Urban Japan: The Neighborhood is a Dojo

The world has shifted a bit lately. It does that. This illustrated essay is part of a series on Why Urban Japan is So Good, and if so, why does it matter to the rest of the world?

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As Miko slams her friend’s body to the ground, I cannot help but notice how graceful the whole series of events is. The momentum of her friend’s body approaching quickly, the slight shift of the body and then, hair flying, the friend’s seemingly-unstoppable momentum being elegantly redirected to the ground.

The art of Aikido is one of the most amazing things to watch, in part because it is a martial art where peace is a fundamental concept. In Aikido one learns not to antagonize their opponent, but instead to harmonize with them. You seek to defend yourself but also to protect the person who is attacking you from injury. The overall goal is a peaceful resolution to conflict.

This sounds impossible, until you see it. Then, nothing seems impossible. After leaving the Aikido practice, after seeing attack after attack diffused with the smallest of effort, something becomes very clear: awareness and a peaceful mindset are not moral positions, they are powerful actions.

Walking back out into the neighborhood, we pass through the park and are greeted by the typical mid-afternoon weekday scene. A group of sparrows gather around an accordion player who has been tossing out seeds and warbling melodies, keeping me wondering which the birds prefer more. Across the treeline, several kids are out on the play structures, scrambling, yelling, and running with the kind of energy that can only really be used up doing exactly that. We walk with a slowness that I have come to appreciate as the pace of life in a neighborhood where hurrying is the exception rather than the rule.

Crossing an alley, Miko and I arrive at the Kindergarten. I smile at her little boy and make funny faces until he laughs uncontrollably — my number one duty as an uncle. Miko and her boy wave bye and I see her take hold of his tiny hand as they walk home, chatting excitedly about the day’s excitement. Meanwhile I jump on my bicycle, ride past the bustling wine bar next to the kindergarten, and on to the dockyards where I live.

Scenes from the afternoon stay vivid in my mind during the bike ride. In this neighborhood — which feels more like a big community living room than a city — taking moments to relax, to let out stress, or to have a glass of wine in the afternoon are part of the balancing act called life. What’s more, the neighborhood and economy are set up in a way where people actually have time for these moments.

To be fair, parents do not just prance around carelessly here every afternoon. They do however, with regularity, steal a quiet moment with a piece of cake and tea, or throw their friend to the ground at an Aikido practice, or warble a few notes with the birds and their accordion in the park. There is something about this place, which enables people to work on their life balancing act — of growth, of delight, and of responsibility to oneself and others.

In a way, a neighborhood itself might be seen as a dojo, a place where people from all walks of life are faced every day with challenges that need responding to. How will we use our energy? Will we use it to meet an attack with more attacks, or will we find ways to manifest peace, balance, and growth not just for ourselves but for others — no matter who they are or what challenges they might present?

In many ways there extreme imbalances in our lives and in the world at large, and urban Japan is no stranger to this imbalance. In this sense, you could say that Miko’s afternoon as a mother who practiced Aikido and took a slow walk in the park, is an exception.

Yet it is also apparent that the exceptions are growing in number.

In some ways, the workaholic landscape which has long characterized Japan is the same. In other ways it is morphing, connecting itself back to slowness, to awareness, and to some semblance of balance. This shift, comes largely from a generation who are immensely aware of the world around them, and who are seeking ways to bring about peace not only to themselves, but to others.

All of which reminds me that, just as in Aikido, each of our actions — slight as they may seem — holds the potential for an unbelievable force that can change the course of events for the better.

Perhaps the world needs a peaceful body slam every now and then?

Questions: What kind of peaceful body slam do you envision in your future, and how can you do it in a way that protects whatever you are body-slamming?

Next Week: I will be in Kobe next week for a job, so might see something a bit different here. Or not.

Read Another Story: Speaking of Kobe, I am reminded of the time I toured the Higashinada Waste Water Treatment Plant. Learning about how they make use of ‘poo power’ was totally mind-blowing. If you want to know what that’s all about, here’s the story…

SHORT #9: Let's Talk Crap About Energy

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