On Sunday, I walked in my favorite park in Torrance. I visited my squirrel friend Rocky, the Rock for short. Little Rocky is a very handsome squirrel, the Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson of squirrels. Just saying.
Okay, we’re not really friends. After all, Rocky is a squirrel. Rocky recognizes me when I visit. He lets me take photos of him on my iPhone. Mostly, the Rock trusts me in feeding him his favorite unsalted walnut snacks. All that said, I hang out with the Rock for a few minutes in the park a couple times a week.
I practice my stillness inside with Rocky. Create my calm within. In Aikido, I practice mushin, the empty mind. I practice mushin in the midst of the attack with someone coming to strike or grab me. In the moment of the attack, I create my Aikido technique whether that’s iriminage (clothesline to the head) or nikkyo (wrist lock). The late Mizukami Sensei said, “Have no preconceived notions.” Ishibashi Sensei says, “Everything quiet.” I quiet that noise inside me as I enter the attack, enter my fear. The purpose of Aikido is to release my fear within me.
In the attack, I apply the Aikido technique to myself, not to the attacker. The attacker is irrelevant. It’s only me against me. I choose whether to let the attacker pass or to end the attack. The attacker chooses whether to apply the technique to themselves and take the fall or to stand down. Amidst that chaos, I remain still inside. In stillness, I choose who I am, what I do. I’m present. I do what needs to be done.
In the park, I found Rocky near one of his resident trees. I gave him his favorite walnuts. Rocky stood in front of me, eating his snacks. Then from behind, I heard a little boy’s voice, “Oh look, a squirrel!”
There were two 7 years-old boys walking in the park with a woman, who was about my age. I guessed she was Grandma. A guess.
I gave the boys some snacks from my ziplock bag to feed Rocky. The boys rushed forward and scared the hell out of Rocky. I told one of the boys, “You gotta be still. Don’t move.” I smiled at the boy pointing toward his heart, “You gotta be still inside.” He smiled back. He got it.
Both boys gently laid down their snacks for Rocky. Slowly stepped away. Stood still. Everything quiet. They were still inside. Well, as still inside as they could be. Everyone’s zero, everyone’s starting point is different. The boys just had to practice stillness over, and over, and over again. Just saying.
Rocky stared at us standing in our stillness. He ran over. He ate his snacks. Rocky stood on his hind legs, holding a walnut with his tiny claws. The boys asked, “Can I get some more (snacks)?” I said, “Sure.” Their Grandma politely reminded them to say, “Thank you.” They did so. They were good boys. They were all good, decent people. After watching Rocky devour his snacks, the boys and the woman continued their walk in the park. I continued mine, too.
Rounding the bend on the opposite side of the park, Rocky ran up to me on the walkway. He stood up on his hind legs, standing tall, all 12 inches of him. I ran low on his snacks. So, I walked back to my car to replenish my walnut supply. Rocky patiently waited by his tree for my return. I gave him his snacks. He walked up to my feet and ate his snacks. We hung out for a few minutes. Everything quiet. Stillness inside.
In my stillness inside, I reinvent myself in the moment: Who I am, what I do. Over the years, in my own trials and tribulations, there’s always noise, always distractions, always fear present in life. My stillness inside generates the space to reinvent me to do what I need to do, to be with what I need to be with. That’s feeding a little squirrel in the park. That’s throwing 5 bigger, stronger black belts coming to grab me in my Nidan (2nd degree black belt) test in Aikido. That’s delivering the eulogy for my late Mom, who was the great love story of my life, at her funeral services in Honolulu.
There will never be the ideal world nor the perfect time to do what I need to do, to be with what I need to be with. Yet, I can create that stillness inside me to be my authentic self. The best version of me. We all can do that, too. We’re all greater than we know ourselves to be. That greater-than version of ourselves sources from our stillness inside. Just saying.
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