Raion Teaches Humility Ch. 02

Control is picked out of chaos with determination, through struggle and most of all from studious application. Most humans never experience real chaos, the small disturbances in their existence being no more than ripples upon an otherwise mirror like pond. To understand chaos you must feel emptiness, to feel empty you must allow yourself to be nothing. Raion had witnessed utter devastation, had seen life and death become a game of chance, decreed by the hands of fate alone. He had been the hand of destruction, had obliterated ally and foe alike with the careless abandon of the ronin rampaging after a battle. When He became a killer He lost His virtue, threw away the one gift that kept man above the beast, humanity. Survival was the warriors only true creed, honor was an expensive and deadly companion. Certainly He had now willingly put aside His sword, dulled the edge to make it as harmless as a walking cane, yet no amount of restitution could erase the memories that strengthened with time rather than dissipated. He grasped control gladly, held it firm in His hands and wavered not one tremor from the statue He wished to become. Yet chaos prevailed around Him with the tenacity of a cockroach.

Miyamoto had hidden in a cave, shunning man for fear that His control would crumble at an insult. Unable to put aside the marshal force that was his destiny he set about revisiting every skirmish, every battle with the strokes of his calligraphy brush. He turned his sword upon the enemy called ignorance and dissected it till an understandable form emerged. Raion was no Miyamoto.

Doubt is a slow poison. Insidiously it seeps through the veins, gathers in the heart blocking valve and artery till finally choking all hope from the soul. Raion had treated this springtime as a new beginning, a chance to finally complete the myriad of ideas and plans that had been abandoned as utterly as He had been. It had taken three years for Him to reach some form of peace, month after month of slow separation from the void, a retreat caused by nothing more than His untimely and unexpected continuation. Yet even in peace the echo of loneliness reverberated around His consciousness unendingly. He was at best a communicator, on average a teacher and at worst a principle. He finally stood alone in His belief that there was no life without total commitment and the realization of His singular existence condemned Him to purgatory.

Distance is measurable in many ways. Two places on a map with a scale, two points on a sheet of paper with a ruler, but how does one measure the distance between two people? Raion felt Sakura move away steadily over the days, measured that movement in the only way He could, with the growing lonely erratic beating of His heart. Raion had little real concept of time. For Him days easily became weeks, weeks months and months years. He spent as much of His life on each interest as He saw fit. If a sentence took a moment to write He was content, if it took a week He was equally happy. Some sentences take a lifetime to finish and He had bowed to that simple truth many year before.

The days passed silently and He waited patiently, the evenings arrived and He let go another wasted day, laughed at His discomfort and secretly shriveled under the shame of failure, yet even that was not the worst. The worst was He felt unnecessary, forgotten by the only one who mattered to Him one jot, whom avowed some value in Him and she could or would not sense His pain. Honor decrees one cannot question that which goes unsaid, to do so is to break the sanctity of an individual's right to privacy and self-determination. That is the ethical approach and Raion accepted the fact without question Acceptance was easy, surviving the turmoil disproportionally more problematic. Life had become unbearable and yet He was obliged to finish the journey as it had been ordained.

Death poems had always seemed so meaningless. Perhaps it was the strange desire to script a thing of beauty to be read before such an act of ugliness. Raion had no false conception of seppuku. He had long discarded the romantic view that in some way it allowed the perpetrator some version of release from the momentous nature of their shame. Rather He had settled on the simple Buddhist teaching that as life had no meaning then its end had no meaning. The moment of release was preordained and if the elements contrived to accept His sacrifice then so be it. He had faced death many times before and survived miraculously, it had not been His time. There is also the matter of consequences and it was to this end He turned the brush rather than to a pretty but pointless clever haiku.

"My methods of teaching are quite simple. I believe that the way to enable an individual's growth and development is to use patience, care and understanding. Setting tasks and goals is important but they will be of two distinct kinds. Firstly the suggestion. A formulation of subtle ideas that inspire the pupil to search for the best way to deal with a situation and accomplish their desired result. The second would be a request, direct, with measurable consequences."

Raion stood and stretched. The act of calligraphy was relaxing to the mind but the necessity of careful control over the brush meant the spring of tension within His core could often wind to almost overload. It was this dichotomy of peace and tension that created the balance that was so intriguing always. Ying and yang, movement and stillness, all opposites in balance created the wholeness of living. The day was drawing on and the light filtering through the leaves had a magical quality only dusk created. He pondered if this moment was a reflection of all transitions, from light to dark, from ignorance to enlightenment, from life to death. As He lit the lanterns surrounding His work station He breathed deeply, enjoyed the faint scent of the cherry blossom drifting from the trees close to the Shrine. It had been several days since He had last rung the bell, bowed His head and clapped twice. Perhaps tomorrow would be a good day to show His respect, perhaps tomorrow His heart would feel less heavy and the short walk through the village less daunting. He had taken that path so often alone before and had been content. Somehow the walk seemed so much further now that it would be unaccompanied by the sound of her shuffling geta following demurely behind.

"Modern living requires basic skills, an ability to reason, react and understand. In other words communicate efficiently, grasping the needs of the moment and using previous experience to help guide. There are some actions and needs that are by nature paramount, those involving well being and safety being good examples. These require practiced personal skills, memory, aforethought, planning and follow through. These fall under the category of requests. Other actions are less vital but enhance existence, these would be categorized as suggestions.

The question of success and failure, praise or discipline always come to haunt the liberal. However there is no failure in life except death, a truth. There is no greater punishment in life than the inability to do ones best, another truth. Any action is deserving of praise as long as it continues the climb upwards. Even failure attains congratulations for an effort well taken, even if miscalculated."

Raion paused momentarily the brush held firmly between His thumb and first finger and allowed His breathing to measure time. Sometimes when she was in the room He felt His breathe slow almost to nothing as the calmness of her spilled into His soul. He felt a tear well in His eye and He refused to allow it to be more than a glint knowing that once started the flood would fall onto rice paper and ink alike and all would be ruined. He cried often, about so many things, past events that shamed Him, emotions that could only be allowed to escape secretly in private moments, echoes of sadness that seemed to hang like phantoms all around Him and also now significantly in her presence. Damnation was there nothing that was real without the scent of her enveloping Him. Jaw set He cleared the confusions misting His thoughts and continued.

"Consequences of failings should fall squarely on the shoulders of the teacher. Whether a pupil is unsuccessful through incompetence, lack of understanding, or even selfishness and laziness all indicate the teacher had not supplied the correct tools to build the right action and result.

There are no rules to this method. Rules are constrictive, bind the pupil in codex that erase free thinking, pre-active and proactive responses and ignore the very basis of all human qualities, an individual and unique ability to be cognitive.

It might be far easier to teach a creature to jump through a hoop with the promise of treat or threat of stick. However we seem to have reached a happy point in our civilizations development when such archaic circus training is considered grotesquely inappropriate. Why would we use such socially proscribed methods on our own species? I have concluded the answer and I have a hope that any thinking individual would concur. Self, just self."

Truth can be a beacon of light. It can also be a hammer to crush in a man's dreams. Enlightenment was yet another reincarnation away from Him still and whatever He accomplished He knew was drawn back into the blackness by His own desires. Time was He understood a selfish thought and could discard it easily. He of all people recognized that as we age we cover our own self-interest with a fine disguising coat of delusion. Every act is self-orientated in some way, even if only as a means to gain pleasure or justification. Charity would never exist if it really pained, man was at heart always guilty of placing himself first and could not hope to shed those leopard spots unless a saint or imbecile.

"The consequence of my method is the creation of a non-dependent. An individual able to function at the highest level emotionally and intellectually without need of assistance. Such is the price of success. If we wish our charge real empowerment we must accept our own redundancy. But when the dove soars its beauty and grace far outweigh selfish desires."

Man is made up of four elements, the physical, the ethical, the spiritual and the intellectual, oft metamorphosed as earth, fire, air and water. Raion accepted His physical self as being of little value or attraction, humility is seldom palatable but necessary never the less.

Spirituality is so changeable as to be personal and beyond any individuals own understanding let alone another, if your beliefs do not change momentarily then you are following creed rather than construct. Raion expected no one to understand His interwoven belief system simply because they were a compote of ever developing understanding without written formulation. He valued Buddhism for its harmony and love of life, but as a warrior found its total absorption impossible. He followed Shinto as far as possible, had great respect for the natural forces and even deeper acknowledgement of His ancestors but found ritual unattractive, almost irksome. Christianity He found perplexing, its impossible homogony of ever shifting love and hatred too slippery to grasp written as it was on waxed paper.

Ethics are a result of experience but guided by inner light. Principles are necessary to exist and are defined by each action and every reaction. These do not change but rather become more clearly sculpted and easier to follow. The right action was always clear and Raion attempted always do the right if possible. Even understanding that others would not follow an ethical path He refused to change His actions or deviate from simple truth. Example is all.

Intellect is the rogue element. It can exist in total isolation and unrestricted by the other three. It has no physical limits, no spiritual preconceptions and no ethical boundaries.

Raion accepted His physical limitations, His spiritual dichotomy and His ethical reticence. He found the acceptance of intellectual bias or self-interest impossible, rather accepting neutrality even as dangerous, even suicidal, His posture might be. He refused to use intellect to further personal goals above another's, never used its power or verbiage to change a decision in His favor and rather chose the course of disengagement, much against human nature. To impose is to destroy balance, eventually causing collapse of one half, then the whole.

Raion stepped from His bath and accepted the warm thick towel chouko wrapped around His shoulders. He had grown accustomed to this ritual, her early evening arrival, the drawing of the water, His almost ceremonial disrobement and cleansing. He felt no particular joy in it, it was a necessity to keep the body clean and free of bacteria. That the geisha chose to serve as a self-appointed attendant was her journey not His and caused no negative ripple in the pool of His existence.

The reflection from the mirror told so many stories. There written in line and verse was the sum of His experience. The once livid scars had faded, vague reminders now of trials but each fitted to His contour like a well-placed and carefully inked tattoo adding rather than detracting. Chouko gently padded away the moisture from His skin, her practiced hands exerting just enough pressure to supplement the relaxing effects of the hot water.

"Sit Daimyo please."

Like an obedient Shisa He complied, knowing it pleased her, feeling no necessity to exert authority when none was appropriate.

"You must eat more, You become a bag of bones before my eyes."

He smiled. Strange the way her words were chiding yet fearful. The taste of loss was somehow wrapped in her phrasing.

"My belly still holds an obi down comfortably chouko. I would no miss a week of meals I have grown so comfortable."

She laughed, as geisha often laugh, with practiced shyness and modesty. Sometimes He craved the belly laughs that had punctuated life when He was younger and wilder, still tasting everything and avoiding nothing.

"You are expected to stand a more rotund figure now Daimyo."

"There is no need to be so formal chouko. I was named Raion by My peers and I am proud of that name."

Raion was named Toreba at birth. It was an unusual name, garnered by His parents from a book of western names and approximated into Japanese for ease of pronunciation. He had liked the name, worn it happily till He met another toreba at age seven. This toreba was a boastful ignorant savage who gave the name an aura He could not shake. So He became Raion, His schoolboy nickname anyway and from that day forward never answered to the other unless really necessary, with one exception.

"You shivered Raion, are you catching a chill?"

Chouko wrapped the towel tight around His frame, but still He shivered, the chill was in His heart and would not be warmed by material substance.

"I am well enough chouko. You fuss like a mama-san."

Even Raion had to laugh at His words. For mama-san she was.

"It is good to hear you laugh again Raion."

Chouko was concerned. The Daimyo had the look of death around Him and she knew the pride that made Him strong and the shame that could take Him too easily to the void. Men no longer felt as He felt, were touched by traditions that made failure of any form beyond acceptance.

"Please Raion give time. The truth of all will show itself. You have nothing to feel blame for."

Raion stood abruptly and throwing the towel purposely into the bath made towards the dressing room.

"Raion forgive me, I did not intend to anger you."

Raion stopped and turning gave chouko the kindest saddest smile she had ever seen.

"I have a purpose chouko. It is to enable. I will complete this journey whatever the needed cost. I made a promise. I am an honorable Man. Consequence falls upon the Sensei, whatever the cause of failure, I am prepared to turn such failure to a success if only by sacrifice."

He turned to continue to the dressing room then almost as an afterthought spoke again.

"You have served Me well, I am thankful for the honor you have bestowed on Me. I hope I did not use you too badly."