Budo Training is not intended to make strong people out of weak people. The only people who will thrive in Budo are already strong. They are strong where it counts most: in the spirit.
No amount of Budo training can make a weak spirit strong. It can only refine, temper, and shape a strong spirit. Budo training is not unlike the process of taking iron -- good, raw material -- and creating first steel and then shaping it into a fine sword.
Too much Budo training in today's world starts with aluminum and merely produces cheap, ornamental wall-hangers like you can buy on eBay for $39.95. It may look like a sword, but looks are deceiving. This is wasted Budo.
My sword is meant to pierce illusion and cut through ego.
Thank you for spending time with the Antagonistic Buddha.
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Thank you for spending time with the Antagonistic Buddha.
Thank you for spending time with the Antagonistic Buddha.
Who is the Antagonistic Buddha?
I was born small, but quickly grew. my family was related to me. They loved me, and I them. These things are true.
From before I could walk, I was trained in the skills of my ancestors: martial arts, philosophy, and double-entry bookkeeping. Then, I met the first of several figures who would shape my life. A wandering, blind masseur touched me -- as no one has touched me since. I took up my pilgrim's staff and left home to cure the spiritual blindness that afflicted me.
I continued my formal schooling in the mountains and there met two more mentors. One was a Drunken Master. He was the first among equals in a community of Drunken Scholars. He and I sat for long hours discussing the fabric of the Cosmos.
As I walked through the mountain forests, contemplating the serenity of nature, I encountered my next mentor: an old, gnarled warrior who introduced me to higher forms of combat. He was a horror with his prominent, hooked nose, claw-like hands and a pet crow that would perch upon his shoulders.
I spent four years prostrate to the higher mind, got my paper, then I was free.
Although I returned home with hopes of setting roots and contributing to society in the ordinary fashion, I soon found my ways at odds with my former friends. My time away had changed me. But as the saying goes: "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear."
While working as a short order cook on the boardwalk of an Atlantic Coast resort, I met the most important of my teachers.
She was a handsome woman with sparkling eyes and black hair just beginning to gray. She ordered a Pepsi and French Fries. I handed her the order and asked if she wanted anything else. She smiled and finished pouring vinegar over the steaming, hand-cut potatoes. Then she said, "Yes. Would YOU like fries with that?" I understood the futility of my existence; I undid my apron and quit on the spot.
I will not impose tales of our intimacy upon you, but suffice it to say that we shared far more than the simple fast food I sold her. She was wise and shared her knowledge and experience with me. We spent all summer together; we discussed the being of things, cause and effect, and meditated.
Early that October, as the last vestiges of the tourist season waned, I awoke from my meditation and realized I had touched gentle Divinity. I knew in that instant I would never see my wise sage woman again, and so I assumed the title conferred upon me in the vision: "Antagonistic Buddha, the Great Sage."
I then spent years wandering the world, learning the various martial arts -- mastering them all with ease. Now I shall share my hard won knowledge with you...
From before I could walk, I was trained in the skills of my ancestors: martial arts, philosophy, and double-entry bookkeeping. Then, I met the first of several figures who would shape my life. A wandering, blind masseur touched me -- as no one has touched me since. I took up my pilgrim's staff and left home to cure the spiritual blindness that afflicted me.
I continued my formal schooling in the mountains and there met two more mentors. One was a Drunken Master. He was the first among equals in a community of Drunken Scholars. He and I sat for long hours discussing the fabric of the Cosmos.
As I walked through the mountain forests, contemplating the serenity of nature, I encountered my next mentor: an old, gnarled warrior who introduced me to higher forms of combat. He was a horror with his prominent, hooked nose, claw-like hands and a pet crow that would perch upon his shoulders.
I spent four years prostrate to the higher mind, got my paper, then I was free.
Although I returned home with hopes of setting roots and contributing to society in the ordinary fashion, I soon found my ways at odds with my former friends. My time away had changed me. But as the saying goes: "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear."
While working as a short order cook on the boardwalk of an Atlantic Coast resort, I met the most important of my teachers.
She was a handsome woman with sparkling eyes and black hair just beginning to gray. She ordered a Pepsi and French Fries. I handed her the order and asked if she wanted anything else. She smiled and finished pouring vinegar over the steaming, hand-cut potatoes. Then she said, "Yes. Would YOU like fries with that?" I understood the futility of my existence; I undid my apron and quit on the spot.
I will not impose tales of our intimacy upon you, but suffice it to say that we shared far more than the simple fast food I sold her. She was wise and shared her knowledge and experience with me. We spent all summer together; we discussed the being of things, cause and effect, and meditated.
Early that October, as the last vestiges of the tourist season waned, I awoke from my meditation and realized I had touched gentle Divinity. I knew in that instant I would never see my wise sage woman again, and so I assumed the title conferred upon me in the vision: "Antagonistic Buddha, the Great Sage."
I then spent years wandering the world, learning the various martial arts -- mastering them all with ease. Now I shall share my hard won knowledge with you...
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