Often a reader of this blog might remark that while one gains a good glimpse of what I might think about fatherhood, politics, literature, or whatever, one does not get a good up-close inspection of myself and my daily surroundings. Much is abstract and ephemeral, little is concrete or immediate. I will try to remedy that problem in this posting. I’m going to show you where I live.
This is my bedroom –
– and seen from the opposite direction –
My younger daughter came into my room recently and said the images I have all over my walls were “inspirational.” This is not by accident. I put great thought into my room’s decor, and I suspect a reader gaining a detailed glimpse of it would learn a lot about me. A visitor might learn much more quickly and directly in looking at my room than in inferring what I believe through the thousands of paragraphs in the essays I have written here.
Or maybe I write this for my daughters, as I do so often. Years and years from now they might read this and understand their father better. They have seen my room, of course, but I do not generally take the time to explain my thinking to them. Teenagers are generally uninterested in their parents. They are focused on themselves, their friends, and high school drama. But later on they might be more curious.
I will start off with the wall opposite my window. Here I started off with a quadriptych of sorts with quotes from Marcus Aurelius. They are meant to be together. If I would adhere to any philosophical “school,” it would be Stoicism. I was raised Roman Catholic, but I did not find much of it to stick. I cobbled together my own ethos on what I believe, as evidenced on the walls of my room. So what do these first four quotes from that stoic Roman Emperor:
“The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts.”
“Give yourself a gift, the present moment.”
“The obstacle is the way.”
“While we wait for life, life passes.”
I love it. So it is on my wall. Here is a photo –
I have to admit I am copying one of my heroes, Michel de Montaigne, to a certain degree. He had scores of quotes from famous Roman and Greek philosophers carved into the walls of his library. If I ever have a house big enough to have a tower with a dedicated library, I hope to do the same.
Around those quotes by Marcus Aurelius on the wall I have photos of my wife and myself –
and many many pictures of my daughters and our larger family –
In contrast to abstract philosophical assertions on how to live, which will take up the latter part of this essay, these are concrete representations of my family – my flesh and blood, along with some miscellaneous personal photos. Importantly, there is also one frame each of my honored father and beloved mother. They all round each other out.
The next section I will talk about is the side of wall next to my curtains. This is my tennis section:
I have interchanged photos of famous tennis players and quotes from them, with photos of myself and my tennis buddies. I have read that tennis is among the most efficacious of sports in terms of health and prolonging life. This is because tennis offers solid exercise yet also can be played late into life. It is also because there are strong social advantages to tennis: you play it with other people, in a social setting, and after the match you have a beer and visit. Maybe the social aspect of tennis is more important than the exercise. Check this photo out:
Do you see what I mean? So I have photos of myself on that wall with my friends at USTA sectionals weekends where we would rent out a house, play high level tennis, and have raucous dinners together afterwards. We would travel to San Diego, Orange County, or Palm Desert and have a “boys weekend away.” Those are wonderful memories! I look at those photos and remember my teammates and I joking around during those road trip weekends –
– and those friendships are much more important than winning or losing any tennis match. And at the bottom is a prized photo of myself playing doubles with Chris Prewitt, my good friend who was later run over and killed by a “distracted driver.” Over a decade later I cannot look at that photograph without almost choking up. But I am glad it is there.
Next there is the wall opposite my bed. Here it is:
I am unsettled by the fact that this wall is a mix of personal photos and closely-held philosophies, some of which are unrelated to the others. The decorations in my room were the organic result of many hours of thought, and it developed into an overall product over time. But it is imperfectly organized, and I am still actively thinking it through. Like my life overall, it is always changing. In some ways I am the same as when I was a little boy. In others I am very different. But I am always open to learning, changing, and evolving. This wall is good evidence of that. In fact, all the decor on my walls show this.
On the ledge where my tennis “sun shirts” hang, I have photos of my daughters when they were younger.
Enough said. And towards the bottom right I have the “rules of tennis.” I especially like this one, “You compete as you practice.” I would add the military statement that ideally one “sweats in training to avoid bleeding in combat.” I also have some philosophical statements that I had made into wooden engravings (which were expensive). I have one saying by Confucius, and one by Aristotle, from ancient China and Ancient Greece, respectively; they both talk of the supreme importance of the control of the self. These words resonate with me, even as the speakers of them lived thousands of miles away from each other almost two millennia ago. Those messages go deep to who I am. So I created the image files in Photoshop, and then I paid good money to have them transposed onto wood. I love them! Then there is a quote from Cicero explaining the importance of philosophy in living “the good life.” Then I have a quote from Morihei Ueshiba, “The purpose of training is to tighten up the slack, toughen the body, and polish the spirit.” Indeed! Philosophical and spiritual study should be equally backed up by physical exertion — extreme sweat and struggle almost until failure, while never losing mental focus: this is what the martial arts are about. (And life more generally, too.) Yes, this wall is a mix of many important aspects of my belief system.
In that area I also have some photos of myself and firearms. There are some photos of a good friend of mine and myself when we did the week-long US Marine Corps educators workshop, getting a taste of boot camp at the MCRD San Diego. There is another series of photos of myself with two old buddies I have known since college at a local shooting range. For some 35 years we have had each other’s backs. There is another quote by Jeff Cooper that I love, “Blessed are those who, in the face of death, think only about the front sight.” More than the mere reminder of good shooting technique, it is a reminder to keep cool under pressure. When it comes to life or death decisions – or winning or losing in the moment of crisis in competition – to clear one’s mind and stand and deliver is crucial. It has made the difference for me in more than a few tight tennis matches! The more stressful and tense the situation is, the quieter and more focused the mind should become. I was immediately attracted to this sentiment when I first encountered it as a teenager, and I still am over forty years later. So it is on my wall.
You will notice on the bottom right the photo of Atticus Finch. I taught the novel “To Kill a Mockingbird” for two decades to high school freshmen, and more than one or two people have told me I reminded them of the character from that novel Atticus Finch. I took that as praise of the highest order! So I took the popular “What Would Jesus Do?” (WWJD?) meme, and I substituted Atticus Finch for Jesus.
“What would Atticus Finch do?” Indeed! I used to have that quote on the back of my cell phone case. Now it is on my wall. In a moment of moral crisis or indecision in what to do, I will think back to my father and Atticus Finch. (They are very similar types.) They have an answer to most questions. Both men, in addition to the others in my room, are my North Star. I look to them for guidance.
Then there is the wall on the other side of my window. This is near where I lay my head at night, so I wanted quotes which were calming. I wanted ideas which might move into my dreams at night, and make them more restful and refreshing. The first one is again by Marcus Aurelius:
I liked this quote because it reminds me that accepting the worst about anything is freeing. As a young man, I would refuse to accept uncomfortable or painful truths about myself or my life. As an older man, I can accept the worst and it is ok. “Give me the truth,” I think now. “I can handle it.” This is calming. It helps to center me. (Maybe this is a maturity of sorts?) To be happy in my own skin, to be calm in times good and bad, to be able to confront suffering with stoicism and patience – this has been a lifetime of work for me. And it has been work – intellectual work, spiritual labor. “Suffering, suffering into truth.” It helps on the tennis court, too. I sometimes play against younger men who have not spent as many years suffering on the tennis court, and often they wilt under pressure. They have not as much experience under pressure, and have not yet mastered how to focus and perform when exhausted and stressed. This is a learned skill, in my opinion. Maybe some are born better able to perform it, but you have to learn to suffer and endure. Patience. Perseverance. Mental toughness, as well as physical endurance. “The obstacle is the way,” as Marcus Aurelius claimed.
This leads me to the photo above that. As a martial artist I was introduced to the idea of training your body to automatically perform a sequence of movements. Conscious thought gets in the way. One wants automaticity. “Mushin” is the Japanese concept of turning off your prefrontal cortex in a combat situation and allowing your training to take over. Your body knows what to do: overthinking a situation just slows you down, it gets in the way. This introduces the idea of Zen Buddhism which so influences the martial arts. But to “empty your mind” and to allow the body to move as it should… well, this is the essence of martial arts, tennis, marksmanship, as well as so many other pursuits. It is an invaluable lesson.
I look around nowadays and see so many young people who suffer from anxiety and depression. They stare neurotically at their screens nonstop via social media and almost want to cry at political events around the world. The unhinged are controlled by computer algorithms and uncontrolled emotions. As a result such persons are on the verge of throwing themselves off a bridge in despair. Often they almost brag about their poor mental health and helplessness in the face of it all. I look at such a person and stand amazed. I go the other way almost completely. I would remain stoical. I will keep my cool. I remember the Korean martial arts masters from my youth who were almost always composed, thoughtful, relaxed, and positive. They were men capable of enormous violence and were deadly serious during class, but I found most of them to be among the gentlest and most patient men I ever knew. In times of stress and crisis when I am unsure, I look to the best of them as examples of what to think and how to act. Those Koreans, in addition to the others I already mentioned, are my role models. Daily life can be so confusing and confounding. It is far from clear how to act when confronted by one quandary or another, but if I take my vexing problems to them, they usually have an answer. Their whole lives are the simple answer to often complicated problems. To you your problems might seem insolvable. They are not.
Finally, there is the photo of Mas Oyama. A physically imposing man who did thousands of pushups per day, pounded his bare knuckles against trees until they bled, and could knock a bull senseless with a single blow, Oyama helped to found the feared Kyokushin “full contact” style of Karate. A Korean who lived his adult life in Japan, Oyama was a man intense in the dojo but tranquil outside; he was about as far from losing his cool and attacking some stranger in a fit of pique as you could imagine. Here is a great quote from Oyama on the wall below my bed and next to my pillow:
Oyama is evidencing the influence of Zen Buddhism. This martial training is to habituate oneself to being in the middle of violent action, but at the same time to be stoic and solid in a tranquil disposition of Zen harmony. To be calm in the middle of a burning building. All this through years of disciplined and focused practice. “One becomes a beginner after a thousand days of training and a master after ten thousand days of practice,” Oyama claimed. Discipline, discipline, discipline! Whether it be in karate, tennis, marksmanship, teaching, parenting, citizenship, whatever – this ability to control oneself is so important. “Kill your ego,” I urge myself. Calm. Patience. Perseverance. A gentle outlook towards others and yourself. Acceptance. Humility in the face of others and fate. “You too will be dead soon enough.” Just like Mas Oyama, Marcus Aurelius, Confucius, Epictetus, Aristotle, Cicero, Atticus Finch, and the others. They are all dead. You will die also. Memento mori.
Finally, there is the last wall in my room. On purpose I have not overpopulated this wall with picture frames, as I have arguably done with the others –
On the far left I have a quote from Epictetus talking of the importance of living a life which is everyday devoted to excellence; I think this is what my daughter was referring to as “inspirational” (aspirational?). Next to that I have another poster taking about the traits of Bushido. Then I have bolted into my wall a serrated KA-BAR knife made out of “D2 steel” with a custom inscription. This knife is razor sharp and has a wonderful feel in the hand, and the KA-BAR knives have a long and rich history in my country. I wanted one of my own! The knife has engraved into it the Latin quote, “Si Ves Pacem, Para Bellum.” (If you want peace, be prepared for war.) It also has my name. And then it sports a custom photo engraved into the steel of the painting to its left. Here it is:
This painting is a sign of the Taoist “yin and yang” dialectic of a karateka who is meditating. I loved this painting when I first saw it, for all that the Zen circle represents (円相, “circular form”). So I bought it, at some expense. And I ordered the knife next to it and had that image ingrained on it. I love it! And I decorated my wall in such a way as to highlight it all.
Finally, I have a painting of a boxer with his arms extended. If I have spent significant space on my walls extolling the spiritual aspects of the martial arts, I also want to have some reminders of the complimentary physical ones.
My younger daughter is a Muy Thai boxer. I am equal parts impressed and horrified by the difficulty boxers and wrestlers have with keeping all the sweat and bacteria the activity produces at bay in their workout spaces. They struggle with “hygiene injuries,” believe it or not – infectious fungi, staph infections. They sweat so much in their supremely arduous workouts that the boxing gyms smell like bodily excretion. It is a odor, like in a slaughterhouse, which is hard to describe. I love it! Any proper boxing gym worthy of the name smells like a combination of ripe armpit and sweaty shoe. The boxers are not playing around. They are serious. I admire their work ethic. I seek to emulate it, in my own way. Primal exertions. Blood, sweat, and tears – as was explained in already mentioned image on the opposite side of my room:
Finally, I have the saying mens sans in corpore sano above the head of my head. (“Healthy body, healthy mind.”) I made the graphic in Photoshop and paid to have it printed out, like almost all the other images on my walls. This saying is also inscribed on the frame of the license plate of my car. Furthermore, I own two leather bracelets with the same engraving, and my younger daughter also has one, too. I tell her we are “twinsies” when we both wear our bracelets. Healthy body, healthy mind – is there anything more important? First things first.
Daily exercise is the key for me to remain active and healthy. If movement and exercise were important when I was younger, they are more so as I age. As a history teacher I remind myself that over the vast majority of the time our species homo sapiens has populated the earth we lived as “hunter gatherers.” This was an active lifestyle lived almost entirely out of doors. This is what our bodies and brains want, evolutionarily-speaking. I try to live as much like this as I can, even with all the changed social mores and tech tools of our time. The entomologist Edward O. Wilson asserted, “The real problem of humanity is the following: We have Paleolithic emotions, medieval institutions and godlike technology. And it is terrifically dangerous.” Keeping this in mind I try to strictly control how current technology bleeds into my day-to-day life, trying to make sure it is healthy and not otherwise. The last thing I would want to do for my physical and mental health is sit at a desk all day long and stare at screens and fret and stress. So I have consciously chosen a life where I don’t do that.
And when I finally retire in a few years, I plan to increase my daily exercise considerably. I already workout everyday but am constrained by my job and parenting. Retirement will mean more freedom to do what I want, including exercise. So I plan to be out of doors and active more often – sweat and sun almost all the time. Yes, sweat and sun. I also hope to have a solid social network of friends and family who surround and support me – just like a member in a small band of hunter-gatherers 50,000 years ago. “Live like this, Richard. Live like this.”
This is health. It is how we are supposed to live.
I usually write a particular blogpost or another because I am engaged in some internal dialogue on one issue or another. In putting my thoughts down into organized prose, I help to understand how I feel and think about some complicated issue. The discipline of clarifying and organizing my thoughts into coherent prose is indispensable in the process of understanding myself and my mind. I don’t really know what I think until I take the trouble of writing it down. So of course the perceptive reader can gain an insight into my thinking by reading my intellectual wrestling matches on topic x or y from my blog. That is why I write privately in a public setting.
But you will learn a lot more about myself and my convictions by reading this essay. In looking at the images and words on the walls of my room, you will get a more direct insight into what makes me tick. Que sais je? Michel de Montaigne asked himself. He set forth to try and answer that question and as a result we have his wonderful “essaies.” In my own way, I am doing the same. Online here. And on the walls in my bedroom.
Yes, to live like Montaigne in Bordeaux in my large library with philosophical quotes in Latin inscribed in the walls during the Renaissance. Or around the same time to live like a Shaolin monk in 1575 China – I think I would like that. I could dwell in an austere small-ish room (like I kind of do now) and write and ponder philosophy and practice martial arts all day long in the monastery. That would be my choice. This is who I am.
Amen.
P.S. I was raised in the Roman Catholic religion and was brought by my parents to church every Sunday until I turned 18-years of age. I don’t quarrel with my religious upbringing, even as it left not much trace on me. But I found and embraced what works for me: my bedroom walls are the evidence therein. These are the ideas and concepts I have CHOSEN.
