This is the one connecting road I see between cities, mountains, islands.
Posts have been infrequent this month. That does not mean there is nothing to talk about. Rather, it’s quite the opposite. Too many things to talk about render me frozen amid sparse breaks from the movement. The changes are too fast. At the moment of impact, I could potentially imbellish curious minds, but the passing of mere moments already begin the rotting process.
Spring winds change the clouds so much in a single day, I can’t remember the blue sky under such grey broodings.
Like going to kyudo, I can never predict what kind of practice it will be. False anticipations only make the results more the strange.
A quality form, base, skeleton, is important.
A room’s shape, simple and strong. Bland is a quality to build from. Various furnitures can define spaces, pictures can direct moods, plants can breathe. Dirt can accumulate inside, clothes can litter floors. But those walls, that shape, comes before and lasts beyond it all.
In kyudo, aikido, and tai chi bodies are placed into desirable positions in order to maximize all abilities. From those correct positions, various techniques grow out for myriad purposes.
I can see these things, like a magazine. I flip through the pages and let my interest guide eyes to something of an undefined “quality.”
But what about the mind? What is the shape of our mind? How is it structured? What is it designed to do? How can we adjust these settings?
It’s like trying to see the back of your head.
All you need is a couple mirrors, or a camera.
So, I guess we can just move along and not care about such matters.
Or we can use some tools to figure it out.
The mind, its use and un-use. This is what I’ve been thinking about lately. How does that base structure of my mind affect my actions and the world I move in.
It’s not static.
It’s fluid and changing. We cannot stop to rearrange. We cannot accurately judge what’s good and bad. We move in directions, falling, floating, swimming, gliding. In that shifting moment we move ourselves in ways beyond what we can conceive.
Like James Bond.
Quality. That single word can be magic. A compass amid worlds of painful complexities. Quality is a shape we color in with the instruments of our decisions.
For me, practicing budo is how I consciously affect my mind. Budo is quality. But it’s not the only thing. Budo is a shell, and my guts are the decisions I make.
I don’t know. Nobody knows. Some moments I’m peacefully unaware. Other times I’m trying to figure out how to get out.
Sometimes, it all feels just right.
That is quality.
(picture above found at http://www.photographycorner.com/galleries/showphoto.php/photo/25216)