Wednesday, January 21, 2015

NIWA: the way of the garden



NIWA: the way of the garden[1]

Vern Borgen

It is at this point that we come to one of the basic paradoxes of Zen thought: Only through form can we realize emptiness.[2]

I am a gardener. I am also a martial artist. For me the garden is as much a path as are the martial arts. [I study the way of Kano Shihan (Judo). I also have been strongly influenced by the teachings of Ueshiba O-sensei.]

In retrospect it was probably an experience that occurred in a garden that influenced me to pursue martial arts training.

It was 1977. I had been in Japan for 5 years and a friend and I were taking a whirlwind tour of Japanese architecture and gardens before I returned to the United States.

We had been in the Kyoto/Nara area for a few days and spent the day on the outskirts of Kyoto in the vicinity of the famous rock garden, Ryoanji.

We had just viewed Ryoanji. It was wonderful, but just like every other place we had been crowded with tourists. We set out to find the road less traveled… and as they say, Buddha provides.

The garden we found was not peculiar in any way. It was rectangular in shape, about 60 feet wide by 200 feet in length. The garden sloped gently down from the entrance.

From the entrance the view of the lower end of the garden was obscured by trees and shrubs. At the top of the garden the path was flanked on either side by small patches of raked gravel carefully enclosed with a small green hedge. Here low stones were carefully place, each grouping with a sign board and a name.

It was pretty cool!

Following the path, the garden becomes increasingly more naturalistic, there is a dry stream bed on the left.

BIG ROCKS

As the path reaches the lower end of the garden it takes a sharp bend to the left.  The view is skillfully manipulated, so as we round the bend we are almost surprised by a spectacular pond with large, colorful Koi swimming lazily among water lilies and cattails.

Koi jump and sound of water…

I think that it is important here to understand that these gardens were designed by Zen monks to aid their meditation. Stones and trees are precisely placed with the teasing charm of incompleteness, to capture the mind ready for an awakening experience.

My mind was ready that day; the effect of the garden was overwhelming. I was mentally staggered. There was not a single thought in my mind for what seemed a very long time but I had no concept of time. I felt like I had been there forever. I felt a part of that place. It was as comfortable as home.

My Japanese friend just laughed and nodded approvingly.

The garden designer had accomplished what he had intended, I had been led into a direct experience with the garden.

I would suspect that the casual observer would not be caught in this manner. I was rather like a ripe fruit, ready to fall from the tree. I had been studying the Japanese language and immersing myself in the culture since arriving in Japan. I had made a study of Japanese gardens and architecture.

The experience in the garden was not much different from one I had 2 years later in the dojo.  We were doing randori, a woman who had a black belt in karate was attacking. It was a punch to the stomach; my response involved a circular dissipation (probably kotegaeshi) and then a projection to a rolling fall. As she rolled her long hair swept the floor and I stepped on it! She still had momentum; my other foot was in the air… she was going to lose hair!

And then somehow I picked up my foot… and she rolled to safety.

For a brief space in time it seemed that I had all the time in the world, there was no thought process. I was in the moment and acted without hesitation.

It was that same odd feeling that I had experienced in the garden a year before. The young lady shared the awakening experience. I remember being excited, while she was perplexed and cautious.

A lot of time has passed. I have been teaching Judo for 15 years and gardening for a bit longer. I am still learning.

There is much technical literature to be found on Japanese gardening, however less information is available on the philosophy of gardening.

Gardening is a very spiritual art, much akin to kyudo and practiced much the same as any martial art. You start! And as the years pass you learn.

Keep in mind that a garden doesn’t require a large space or a tremendous investment in money. Keep it small. Big gardens require lots of work and lots of money; the Imperial Villa in Kyoto has 17 full time gardeners.

Some of the best gardens are small. The Zen gardens associated with the residences of the Tea Masters, are a fine example. Most are only 3’ by 6’ at best. The custom of the Tea Garden is to have at least 3 items: a small lamp (many are steel or wood), a water basin and some rocks.

The best gardens are very simple and use indigenous materials.

More important that expense or expanse is the time that the gardener spends in the garden. Like martial arts it is important never to miss practice. At a minimum, every day sprinkle some water on the garden or rake the gravel.

Keep your composition sparse. Remember that music is the space between the notes. Practice good form and it will feel like your Aikido in time.

Gardening deals with nature, our source. Rocks evoke permanency, water flexibility, trees grow and change over the years and so do we.

Happy trails.


[1] Published in the Aikido Today Magazine, issue no. 4, April/May 1996
[2] STONE GARDEN by Will Petersen, in The World of Zen Anthology, edited by Nancy Wilson Ross, Random House 1960

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