purity and clarity of spirit. I wasn't sure if I could teach you without Kenjutsu. And I wanted to see how far you'd progress in Kenjutsu."

"There is," I paused, "more than that..."

His dark eyes glittered for a moment at my comment, as if pleased at something.

"Yes, there is, Mitchell. You needed to be exposed to martial arts that have uses in combat, that are not purely defensive. Combat Tai Chi is a very effective martial art, as the later lessons you've learned in Aikido. But, they are, in essence, more suited for defense, rather than combat. You know you're good, but there are a lot of people who study martial arts. Somebody who is very much proficient in one of the martial arts, like Karate, could take you down. You needed an edge. You can hold your own against many, and with the Void, you have an edge, unless you encounter another who knows about the Void. Master of one Art is master of nothing. You remember that, don't you? I also know, you'll use your knowledge for self improvement. Otherwise I wouldn't have taught you, Mitchell."

I bowed, and said, "Thank you, Sensei."

He returned it with a short bow, and replied, "Thank you, Mitchell. It's been a rare privilege to teach you."

We drank our tea in silence for long minutes. Seeing me deep in thought, he said, "Mitchell, this is not goodbye. My door is open anytime. I know you want to continue your studies and I'll be glad to help. You still need to practice more to be comfortable with what you have learned today, and I would like to see you practice Kenjutsu at the level you can."

"Yes, Sensei. I wish to continue. Thank you for your kind offer."

"Mitchell, that's the least I can do. But always remember, and recognize your limits. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I thought about his question. I wasn't scared of what I had found in the Void, not anymore, but, I wasn't sure if I would seek it, even in Tai Chi. I knew I had to seek it in Kenjutsu, to make progress, but I had more trouble with Kenjutsu. When I explained my thoughts, Sensei nodded his agreement.

"Yes, Mitchell. I was expecting that, and that's why I had to warn you about frustration. You may not feel comfortable to seek the Void, even when practicing Tai Chi, but know that it's there, when you need it. Tell me Mitchell, is it because you think its purity and clarity is almost absolute that you're concerned you'll be corrupted by it?"

"Yes, Sensei. Or the temptation to use it might become irresistible."

"I understand, Mitchell. Remember that it's a mental technique, a discipline, like centering yourself, but it is beyond the other techniques. That is the only difference. You don't need to use it or continue practicing that, if you feel uncomfortable. As I said, it will give you an edge, when you need it. You know about timing, and you know how to be in the moment. Those are all you need. You should by now, know that your awareness is on a different level. You have come a long way, Mitchell. And, that makes me happy."

I guess, I did... from that little scared and hurt boy to a confident and calm teenager.

...

I was nine years old, when I had seen him practicing the strange thing in the ballpark. It was late afternoon, all the kids had left the school several hours ago, and I was still carrying the bruises of my last encounter with one of the school bullies. The physical hurt wasn't that bad. Once I got over the initial pain of a punch or two, they were reduced to an uncomfortable throbbing. And, the burning anger helped reduce the hurt to the point where I didn't feel much of the pain. I was sick and tired of feeling helpless, but as a nine year old, without many physical attributes, I didn't stand a chance against some of the more developed or older kids. After a few brawls, I wasn't even scared. I just wanted to pay back, for once, for the humiliation of losing the fights, not for the physical hurt.

Seeing this strange guy go through some complex sequence of moves with eerie slowness, I headed for one of the benches to watch what he was doing. I had no idea what it was he was doing, but after a while, just watching him, I forgot all my worries and hurt. I felt a calm that I hadn't felt for a long time. After he finished, he walked to me, and sat down on the same bench, and we talked. I was interested in knowing what he was doing, and he was concerned about how I looked. Once I learned what a martial art was and what he was practicing, my first question had been, if he knew Karate. When he replied he did, my second question had been if he would teach me, which he refused. However, he offered to teach me Tai Chi, what I had seen him practicing. When I didn't show an interest, he told me it would help more than Karate would. I couldn't see how Tai Chi would help, and he asked me what I had to lose by giving it a try. To make it more interesting, he suggested that after a year of Tai Chi practice, he would reconsider my request about Karate. He asked me if I understood what he was proposing. When I replied that he wasn't making a promise, but I might get a chance to learn Karate after a year, he smiled.