My Time with the Yamabushi - PART II
I am standing in Tsuruoka, in the Shoai region of Japan, reflecting on my journey so far and wondering what awaits me in the coming days.
It’s an unusual place to find a Leadership, Executive and Business Coach from Ireland; in the middle of Japan en route to meet the Yamabushi, the ancient mountain-dwelling practitioners who practice shugendô and Buddhism and heightened connection with nature, ‘the men who sleep in the Mountain’. But that I’ve made it here isn’t beyond my belief. Many years ago, I realised that anything I wanted or desired was achievable, it simply required focus and a desire not to be sidetracked. Few are lucky enough to ever realise that this is truly possible.
As a child, my father always told me that I could do anything I wanted in life, constantly reiterating this dictum as he brought me up. Alas, the irony of his perceived wisdom is never lost on me; he never took this advice himself. He lingered in a career and a lifestyle that led him down a path which saw him heavily medicated, hospitalised, suicidal, and eventually subjected to electric shock treatment. This was the 80’s and sadly standard practice.
The words of his advice thus always percolate deep into my soul, because they are the words of a man incapable of implementing them himself. Yet this fact has never in any way lessened the universal wisdom contained within them, or his own belief in their truth — these were words never meant for him to follow. He carried them especially for me, to guide me on my own journey. He was always destined for another path. From my early teenage years to the current moment, I have often sat with those words, “you can achieve anything you put your mind to", and then executed. As if they were the words of a spell, I’ve achieved everything I have put my mind to.
As I am writing in 2019, my father is still alive, he is eighty-four and in a care home for those with dementia (there are extensive studies showing the correlation between dementia, depression, anxiety, and stress). There have been a few moments over these past few years when I was once again met by the old wise lantern, a smile and a wise word from my dad, but then he would quickly slide back into the purgatory that binds those who have died a hundred mental deaths, but their physical form refuses to let go of this world.
As a young man, I crafted a narrative around self determination, drive and wonderment with what the world could offer. I moved to London and broke free from the shackles of my time in Ireland, with one key exception — “you can achieve anything you put your mind to” would always stay with me.
I hold no ill feeling towards my parents nor my upbringing. I am hugely thankful in respect to the outcome. On the contrary, it never fails to amaze me how similar my story is to the stories of those with whom I work. Determined, driven people (type A personalities) almost always tend to have a strong narrative, a motivation, something they too were leaving behind, something they were constantly looking over their shoulder to avoid. In the rearview mirror there often appeared to be this fear, the motivator, the reason to push harder and faster forward. Whereas, happy healthy homes generally produce happy healthy humans, who contribute to so much of what society needs. As a parent, I am trying to craft this narrative for my son. However, when there has been an emotional, physical or sexual dysfunction in one's childhood, then an alternate being tends to be created. One of life’s proverbial runners, always sensing danger quicker than most and feeling that they either strive, evolve, or die. Often, not exposed to the same academic opportunities, often considered an outlier, at times dismissed.
So many of these souls never make it through their teens, twenties, thirties, or forties. Many are lost to suicide or misadventure. Yet here I am, standing in Japan, feeling deeply connected to myself, incredibly proud of my journey and profoundly in love with life and every next breath that connects me with it.
Before I would meet with the Yamabushi I had two days to experience the beautiful countryside in Shonai, staying at the Shonai Hotel Suiden Terrasse. This hotel is built over a rice field and is surrounded by beautiful countryside and mountains. For a plant based foodie, Japan is not the simplest place to find a meal. Surprising, as Zen Buddhists are vegetarian. However, most Japanese are drawn to the mysticism and superstition of Buddhisim, but far fewer are drawn to the practice, and only a tiny minority to that of Zen Buddhusm. Many do not realise that Zen Buddhism comes from China and only arrived in Japan in the 12th century. I had hoped that my dining options would increase in this beautiful farming area of Japan, but alas, no. Thankfully, fasting had become a cornerstone of my practice in the weeks leading up to Japan, so food was only needed within a short window, and to fulfil a specific biological need, rather than for enjoyment of the culinary delights.
This part of Japan was one of the last stands of the Shogun dynasty. Samurai tradition runs deep within the culture, and the Yamabushi and Samurai traditions remain within local practice. One evening, I had dinner at one of the very few organic farms in Japan, whose owner originated from a Samurai and farming background. Now into his late sixties, he said he no longer practices the physical regime of the Samurai, but the mental tenacity helped him survive the harshness of life and gave him the strength to move from non-organic farming to organic. This decision went very much against the local community (Japan has some of the lowest levels of organic farming in the developed world) and the views of many of his friends.
His story awakened within me a remembrance, an echo of my father’s life advice. The ability to pursue that what you feel is right, rather than being unduly influenced by others will always bring potential conflict, yet the most challenging fights in life are always internal, the dialogue only we battle. But when we can move to quieten that noise and rest within the intention to listen to our instincts, we begin to notice a significant shift. This shift in conscientiousness is not immediate, it takes time, contemplation, and a willingness to invest into a daily meditation practice.
We discussed the mindset and his beliefs over dinner. The farmer said he would always be a student of the mind and the Samurai, the learning never stops. He reminded me of the need to sit with the internal storms of the mind, watch the weather fronts pass, knowing they will, but being happy to sit through the wind and rain.
After two days of biking and hiking to explore the countryside, it was time to meet with the Yamabushi. I returned to Tsuruoka train station. Where I was met by one of the Yamabushi, a commercial guide and two other men. We had all been asked to refrain from communication and the exchange of personal details (including names). This idea defies our normal sense of human interaction and presents as a deeply uncomfortable interaction and time together in those first few hours.
Another four men arrive and our team is complete. We are advised that our formal training will start tomorrow, but today we will be taken to a Zen Buddhist temple to work with the monks. This idea is to help us disconnect and deepen our meditation practices, but also to show us the isolation and the simplicity of the world of a novice monk. I remember how last year, I read Eat Sleep Sit, which gave me an extraordinary insight into this world. To now be working in a temple I had once been reading about was such an honour. Everything was slowing down.
We practiced deep open eye meditation, prayer, and silence. We ate slowly and mindfully. Each meal was an offering, it was a connection to ourselves and to nature. Every element of the food preparation, right down to the positioning of the food and chopsticks, was mindful.
Our time with the Zen Buddhist monks was more challenging for some than for others. You had to be comfortable within a very slow, very methodical and very demanding regime. Comfort on your knees, comfort in lotus position and comfort with yourself were key skills going into this temple.
We then moved onto practicing calligraphy. Once more, a somber and methodical hand along with a mind that could take focus on one thing, would lead to a more positive outcome in calligraphy class, and for the greater mindful purpose the calligraphy class was preparing us for. I could hear a few frustrated grunts within the classroom, I was interested to note that others suffered from a little anger at moments. If the hand and mind are not flowing as one, the calligraphy ends up clumsy. Is this result not a true reflection of life when the mind and body are no longer aligned? All that I have learned and all that I teach is that discomfort and unease will always arrive, but we can prepare for its visit.
As a leading Mindset and Mindfulness Coach, I teach my students that continued practice in meditation allows them to inflate their own cushioned protection against the tougher parts of life. Each meditation session adds more air to this proverbial inflatable crash-helmet. Once the helmet continues to receive a daily air supply, it can protect the wearer from the blunt force of life. Life will still deliver devastating blows to the head when things go wrong, however ‘non-wearers’ are often struck harder. Those who have practiced, those who are wearing the inflatable crash-helmet, still feel the blow, but it is now 5 inches from the head, they feel a lesser impact, and most importantly, they also do not feel the need to immediately react. The helmet lessens the impact and allows the wearer to pause between the stimulation and their subsequent reaction. Applying my crash helmet analogy here and I can see that while I may not be the most graceful calligrapher, I can enjoy it, laugh at my mistakes and take pleasure in the moment.
We spent that entire day at the temple. The monks then took our calligraphy and blessed and sealed it in an incredibly beautiful sacred ceremony. This was a deeply profound day. Silence began and most of our interactions from then were in our minds.
Tomorrow would be our first day in Master Training with the Yamabushi.
Eat Sleep Sit : My Year at Japan's Most Rigorous Zen Temple. Author Kaoru Nonomura.