Welcome to the Portland Quest Center Blog
To-Shin Do master instructor and school owner John Gentoshi Poliquin shares some stories of his training experience over the last several decades. We post pictures from our latest Demos and training events. Whether you are training now or not, stay connected with your friends and the Quest community.
| S | M | T | W | T | F | S |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| « Nov | ||||||
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | |
| 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 |
| 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 |
| 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 |
| 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | |||
.: Recent Posts :.
.: Archives :.
.: Meta :.
“The Middle Way”
Posted By Administrator on August 25, 2009
Extremes may be nice places to visit, but they are rarely good places to live in. The Buddha was thinking along these lines when he proposed “The Middle Way”. Briefly, the “middle way” is a practice of non-extremism. The middle way supported a path toward wisdom, morality and mental cultivation that excluded the extremes of austerity and self indulgence. We may talk more about that another time, but for now, let’s apply this thought to our martial arts practice.
At first blush, the words “martial” and “art” may appear to exist in a subtle state of mutual exclusivity. “Martial” tends to be associated with terms like war, combat, fighting, violence, aggression, etc. and while there are exceptions, the connotations generally lean to the negative. “Art”, on the other hand, usually brings thoughts of painting, sculpture, music, dance, creativity, and is generally thought to be a positive thing. When the two are paired together, something rare and beautiful can be created.
In training, I think beginners need to focus their efforts more on the martial side of the equation. They need to pay attention to details, fundamentals of movement, basics. They need structure and repetition to learn about timing, distancing and angling. As they become more experienced, they begin to exercise more creativity. Eventually their experience allows them to become artistic. This is true of many areas of endeavor. A cook may start out learning from others and following recipes (kata), but eventually they come to create new dishes on their own. Budding musicians often play songs they know and follow sheet music (kata), but may grow to write their own songs or just play appropriately with any music that is around them. In martial arts, advanced practitioners (3rd dan and above) need to start creating for themselves. Though, obviously, their creative skill comes from the years of experience that they are able to interpret in new ways.
As beginners, we must be careful to do our best with the basics, with the kata that teach us certain skills. And, we must be careful about trying to become too creative too soon. If we do this in cooking, no harm done – unless you have to actually eat the spaghetti and marshmallow sandwich. In self protection, being too creative too early may have more disastrous consequences.
As advanced practitioners, we each have to be aware of a scale and the extremes that exist on either end. One end I will call the martial end. We focus only on kata and repetition. There is a danger that our training may become rote, mechanical and imitative. We might learn to “perform” the kata very well but may lack appreciation and insight on how to translate the lesson into solutions for real-life conflicts. We may not even understand what lesson the kata is trying to teach. On the other end of the scale is the pure artist. At this extreme, our movement may be expressive and creative, but we may lack the technical, mechanical skill born from structure and repetition. Striving for creativity – to do it “our way” – we may forget the important foundation taught by ancient kata. We sacrifice centuries of experience distilled into lessons.
Living in either extreme, places a limitation on our experience and our potential to fully develop in the art we practice. In my own training, I sometimes remind myself of the “middle way”, that these extremes may be useful places to experience but unsatisfactory places to live in.
I sense an adventure:
Posted By Administrator on July 21, 2009
It is 1988 and I am in Japan with Mr. Hayes. We have already seen and done much, enough for a later tale or two. The sun is warm on my face and the day is one of those that just seems to breathe life into me. We are somewhere in ancient Japan, I don’t know where. There is a small museum, an outdoor training area and an obstacle course. The small buildings scattered about create the feel of a hidden ninja village. I suck at the obstacle course, but there are two Japanese men in ninja garb that seem quite skilled at traversing it.
I am enjoying a reflective moment when I my attention is drawn to the steps of a small building where Mr. Hayes is standing with a mischevious smile. He raises his eyebrows, opens the door and disappears into the building. I have no idea what is happening but I sense an adventure, and though I am not quite sure if I am invited, I jump in to follow him. I am immediately swallowed by absolute darkness and my first instinct is to feel for a light switch in a building that has no electricity. Sigh… As I consider the merit of that action, I hear Mr. Hayes tell me to stay close and keep up! I’m thinking, “What?!…It’s pitch dark in here! Are we going somewhere?” I feel him move off in a forward direction, and even though I am completely blind, I take off after him because I figure he must know where he’s going, right? After a couple steps, I run into a wall. No Mr. Hayes. I am not picking up on this quickly. My guide is gone but I hear, “be quiet” off to my left and attempt to make my way toward it. Wary of running into another wall, I arrive just in time to feel a slight breeze from Mr. Hayes as he moves through an opening. I just manage to slip in behind him as the door slides down from above, nearly catching me in the movement. I find out later that the door is opened by lifting it from a small notch near the floor. How Mr. Hayes found it, he isn’t telling. It is about now that I realize I am in some kind of carnival-type ninja house: a maze. I know it seems like I catch on slowly, but in my own defense, only about 7 seconds have passed since entering this nightmare. It occurs to me that if I lose Mr. Hayes, I might very well be lost in here for the rest of my life – part of a bad Stephen King novel. My concern is real enough that I decide to actually keep my hands on him at all times. It is still utterly black inside.
The whole experience has a dizzying effect. The ancient ninja would sometimes build secret hiding places and escape routes into their homes in case of invasion. I am experiencing first-hand how formidable that can be. Even with my hands on him at all times, I am having considerable difficulty keeping up with my teacher. At one place, we need to lay flat on the floor and roll through a hinged board at the bottom of the wall. The doors are all rigged in some odd way. Passageways are trapped. Move too fast and your head or shin may crack into some obstacle. And yet, Mr. Hayes is racing through this with reckless abandon. I wish to note that, after his initial admonishments about keeping up and being quiet, he has offered no direction or help. No, “Hey, John, watch out for this.” No, “I am turning right here and if you go left you will die.” None of that. Perhaps he felt that having my hands on him the whole time was enough assistance. I don’t know.
At long last, I follow him through an invisible door into blinding, but most welcome, sunlight. He grins wickedly at me and goes off to do something else. I decide not to follow.
what goes unnoticed
Posted By Administrator on June 15, 2009
I wonder sometimes how much I miss. What goes unnoticed? Everyone sees the world in their own unique way and yet we all seem to believe that we are seeing it correctly. I make countless decisions every day, some are about what I am going to do or where I am going to go, but others are judgments. “This is right and that is wrong.” “That person is successful and that one is not.” How easily I wield this power to state the true nature of things. As I apply such a label to a person, thing or event, I might even congratulate myself for being more aware and perceptive than the average person.
Now all of this is based on the past. I have knowledge and memory (sometimes). It is this knowledge from the past that tells me not to put my hand into an open flame or walk in front of a moving bus. So, certainly, we need this information to survive on a day-to-day basis. Without it I would not know where I work or how to drive or that someone was getting ready to punch me. So I probably do not want to get rid of information that tells me how the world operates. I’m not sure I could if I tried.
I wonder to myself if I might find a way to be less attached to some of that information, some of those judgments. After all, if I get too attached to the punch I know is coming, I might get tackled. I remind myself that whenever I decide that something is one way, I am usually prevented from seeing it in any other way. How often do I miss opportunities to experience something as it really is, or for what potential it might have, because I have placed a label on it? Am I sometimes making judgments about things that do not serve me?
I was driving on a very busy urban street, getting ready to turn right at a light when the vehicle in front of me stopped suddenly to avoid a pedestrian. As our light turned red, the other driver completed his turn but my car was left in the middle of the crosswalk, a vehicle behind me preventing me from backing up. No big deal. A few moments later, a gentleman who was crossing the street in front of me was obviously quite upset with me because MY car was in the middle of HIS crosswalk. All of his language, vocal and body, spoke of his incredulity and disappointment in my so rudely and deliberately stop my car in the crosswalk. His frustration stayed manifest even as he completed his crossing, still eyeing me in a manner meant to assure me I would surely be condemned to eternal damnation for my inconsiderate behavior. Oddly enough, this did not concern or upset me. But, I suddenly realized that, with just a very brief snapshot, this man had arrived at conclusions he was absolutely sure of. He knew he was right. And the whole thing struck me in a way that was epiphanic. What if I can convince myself that I do not always need to come to conclusions – that I can leave some things alone without limiting them by trying to define them.
Demos and Promotions – May 09
Posted By heatherk on May 30, 2009
Another wonderful evening for Demos and Promotions at the Portland Quest Center. If you were there and captured a great moment, email it to heatherk@questmartialarts.com.
