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Musings on Japanese and Ryukyu Budo
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 As the year draws to a close, many of us face what can feel like the most challenging stretch of the calendar. For some, Christmas is a time of joy and celebration; for others, it amplifies feelings of loss or loneliness. For those who do not mark the festive season, winter's long, dark months can seem unrelenting. This is the bleak midwinter—when the light feels far away, and the world's weight seems heavier than usual.
This past year has been my annus horribilis. Profound loss, difficult choices, and moments of deep sorrow have marked it. I lost my father, my compass and greatest inspiration, and as his first-anniversary approaches, I feel the depth of the void he left behind. The year began with another blow—the loss of Wee Jock, the world's laziest and most endearing dog, who brought us endless laughter. On top of that, I had to make some life-changing decisions, necessary but painful, and I am still reckoning with the cost. At one point, I dared to hope for light at the end of the tunnel, but it turned out to be an oncoming train. Yet, despite the chaos, there have been successes and moments of deep gratitude. I finally completed the book I worked on for years, a long-cherished dream that brought immense satisfaction. This achievement would not have been possible without the support of good travelling companions who shared their wisdom, offered encouragement, and walked alongside me throughout the journey. Their presence made all the difference, and I will always hold deep gratitude for their contributions. I was privileged to be part of a friend's launch of her lifelong retreat, grounded in Chinese culture. This was truly inspiring, as she is a woman of great vision, and witnessing her bring this dream to life reminded her of the incredible power of dedication and perseverance. I also celebrated new successes with friends who found their dream jobs and liberated themselves from the shackles imposed by others. Their achievements were a source of joy and inspiration, reminding me of the strength we all carry within to create better futures for ourselves. I also transferred my teaching licence to Ireland, opening doors for the future. More importantly, I reconnected with friendships I feared were lost, discovering the enduring warmth of shared histories. Supporting those who asked for help, regardless of their need, has been another source of quiet fulfilment. Perhaps most profoundly, I have rediscovered what lies at the core of my being—the dreams and desires that drive me and give my life meaning. Of course, the health and happiness of my children remain a constant source of joy and privilege. Watching their continued success fills my heart, even in the darkest times. The Gift of Presence In the depths of winter, the greatest gift we can offer is not something bought in a shop, wrapped in paper, or tied with a bow—it is the gift of ourselves. Our time, attention, and kindness can transform someone's day. Here are some ways to make a difference:
Create Small Comforts In challenging times, small rituals can provide solace and stability. Engage in activities that comfort you—a favourite book, a walk along the coastline, or listening to your favourite playlist. These simple acts can serve as anchors, grounding when life overwhelms. Whether it is losing yourself in the pages of a classic novel, taking in the crisp winter air on a quiet stroll, or letting a beloved song lift your spirits, these familiar moments can create pockets of peace and warmth amidst the bleakness of midwinter. The Courage to Receive Giving is easy to think of as virtuous, but receiving help also requires courage. If you are struggling this season, remember you are not a burden. Some people care about you and want to help. Sometimes, stubbornness can be both a virtue and a vice. While determination and self-reliance are admirable qualities. Stubbornly refusing to accept or seek support can lead to a vicious cycle of isolation. Draining your energy and severing connections with those who want to stand by you. Breaking this cycle requires bravery—acknowledging that we all need help sometimes. Here are a few steps you can take:
You Are Not Alone As we journey through the bleak midwinter, remember that you are loved, needed, and not alone. Even in the darkest moments, there are people who care about you—people who will listen, share your burdens, and remind you of your own resilience. Let us all be there for each other, offering kindness, patience, and understanding. Together, we can find the light—even in the bleakest midwinter. May this season be blessed and life-affirming for you and those you love. 厳しい冬の中で、光を見つける希望を探しましょう。 この1年は、深い悲しみや困難な選択、そして大きな喪失で満たされた「苦難の年」でした。しかし、その中にも感謝すべき成功や喜びの瞬間がありました。大切なのは、誰かに寄り添い、助けを求める勇気を持つことです。小さな心地よさやつながりを大切にし、希望を再び灯す季節にしましょう。あなたは一人ではありません。
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 Living a rich life forged from experience, reflection, and action does not exempt one from getting lost or making mistakes. Even Zen masters, saints, and sages have moments of faltering. This is not evidence of a lack of wisdom or enlightenment but rather a testament to their shared humanity. The notion of presenting oneself as infallible—a pseudo-perfect being—invites scepticism. Authenticity is rooted in imperfection, and it is within our shared human frailty that true wisdom emerges, connecting us all in our journey.
Consider the lives of significant figures such as Jesus, Socrates, and Buddha. Jesus expressed anger in the temple, Socrates willingly drank the hemlock, and Buddha’s death, or parinirvana (全果平穏), highlights the human condition even in the context of enlightenment. According to Buddhist tradition, Buddha accepted an offering of food that had inadvertently been tainted. Despite recognising its harmful effects, he consumed it out of compassion for the giver. Knowing his death was imminent, he continued to teach his disciples, reminding them to seek their paths to enlightenment. This act was not one of error but of profound teaching and reflection on impermanence. In Japanese, the adage “Even monkeys fall from trees” (猿も木から落ちる) reminds us that even those most adept at their craft or environment will occasionally falter. This adage is a metaphor for the inevitability of imperfection, regardless of one's expertise or familiarity with a situation. For monkeys, masters of tree-dwelling, a fall may happen due to fatigue, distraction, illness, or a misjudged branch. These reasons illustrate that expertise does not equate to infallibility; rather, it underscores the inevitability of imperfection. The Journey of Enlightenment Far from attaining a static state, the enlightened soul continues on an infinite journey of becoming. To “be” at deeper levels requires daily diligence and consistency. Enlightenment is not an escape from the human condition but an immersion within it. Life’s inevitable moments of tragedy, love, illness, and joy have the power to unbalance us. It is precisely in these moments of imbalance that the depth of enlightenment is revealed, inspiring us to grow and evolve. The genuinely enlightened individual does not seek to live above or outside the world. Instead, they embrace their interconnectedness with it. They are touched, shaped, and pressured by life’s circumstances but ultimately become one with them. To separate oneself from the world, as in the life of a solitary monk, may be an appropriate path for some. However, this detachment can hinder the journey toward true liberation (解脱 or moksha) for many. Life is not to be avoided but fully engaged with, as the path to enlightenment is one of integration rather than isolation. The Balance Between 術 and 道 As a martial arts teacher, I find the distinction between 術 (jutsu) and 道 (dō) particularly illuminating. Often misunderstood or misappropriated, these concepts represent two sides of the same coin. 術, often translated as “technique,” focuses on practical application and survival. Its ultimate goal is to “not be there”—to evade, adapt, and overcome without being caught. In contrast, 道, translated as “the way,” seeks complete presence, a state of being so immersed that one transcends the concept of self. The balance between these two concepts mirrors the human journey: the need to adapt to the immediate while striving for the transcendent. For example, in judo (終道), the practitioner strives to merge technical skill with the philosophy of harmony and flow. Similarly, in kendo (劍道), the mastery of swordsmanship evolves into a quest for self-mastery. The interplay between 術 and 道 mirrors the human journey: the need to adapt to the immediate while striving for the transcendent. Embracing the JourneyWhile the ideal might be to seamlessly embody both “not being there” and “being so there that you are no longer there,” this remains a distant goal for many of us. Acknowledging this gap is not a failure but an acceptance of the ongoing nature of the journey. As the saying goes, “The journey is half the fun.” Daily diligence and reflection are necessary companions on this path. Through our moments of being lost, of falling from the tree, we gain insights into ourselves and the world around us. These moments are not setbacks but opportunities to grow, to reconnect with the 道, and to refine our understanding of life’s 術. Ultimately, to live as a human is to embrace the paradoxes and imperfections that define us. Enlightenment is not about achieving a state of flawlessness but about continually striving to harmonise with life’s ebbs and flows. In doing so, we remain authentic, grounded, and profoundly human. Having fallen from the tree recently. I now begin the slow climb back up! 経験、反省、行動から築かれた豊かな人生を送っていても、迷いや過ちから免れることはありません。禅僧や聖人でさえも失敗する瞬間があります。それは悟りや知恵の欠如を示すものではなく、人間性の証です。「猿も木から落ちる」（猿も木から落ちる）という諺が示すように、熟練者でも時折失敗します。悟りとは完璧を目指すことではなく、不完全さを受け入れ、人生の流れと調和する努力を続けることなのです。 as for those who can read and decipher I offer this: 静かなる 明かり子守る 秋の道  There is something about seeing “Dr” in front of someone’s name that makes people assume they are exceptionally intelligent. It is an understandable reaction; earning a PhD is no small feat. But let us pause for a moment. Does having a doctorate mean someone is more intelligent, or does it reflect something else? From my experience and what research suggests, it is the latter. A PhD is more about perseverance and dedication than innate brainpower. Intelligence, on the other hand, is a different matter altogether.
PhDs: A Test of Resolve, Not Genius Earning a PhD is a testament to the power of perseverance. It takes years of studying, writing, rewriting, and dealing with setbacks. If you have ever spoken to someone in the middle of their doctoral research, you will know it is a gruelling process. Success in this arena is less about being naturally gifted and more about maintaining resolve when the going gets tough. The work of European educational theorists, such as Lev Vygotsky, offers valuable insights into this distinction. Vygotsky emphasised the role of persistence and collaboration in mastering challenging tasks. His idea of the “zone of proximal development” highlights how individuals often need sustained effort and support to move beyond their current abilities. This aligns with the notion that perseverance, not sheer genius, drives significant academic achievement. Take this as an example: I have met incredibly bright people who did not finish their PhDs because they lacked the patience or resilience to deal with the endless cycle of research and revisions. Conversely, I have met people of average intelligence who completed their doctorates through sheer persistence and organisation. It is the process that matters, not necessarily intellectual brilliance. Being Well-Read Does Not Equal Intelligence Earning a PhD means delving deeply into a specific area of knowledge. You read widely, synthesise ideas, and produce original research. But does being well-read make you intelligent? Not necessarily. Yes, it makes you informed and knowledgeable in your field, but intelligence is about more than simply knowing a lot. Daniel Kahneman, the psychologist and Nobel laureate, highlights this distinction in Thinking, Fast and Slow. He points out that intelligence is tied to how we think—our ability to problem-solve, adapt, and think critically in new situations. Being well-read, on the other hand, is a product of effort. It is a skill anyone can develop with time and commitment. For instance, someone with a PhD in history might know everything about a particular war but struggle to solve problems outside their field, such as managing a team at work. Intelligence is more about how we think than what we know. The Power of Natural Intelligence and Perseverance One of the most remarkable examples I know of intelligence and perseverance involves someone who grew up in a rough neighbourhood, in a household shattered by domestic violence, where survival, not education, was the priority. To escape these circumstances, they turned to sex work as a means of survival. Today, this same person is a central manager in a major global corporation. Their journey is a testament to raw intelligence and unrelenting perseverance. Their ability to navigate challenges, adapt to vastly different environments, and succeed where most would falter is unmatched. The practical intelligence they display—solving problems, managing complex relationships, and staying focused on their goals—far outstrips most people I have ever met, regardless of their degrees or credentials. Their story is a powerful reminder that intelligence and success are not confined to academic corridors. It takes a rare combination of determination, resilience, and creativity to rise above such adversity, qualities that no classroom can teach. It is not just about what you know, but how you apply it and the effort you put in. The Genetic Factor in Intelligence This is where it gets controversial. Intelligence, at its core, has a biological basis. Research, such as a study published in Nature Genetics (Plomin et al., 2018), shows that cognitive abilities are influenced by both genetic and environmental factors. Your ability to think critically or solve problems quickly is often linked to how your brain is wired. That is why intelligence and academic achievement do not always align. You can be a brilliant problem-solver without stepping foot in a university, just as you can hold a PhD without having Einstein-like intellect. Think of it this way: intelligence is the hardware, and being well-read is the software you install through effort and learning. Why This Matters So, why bother making this distinction? Because assuming a PhD equals intelligence does a disservice to the many different forms of brilliance. It undervalues those who did not pursue higher education but still made incredible contributions to society. Look at people like Steve Jobs, who dropped out of university but changed how we interact with technology. Or consider tradespeople who use creativity and problem-solving to build our homes or repair our cars. Intelligence is everywhere—it is not confined to lecture halls or research labs. It can be found in the artistic skills of a painter, the emotional intelligence of a therapist, or the strategic thinking of a business leader. What I Have Learned Over the years, I have come to see a PhD for what it is: proof that someone can stick with something challenging, not evidence that they are smarter than everyone else. Intelligence is more about adaptability, creativity, and solving problems; these traits do not require a diploma to shine through. So, next time you meet someone with a PhD, respect their hard work—but do not automatically assume they are a genius. And if you are someone without an advanced degree, remember that intelligence comes in many forms. Whether solving everyday problems, thinking outside the box, or making the world a better place, your actions, not your titles, truly reflect your brilliance. And is that not a much better way to understand someone? 博士号は必ずしも天才や知性の証ではありません。それはむしろ忍耐と努力の成果です。知性は問題解決や適応力に現れ、学歴だけで測れるものではありません。人生の成功は、学んだことをどう活用し、困難をどう乗り越えるかにかかっています。真の価値は、肩書きではなく、行動や結果に反映されるものです。  As I bring my Chitose Project to a close - I came across this original Chito Ryu song - Below I translate it into english for those so inclined. I incle above a photo of the musical score too! Enjoy.
Title: Song of Chitō-ryū (千唐流の歌) Lyrics by: Chitose Tsuyoshi (千歳強直) Music by: Yonezawa Hiroo (米山博男) Verse 1:Japanese: 青空高く草萌えて 夕日に映える広場には 今日も鍛える若人が 希望輝く我らが千唐流 生理医学に根ざしなる 流石われらの千唐流 Romaji: Aozora takaku kusa moete Yūhi ni haeru hiroba ni wa Kyō mo kitaeru wakamono ga Kibō kagayaku warera ga Chitō-ryū Seiri igaku ni nezashinaru Nagareishi warera no Chitō-ryū English Translation: The blue sky stretches high, and the grass sprouts, In the plaza glowing under the evening sun, Today again, the young train themselves, Their hopes shining brightly—our Chitō-ryū. Rooted in physiological science, Our steadfast Chitō-ryū. Verse 2:Japanese: 七分の力基礎にして 身体をきたえ技術をねり 日本の国を護るべし 世界の平和築くべし 強き力の空手道 共に世界に広めなむ 正しき空手千唐流 Romaji: Shichibun no chikara kiso ni shite Karada o kitae waza o neri Nihon no kuni o mamorubeshi Sekai no heiwa kizukubeshi Tsuyoki chikara no karatedō Tomo ni sekai ni hiromenan Tadashiki karate Chitō-ryū English Translation: With seventy percent effort as our foundation, We train the body and refine technique. We shall protect the nation of Japan, And build peace throughout the world. With strong and powerful karate-dō, Together, we shall spread it globally, This true karate of Chitō-ryū. Verse 3:Japanese: 平和を祈る師の教え 和忍の精神貫くぞ これぞ誠の空手道 おごる心も弱き気も ともに練武の邪魔として 百の試練に応えつつ 学べ若人千唐流 Romaji: Heiwa o inoru shi no oshie Wa nin no seishin tsuranuku zo Korezo makoto no karatedō Ogoru kokoro mo yowaki ki mo Tomo ni renbu no jama to shite Hyaku no shiren ni kotaetsutsu Manabe wakamono Chitō-ryū English Translation: The teachings of the master, praying for peace, Uphold the spirit of harmony and perseverance. This is the true karate-dō. Arrogance of the heart and weakness of will, Both must be eradicated through dedicated training. Facing a hundred trials and overcoming each, Learn, young people, the way of Chitō-ryū.  As my time in Japan draws to a close, I find myself reflecting—or at least attempting to make sense of—what I have experienced over the past quarter-century. Below, I share my thoughts on what I perceive to be a cultural trait of overly focusing on the negative. As I often quip with friends: In Japan, you only know if you are happy when you are miserable. I aim to explore what research suggests on this matter and consider potential alternative interpretations. However, this is a deeply personal reflection, shaped by my lived experience within Japan rather than detached, external analysis. A Culture of Critique: Hansei and Tanin no MeOne of the most enduring cultural traits I have observed in Japan is the profound entrenchment of self-critique and external validation in daily life. At the heart of this lies the concept of hansei (反省), often translated as self-reflection. Hansei encourages individuals to critically evaluate their actions, learn from mistakes, and strive to avoid repeating them. Its roots lie in Confucian and Buddhist traditions, where humility and personal improvement are deeply valued. However, in contemporary Japanese society, hansei frequently manifests as a hyper-awareness of failure. Consider the practice of hansei-kai (reflection meetings) in the workplace. These sessions often focus almost exclusively on identifying what went wrong, leaving little room for recognising achievements. This emphasis can make even minor errors the focal point of discussion, overshadowing any progress or success. Complementing hansei is the concept of tanin no me (他人の目), or "the eyes of others". Research by Markus and Kitayama (Culture and the Self) highlights how Japanese individuals are socialised to be acutely aware of how others perceive them. This external gaze often fosters behaviours aimed at avoiding criticism rather than pursuing personal growth or self-expression. The fear of public embarrassment, a deeply ingrained cultural concern, frequently eclipses any motivation to celebrate progress or take risks. Hyper-Criticism and the Struggles of International MarriagesInternational marriages in Japan often reveal the challenges posed by this cultural focus on hyper-criticism. While all relationships require understanding and compromise, the cultural gap between Japanese and non-Japanese partners can lead to profound misunderstandings. One significant factor is the way critique is often framed in Japanese relationships—not as rejection, but as a means of fostering self-improvement or harmony. However, for non-Japanese partners, especially those from cultures that prioritise explicit affirmation and praise, this can feel deeply alienating. Examples from Marital Dynamics
Hyper-Criticism Beyond Marriage: Martial Arts and Workplaces. The challenge of hyper-criticism extends beyond personal relationships and can be particularly evident in fields such as martial arts and professional environments. Martial ArtsForeign practitioners of Japanese martial arts often encounter a relentless focus on flaws, with instructors rarely offering praise for progress. The traditional teaching style emphasises rigorous correction and repetition, which may feel dismissive to those unfamiliar with this approach.
Workplace Dynamics: In professional settings, hyper-criticism often manifests in the form of relentless feedback on errors or areas for improvement, with little acknowledgment of achievements. While this approach fosters collective growth, foreign employees frequently struggle with the absence of individual affirmation. Over time, this dynamic can lead to frustration, reduced morale, and a perception of being undervalued. Education: Cultivating Perfectionism This cultural focus on negativity begins early in life. The Japanese education system is heavily examination-oriented, with curricula prioritising mastery of content for high-stakes entrance exams. Success is often measured by the ability to reproduce correct answers under pressure rather than creativity or exploratory learning. Stevenson and Stigler (The Learning Gap) argue that this approach fosters an emphasis on avoiding failure rather than embracing risk. Teachers commonly highlight mistakes as a means of guiding students, but this often results in a narrowing of focus. The fear of failure and obsession with perfectionism can stifle curiosity and discourage innovation, creating a generation of learners adept at avoiding error but hesitant to take creative or intellectual risks. Gaman and Resilience: The Virtue of Endurance Another cultural pillar is gaman (我慢), a concept loosely translating to endurance or perseverance. Gaman instils the virtue of enduring hardship without complaint and is deeply celebrated in Japanese society. This mindset is particularly visible in collective responses to crises, such as the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami. While the international community admired Japan’s ability to maintain order and composure during such devastating events, this stoicism often came at the cost of emotional openness. The cultural emphasis on enduring rather than processing or expressing feelings reinforced a societal tendency to suppress vulnerability, sometimes to the detriment of individual well-being. Balancing Criticism and Growth: The Role of Kaizen. Yet, Japan's cultural narrative is not solely one of negativity. The concept of kaizen (改善), or "continuous improvement", offers a counterpoint. Originating in the manufacturing sector and famously applied by companies such as Toyota, kaizen promotes incremental change and the celebration of small successes alongside constructive criticism. Unlike hansei, which often centres on identifying faults, kaizen encourages a more balanced approach, fostering ownership and progress at every organisational level. However, even kaizen is not immune to the pervasive cultural tendency to focus on flaws, as the pursuit of perfection can sometimes overshadow its successes. A Changing Tide? Generational Shifts Interestingly, younger generations are challenging some of these entrenched cultural norms. Kato and Fukuda (Youth in Transition: The Changing Values of Japanese Millennials) suggest that millennials and Generation Z are less inclined to conform to traditional expectations, including relentless self-critique. Globalisation and digital connectivity have exposed younger Japanese individuals to alternative perspectives that celebrate individuality and embrace imperfection. In schools, holistic approaches such as project-based learning are gaining traction, encouraging students to view failure as an integral part of growth rather than a source of shame. Concluding Thoughts: As I reflect on my time in Japan, I see a society that thrives on and is constrained by its hyper-focus on the negative. While hansei, gaman, and tanin no me have undoubtedly contributed to Japan’s resilience and achievements, they also perpetuate a psychological landscape where fear of failure overshadows the joy of growth. However, this is not a static picture. Emerging trends and generational shifts suggest that Japan’s cultural narrative is evolving. Like all cultures, Japan’s strength lies in its ability to adapt while preserving what is meaningful. As I prepare to leave this country that has profoundly shaped me, I carry with me both the weight of its criticism and the inspiration of its perseverance. Perhaps this is Japan’s true balance—teaching us to embrace both joy and struggle as equally vital parts of the human experience. 日本における幸福と批判文化：ネガティブへの過剰な焦点に関する考察 このブログでは、著者が四半世紀にわたり日本で暮らしてきた経験をもとに、日本文化におけるネガティブな側面への過剰な焦点について考察しています。以下は主なポイントの要約です。 主なポイント
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James M. HatchInternational Educator who happens to be passionate about Chito Ryu Karate. Born in Ireland, educated in Canada, matured in Japan Archives
November 2024
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