The warrior in society today.

[Shadow]

The question was asked of someone just what it is that makes him feel he is a warrior.  Since the term is bantered around fairly freely these days I thought it might be a good topic for discussion.

My idea of the warrior is someone who is a member of the community who does just about any job anyone else does when it comes to mundanely putting food on the table or securing shelter.  He doesn't stand all the time holding a weapon like a guard at the White House.  He doesn't walk around carrying a sword (or even a gun these days) most of the time.  In most circumstances he can't be distinguished from those around him by his clothes or how he makes his living or the hobbies he chooses to partake in.

What does set him apart is his demeanor.  When you meet a warrior you usually have no doubt that he is willing to do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of his family and community, and if you have the chance to see him in action you will have no doubt at all.  You know that this person will put his life on the line in that cause.  He doesn't need to flaunt his power, indeed he may not have great stature or great physical strength.

The Celtic kings of old certainly were warriors.  They are what we think of when we think of the archetypical warrior.  However, Ghandi, an unassuming little man, was certainly a great warrior and was willing to give everything, including his life (and indeed he did) in his pursuit to free his people from oppression.

The warrior chooses his weapons very carefully.  At Massada the Jews who were besieged chose to use the only weapon they had to take the Roman's impending victory from them.  Ghandi didn't believe in using violence to achieve his ends.  He said that he would die for his cause but he would not kill for it.  He did, however, use active resistance to great effect, moving his 350 million followers to use non-violent civil disobedience to overthrow British rule.

So, to me the warrior is a person who does what is needed, whether his weapons are steel or simply an indominitable spirit.  He may not be the spiritual heart of the community but he is its backbone.

There is a sacrificial component involved.  It is on the shoulders of the warrior that the rest of us rise above the dangers that would threaten our lives.  It is the warrior, although we often forget this, who is responsible for us being able to sleep peacefully in our beds at night knowing that someone else is watching over us.  Usually the warrior does all of this without any thanks or other acknowledgement.  In fact, he is often shunned by the people he protects.  So often we choose not to acknowledge the soldiers, police officers, social activists, and others who do what they do out of duty and not for the meager praise they get.

There are warriors all around us.  The next time you see an open circle being heckled and the local red necks start getting really ugly you'll know the warriors in the group, they are the ones who will step forward and attempt to calm the situation and they are the ones who will risk being hit with a beer bottle or a rock while the mothers slip away to safety with the children.

So the next time someone openly claims the title of warrior don't be afraid to ask what it is that gives him or her the right to make such a claim.  In my experience most true warriors don't seek aggrandizement for their role as protectors in the community.

[RedRonin]

A long-winded definition........

The dojo was filling with visitors, myself included, who had come for an Aikido seminar back in the early 80's.  I was among those jostling for a space to take my shoes off out at the entrance.  A young woman from Japan was next to me and bumped me as she was balancing on one foot, trying to pull her boot off the other.  We introduced ourselves, and she asked if I'd been to this dojo before.  I had, and so she asked me "Do they have a restroom?"

"Okawaya" I said.  She laughed, then corrected what was my outdated Japanese.  Okawaya was the term that more accurately described an outhouse.  I nodded, then led her back out the door into the bitter cold morning, pointing to the bottom of the hill to a grove of oaks were one could just make out the shape of the dojo facilities.

"When I said okawaya, I meant okawaya."

Turns out she was the wife of the guest instructor, but that's another story for a later day......

The reason a bunch of us were drawn to the coutryside dojo that December weekend was to take advantage of the opportunity to learn from one of the seniormost non-Japanese aikido sensei in the US.  A fifth dan with more than two decades of training, living in Japan, he was one of the most expert teachers most of us had, or would, ever practice with.  He was fluent in Japanese and had a degree in Japanese philosophy.  His insights and comments about the Ways were invaluable.  He called the class to order and lead us into what we all thought would be a short warm-up session.  An hour later we were still at it.  The sensei showed us breakfall exercises that had even the advanced practioners in the class stumbling awkwardly.  After that, it was on to basics.  The simplest movements of aikido he broke down and corrected and demonstrated for us.  By the time we were beginning the fundamental techniques we were all sweating, in spite of the cold that seeped in around the windows and door of the dojo.

The sensei motioned to me to come up and take falls for him as he demonstrated a throw he wanted us to work on.  We bowed, stood, and I grabbed the wrist that he offered.  Coming to grips with a teacher of such high skill is almost always a special experience.  In aikido, it feels like an electric shock has seized your body.  As I grabbed, he shifted, his body seeming to roll away from me, and I was suddenly airborne.  To be tossed by someone of this level is like being caught in a force that wraps you up and moves you almost of it's own will.  He was using only a fraction of his power as he led my attack away from him, mastering the swirl of energy, and I was up, then down, on my ass.  I jumped up, grabbed again ( I wasn't too bright at that age) and went through the same arc, landing on the other side of the mat.  Back and forth I went, up and down, while he talked, noting the apects of the technique he thought we needed work with.  My body felt weightless, and it was like he was cradling me, guiding me in my falls, keeping me under control from the moment I began my attack until I was back on the mat yet again.  Taking falls from someone like this is sometimes a bit frightening, but always worthwhile and even enlightening at times.

At the end of the day's training, the sensei went to the back of the dojo where his wife was sitting, watching their toddler play on the corner of the mat.  He scooped the boy up and caught of whiff of that aroma known all to well by all parents.  "You need a diaper change."

And that's what sensei did.

He found a place on the floor not occupied by students still practicing or talking.  Still in his training uniform and hakama, he put the boy down, took off the dirty diaper, and cleaned up his backside.  Then, he outfitted his son with a clean, fresh diaper.

It wasn't a big gesture.  Not nearly so dramatic as some of the spectacular throws he had shown us during the training.  It was certainly not a display of awe-inspiring skill.  Yet watching this sensei with his child, his gentleness, the matter-of-fact way he met the chores of fatherhood exactly as he had met the responsibilities of a senior teacher, I think I had a glimpse of what the martial Ways were all about.  Strength and compassion.  Power expressed through caring.  The warrior as defined by his relationships with others, his love and his deep humanity.

You can learn a lot in such a seminar, but every once in a while you can also get a bonus in the oddest of ways... in the changing of a dirty diaper, for instance.



 Katachi tadashi kareba kage naoshi