108 Kata Ritual

December 23, 2022

Normally many dojos do the 108 kata challenge on October 25^th, World Karate Day.  I chose to make this ritual our dojo’s end of year one because of a dream I had while I was still a brown belt in 2010.

 

Many of you know that dreams have guided me often on this path. When I moved to Singapore in 2008, I found myself in a dojo with two unique teachers with different teaching styles and emphasis. I was grieving the loss of one of them, who had returned to Japan a few weeks earlier, when I had a dream. In the dream — I receive a small package in the mail from my teacher. On opening it, I find a tiny Japanese temple bell.

 

I don’t know how I knew it was a Japanese temple bell but in dreams one knows things that one doesn’t know they know so I didn’t question this knowing. I merely googled Japanese temple bells and read about the ritual of them being struck 108 times on New Year’s Eve. 107 times on December 31^st and once after midnight, to bridge the new year to the old. 

 

This number 108 was familiar as it has special significance even in Vedic/Hindu traditions. Here, in the Japanese context, it came from the 108 desires and anxieties in Buddhist teachings that a seeker had to grapple with to reach enlightenment. The striking of the bell 108 times in Buddhist temples was meant to purify one from the desires and anxieties of the last year. This dream helped me process the grief, the letting go of the old to allow in the new, while never losing touch with what had been. 

 

When our other Sensei left Singapore at the end of 2013, I felt bereft. The feeling this time was heavier than before, as the dojo’s continued existence fell on me and one other black belt. I’m not sure it was a conscious decision but on December 31^st of that year I pushed aside our dining table and did 108 Geki Si Dai Ichi in the cleared space. It filled me with a determination to keep the dojo going in whatever form I could.

 

In 2014, I was joined by two more from my dojo in doing 108 kata. I remember marking our progress on a clipboard and completing the kata challenge in the little room at the substation that I had rented earlier that year, then having a beer with them after. That year it became the end of year ritual for our dojo. 

 

In these last days of 2022, I am grappling with a lot of sadness and loss about many things and several of them are karate related. 

The year in karate began strong with three of our browns testing to shodan, and one shodan testing to nidan, in February. I felt a sense of hope and accomplishment. It felt like this dojo now had deep roots and would grow well over the years. 

 

At the end of the year though I am unsure how much the storms of the year, the split in the global organization, has weakened our dojo’s roots. As a student of conflict, I know that intense friction at the top levels of an organization are mirrored at lower levels. As the strife in the divided organization played out on social media it found expression in our dojo too. I found my leadership challenged and I grappled with deep self-doubt that weakened me, until an event on December 8^th, which re-connected me to the determination and purpose I had felt in December 2013. 

 

It also feels like yearning for new, for advanced, has seeped into some, and this old ritual perhaps feels meaningless to them. I know though that old cultures understood better the continuity of old and new, and to them old didn’t mean outdated, or new enhanced. Growth that is in resonance with the basic essence of something, is one that sticks and sustains. Kata is a building block of fighting forms. 

 

Some dojos use the number 365 for their end of year ritual. But this 108 kata ritual is connective, almost sacred to me. It transcends practical considerations, times and worlds, and connects me to my karate ancestors. I am here because of them. Setting aside time at the end of the year to complete it, is a way of honouring them. As I practice, I feel their ancient spirits infusing mine. 

Challenges, Goals, Experiments

December 19, 2022

The challenge I am most behind in is the one i set for words/story-draft. Only 7000 words (instead of 11,700) and not a single word in my draft file. Though a story I would call, Sanchin Magic, is beginning to shape internally. Yet a blog post is banging around in my head wanting to come out. 

 

This morning when I filled in and photographed my challenge record, I noticed something that excited me. All year I have tried to find structure and ‘regularity’ in the things I do and have failed spectacularly, then beaten myself up and called myself a failure, a loser, etc. etc. etc. I’ve spent several hours consulting with my spouse, urging him to help with his scheduling projects experience, in making work charts. Nothing has worked.

 

Now I see that I am better at binging. I cannot, just cannot, do the same thing every day but if I set a general goal for the month, I can work my way towards it with long gaps and sudden spurts. I think I sort of knew this about myself but in the long, arid, desert of 'barely any words month after month', I decided to follow the advise that the muse would show up if one sat at one’s desk at scheduled times. That just sitting there on dry days and sharpening the pencils while waiting for the words that had to appear sometime in the near future was a worthwhile occupation. But all that I have done is wasted hours and then felt miserable about that. Though I also do believe in my father’s words, Don’t be afraid to waste your life. 

 

I’ve also trapped myself into the belief that when something is a way of life one does it every day. There is truth in that. Especially in the beginning of things, daily practice helps it seep into our blood and bones. But any belief is a 'blind spot'. It assumes that everyone works in the same way. Specifically in this case maybe for some people binging helps absorb the essence of things? We do come out of retreats — whether meditation or karate — with new insights into the same old thing we were doing daily. It also assumes that every day, week, year can be the same. But time flows and with it we change and no moment can ever be the same. No perfect day can be replicated by trying. No practice can be done so rigidly, right?

 

Suddenly I don’t really know what I am writing about. But one of the major conflicts of my year has been about allowing flow and following structure. I have been through times when structure inspires flow, but also know that neither can be scheduled. I’ve been silly in trying to do the things that matter on a daily or regular basis hoping for growth in those things. And I’ve been silly in the way I have tried to cram an over-brimming schedule into an already full day. I’ve been silly in setting daily challenges for a whole month. It just does not work for me. But a general goal seems to be ok?

 

Maybe I’ll try that in the first month of 2024 and see what happens. Maybe the rest of the month will show me something else. Now that this is on paper I can get back to my story draft J

 

Interested in knowing what works for you in creative pursuits and in learning endeavors.

Cravings and Guilt, and Tiredness

December 16, 2022

Yesterday after the last community outreach workshop of the year I was exhausted. It had been a difficult week and I was exhausted most days, but it hit a new low yesterday.

 

Yet I couldn’t go home and sleep. A craving had gripped me. I had to, just had to, get a few clickart zebra markers. The retractable marker with new technology that prevents it from drying up, ever. I had seen a few in Kinokuniya when I had visited two weeks ago, but the colours were limited so hadn’t bought any. I thought if Kino had them, then Popular surely would. So, after grabbing a meal in a quiet and empty Rocky Master (I’d rather have eaten some East Asian food in the basement of Raffles but everything was super packed and the noise in the basement was deafening) I headed to Popular in Bras Basah Complex. Ideally, I would have liked to have got some markers then eaten leisurely while making silly art in my journal, but I had been famished and needed to eat first. I roamed the stationery aisles on the top floor of Popular even after seeing that the Zebra Pens section didn’t have any. I hoped as a new product they might be displayed elsewhere. I felt dejected and the exhaustion felt more intense when I couldn’t find them. I really was wilting as I had already drunk all the water in the bottle I carry everywhere (yes, could have just bought more water but I wasn’t thinking clearly), but the desire to acquire clickart markers had grown so strong that I decided to walk to Tokyu Hands at Suntec. 

 

And yes, they didn’t have them either. I felt so desperate that I snatched a six-pack of Pilot Juice-ups, 0.4, and went home. As I sat in the MRT surrounded by people, each with a ton load of packages (it is Christmas), the guilt descended. I had known it would even as I was picking up and putting back the pack in the store, definitely before I paid the SGD15 for them. I could have just bought a pen or two, but I wanted the pack. It felt more indulgent, and I wanted to indulge myself. I don’t completely understand why. Perhaps I felt it might fill some of the end of year emptiness, or perhaps to study how I would feel and what I would do about it? 

 

The guilt wasn’t about giving in to desire. Desires and satiating them are a needed part of being human — for me at least. We can’t deny ourselves everything. Making choices of what to deny and what to satiate help me know myself. The guilt was about knowing that the pens I bought were not refillable and in buying them I was contributing to plastic wastes, thus messing with the earth and its environment. When I decided, about a decade ago, to switch completely to only gel pens that I could re-use indefinitely, and five years ago to fountain pens only, I had felt good. This choice I made yesterday made me think about the myriad other choices I make that contribute to global warming. All the unmindful things I do and tell myself that I am only one little cog, that me being mindful constantly puts an unfair burden on me and isn’t useful when millions of others never consider these things. 

 

I don’t know how this writing moved from describing a day in my life to the small thing that made me consider my values. I thought I would be writing about one of the thousand other things that occupy all the layers of my mind. 

 

So many other choices I’ve made, or am about to make, show me who I am. This year as awful as it has been in the way it has forced me to make choices I’d rather not make, has made me more mindful again and thus more in touch with myself, and for that I am grateful. I must be emerging slightly from the fog I have been in?

 

And the guilt — I decided to offer up some of the pens to other members of my family. I made swatches and took a picture. Hopefully there will be one or two takers. 

 

But the guilt of being fortunate enough to have many meals a day, access to healthcare, a stable roof etc. etc. etc. tops the guilt of the glass of wine, the cup of coffee, the steak I eat, that contribute to global warming. What do I do with this existential guilt? It would ease only if the word were more equal, but it becomes less so every day, doesn’t it? And honestly that truth is exhausting.

Oh and a challenges update — 128 kata (instead of 150), 7000 words (instead of 9750), two books read (that one is ok) until yesterday.

I Am A Fighter

December 9, 2022

 

My first update about my December challenges. I’m doing poorly with them — except perhaps the reading. Started well enough but having a cat with anxiety as a guest and having to visit doctors when the ribs/gastric pain soared, have been huge obstacles to progress. I am not surprised because the energies of 2022 were disruptive, so why should the last month of the year be any different. I sense disruption until February or March. 

 

It has been a year with shock and betrayal. And they have often come when I am most fragile. But it has also been a time when I have re-connected to both my strengths and compassion. Each time I’ve had a setback I have felt it intensely, thoroughly, allowed the crushed feeling a home, and expressed it outwards. But then something else has kicked in after I've had a good cry.

 

I am a fighter who does not give up. And it has been a surprise to discover this each time. Because really, you don’t ever know if the next time you are hit will be the one that will knock you flat. Each time I’m amazed to discover that vein of resilience within. 

 

And see the relationships that matter come through with support. 

 

Yesterday the abdominal pain spiked again. I got an emergency appointment with the gastro. He decided to also x-ray the ribs. The spouse had meetings and could not accompany me, but my daughter rushed to the hospital and sat with me through the long waits in radiology, and while registering for an endoscope. Initially I was disoriented, but she sorted out papers and pointed me to the right rooms and elevators. She also brought an extra scarf for me as I had left in a hurry and forgotten to take one. Hospital can be such cold places. Eventually wrapped in warm scarves we sat in a shrimp ramen place and ate piping bowls of noodles. Noodles are comfort food for me. Carbs fill that aching exhaustion, soothe the fear — for me they do anyway. 

 

The first week in December has been a sort of microcosm of the year. Good, painful, surprising. 

 

The first four days of the month writing flowed in a satisfying way. On, Tuesday I went for a briefing session for a community outreach program I am involved with. I heard about the number of workshops the program had completed and number of people it had trained. It gave me immense pleasure to see how much our small steps had accomplished. And slipping into a book has been easy and relieving. One book finished and one more by the weekend. Training slow, but never giving up. 

 

Sometimes the pain, physical and emotional, swells and engulfs. I sag a bit and allow it space and then go on. Yes, I am a fighter. Have been since childhood and karate has strengthened that strain in me. I don’t mean to ‘blow my trumpet’ here today but I did need to remind myself of my strength. 

 

A Map for December 2022

 Friday December 2, 2022

We have arrived here! Time zoomed through many months of 2022, but has been crawling in the last two for me. It’s also been busy and tiring, externally and internally.

 The one word I would use for this year is disruptive. Each time I arrived at some measure of peace or lightness, or a feeling that ‘I’m going to be ok now,’ I’ve been smacked around and reminded that things will go wrong — especially when I have put my feet up, stretched contentedly, and reached for a glass of wine, while watching the sky turn from bright to night. 

 But the human mind and body are tremendously elastic and resilient. I am reminded of those dolls we made for Physics class in 7^th grade, to demonstrate how a low centre of gravity equals a state of being where the doll re-finds equilibrium in an upright position even when pushed around. Many made their dolls with eggs — making a hole in the egg at the pointy end, letting it drain dry, and dropping in sand or pebbles, then painting it nicely. They worked well but had holes in their head. Others used two ping pong balls, the lower one cut in half and re-pasted after a weight has been taped to the bottom. These were cute but sometimes the balls rolled apart. I used a rubber ball the size of a cricket ball for the bottom and ping pong for the top with a stick that passed through both. I cut the rubber ball in half and stuck in a heavy paper weight and cello taped it together again first, then connected it to the ping pong ball and dressed the doll in a robe and wizard’s hat. Watching it roll back up was always so satifying. 

 I guess I have lowered my emotional centre of gravity with age. I roll back up despite the knocks. It is satisfying though exhausting. Oops I shouldn’t have said that aloud. Sure to receive a knockout blow soon.

 I don’t know why I want to do this — except my guts says I should — but I have recorded in my journal three challenges for this last month of the year. Maybe it’s my last chance to say, hey not too bad a year after all. I also have decided to not feel miserable if I fail in these challenges but laugh at myself for thinking I could defy the spirits of 2022. So the map is ready but if I go nowhere it is ok. 

 I should tell you what I have challenged myself with. I’ve kept it easy and doable. 

1.     Writing 20,000 words in the month and having a draft for a 5000-word story around karate. Like a mini, very mini, nanowrimo (national novel writing month, normally done in November) in December. A writing buddy is also doing her own challenge. 

2.     Doing a minimum of ten kata daily – making it up if I miss a day. This one was inspired by a friend doing a more challenging version of this challenge. Right now, I have bruised my ribs so my movements are likely to resemble a snails. But who says snails are too slow?

3.     Reading a book a week and reaching 47 books this year.

 I should be organizing things as everything — as in my closet, my books, my journals, my stationery, the kitchen, in fact anything that has doors in the living room too — is so messy. And mess outside creates a sense of dense anxiety inside. But instead, I am doing this. Because my gut tells me to. 

 What I need to do is relax, as in ‘flaneur’ and sip coffee in cafes, but I feel some structure and work might be more relaxing right now. Some measured work daily that allows my mind and body to then slip into the satisfaction that completing it creates. Yes, my gut tells me this. 

 If I can say ‘my gut tells me’ then I suppose I have moved a bit away from the state I was in a month ago when I felt I hardly knew myself. Maybe the changed profile pic helped. I made a few more very tiny changes beyond that too. 

It’s been a hard year. I still feel more heavy and dread-filled than light and hopeful. And I don’t think 2023 will be easier but I hope it might. It’s funny how we do that — hold all kinds of confusing contradictions within ourselves while at the same time wanting one-pointed clarity.