It's
something that many who join this wonderful Guild aren’t used
to, while many have grown so used to it that it no longer holds
significance for them. I'm referring to the simple act of bowing. I
myself rarely paid attention to its significance except in the specific
context of opening Kwon lessons--where the situation itself called for
heightened mindfulness--until a young Monk brought me to consider the
act in a new light.
That young
Monk was Brother Rindor, who came to us as a stow away, escaping his
own village of Orc-kind. For him, bowing was uncomfortable in the
extreme, and this very discomfort brought me to consider it in a more
mindful way.
The origins of
this simple gesture seem lost in the long-past, but considering it
carefully in itself, I think those origins can be hypothesized with
reasonable confidence. One who trains long with blade, fist and foot is
uniquely aware of what the act does on the most basic level: it exposes
the neck to a decisive and killing blow.
Where it
exists in societies - such as the Orcish one Rindor came to us from -
where force of might still determines leadership and social hierarchy,
its use seems to confirm that such exposure is the basic reason for the
bow. In such societies it is a sign of weakness and total submission,
an acknowledgment of another's superiority and of laying one's life
before that other as an object. It is no wonder that one coming freshly
from such a culture would be hesitant to bow.
In indicating
what it meant or what it means now to others, I don't mean to infer
that such is what it means for us. I do think, however, that feeling
the exposure mentioned above, the vulnerability inherent in the act,
can remind us of its significance as we bow to our brothers and
sisters. Perhaps we see it as a sign of humility because of such a past
of the gesture, residual in a collective cultural memory.
Simply calling
it a sign of humility and leaving it at that is simply too easy and
inexplanatory for me, and doesn't do it justice if that humility itself
isn't understood. Understanding the vulnerability mentioned above helps
us to understand that bowing is fundamentally an act of demonstrating
trust.
The trust
demonstrated can be trust in ourselves as well as in the one we bow to.
Rather than a sign of weakness, the bow can be understood as a sign of
contained strength, and confidence that - even if it were wished - the
one bowed to would be unable to take the life of the one bowing. In
some circumstances, it can even become an arrogant flaunting of
power... if you doubt this, bow with a smile to the next angry Orc you
come across and watch the reaction... In some who never bow, I
sometimes sense not real arrogance, but its opposite: an insecurity
that won't allow them to show any vulnerability, because doing so would
show their strength to be the lie that they feel it truly is. It is
because of such considerations that simply calling it, without thought,
an expression of humility can miss other aspects of this simple daily
act.
That trust so
demonstrated in the bow is the basis for all true respect, and in the
end may be the basis for real humility: to be truly humble is to trust
that we are part of a whole greater than ourselves, and that that whole
plays out with an inherent wisdom. Such a whole is formed by
relationships between beings, and bowing can be seen as an
acknowledgment of one such relationship.
Such seems
especially clear to me when it is a bow before a battle that will end
the life of one or the other. Beyond just bowing to the other, the
opponents are bowing to the process that is taking place through them,
trusting that if it is one's own life that the process takes, it is
meant to be so. To be comfortable in that radical vulnerability may
well be one of the fundamental lessons of the Kwon.
Because in the
end, that vulnerability is always present: life is impermanent, our
neck is exposed at all times whether we realize it or not. The bow can
be a sign of our mindfulness of this fact, and our respect for it.
- Kwon Bushi
Kulthesu
|
