The sword as an art easily fits a Taoist paradigm, articulated through the kôan of a Chinese master, who said that before he ever studied Ch'an, he always thought that mountains were just mountains. Then when he began studying, he found that mountains were not mountains (a typical Taoist paradox). After long study, he stopped worrying about this and mountains went back to being mountains again. This easily describes the stages of reaching enlightenment through meditation, but it can also describe the stages of learning an art or skill, not just something like the sword, but even very humble skills.
For instance, learning to drive an automobile with a clutch, which cannot be done without some instruction, actually involves a very simple rule: (1) step on the clutch, (2) put the engine in gear, and (3) slowly step on the gas pedal and the release the clutch at the same time. This simple procedure always turns out to be very difficult to effect. It takes, not more instruction, but just constant practice. Eventually, it becomes easy, smooth, and natural, and the driver simply forgets about it, doing it automatically, which is good, since a driver needs to look where he is going. Learning the use of a sword has an added aspect that a completely ignorant person can still pick up a sword and, in general, know what to do with it. Such a person can even be dangerous, since in a fight he will be desperate and there is no telling what they might do. Someone who receives instruction, however, is endangered by their own concentration on the techniques they are learning. They may even be a worse swordsman than the ignorant person, until the techniques become natural and automatic. This is easily explained by the circumstance that ignorance is much more like "not-doing" than is the "doing," effort, and trying of the stage of instruction.
I first heard of this as a Bruce Lee quote from my taekwondo master, but I can't check the source. Instead of mountains, he was talking about punches.
"Just because you think you understand something, doesn’t mean you do. More likely, your perceptions have more to do with you than they do with the world outside of you."
This is a very good passage, and an interesting point. However, I think the second paragraph misses the deeper meaning of the phrase, "Mountains are not mountains," which is worth acknowledging.
In the most literal terms, we begin our journey assuming mountains are just a feature of the environment. Then, as we understand their importance in swordsmanship, we see that they are more than mountains, but also a representation of internal concepts. As we progress down the path, we realize that, in fact, that's all they ever were, and again are just mountains, no more, no less.
Everyone has an idea of motorcycling. As you begin to ride yourself, you realize that there is much more going on than you realized. As you master it, you realize that your entire previous conception of motorcycling was trite and never valid in the first place.
I think this perception is the more important point than the curve of how your skills progress. And the more important practical lesson is humility. Just because you think you understand something, doesn't mean you do. More likely, your perceptions have more to do with you than they do with the world outside of you.
One could even say, nothing else is possible, and any other perception is trite and was never valid in the first place.
I updated My Time/Habit/Life Tracking about three weeks ago. In it, I added a "Challenges" section:
——————————————- CHALLENGES: Did I start the day in my planner instead of online? Did I only check email when I was ready to write back immediately? Did I clear my active to do list before any screwing around? Did I avoid getting into arguments with idiots online? Did I only check a site once, then done with it? Did I prioritize books/good learning instead of mindless surfing? Did I avoid sugary food? ——————————————-
Note one in particular - "Did I avoid getting into arguments with idiots online?"
This can be hard to do if you're on a discussion site. But now, I think I've got a rule that covers when to discuss and get into it with people, and when not to.
The rule - no arguing with peasants.
I just finished Darren Hardy's The Compound Effect, and enjoyed it much more than I suspected. At first, I thought this would be another self-help book that suggested a mystical path to success involving the law of attraction, fairy gumdrops, and a "1 time offer" for a $299 e-course. It wasn't.
I thought Hardy's anecdotes would be fluffy and vague, limited by his own experiences, but instead I found the opposite. As I read Hardy's examples many other came to mind, his stories provided a link to mine.
The book has four main areas.
And the main point is this: