"Because a man can see, he does not look." — Master Po.
I’m sure most of you read about the passing of David Carradine recently. The details and speculation around his death were more and more revealing as the case went on, starting with suicide, and ending up as an auto erotic act gone awry. If you type his name on Google you will learn everything you never wanted to know about the man.
For me I will always remember him as Kwai Chang Caine the humble yet capable Shaolin monk. He was a Buddhist monk who kills the emperor’s nephew (for killing his beloved master – I know that’s being a bad Buddhist) and flees to America and the wild, Wild West. For the three years that show aired (1972-75) I was glued to the TV. I was 14 years old and idolized this character. He was gentle and soft spoken, yet always sublimely aware of his surroundings. When pushed he could diffuse a situation with a minimum of violence, and typically with his bare hands. There was no gratuitous bloodshed and over blown firepower like ninety-nine percent of what’s on TV now. Watching the show you always knew he would run into some heavies and there was going to be a showdown. Yet the way in which he used his skills had no ego attached to it. He always helped those less capable, and usually the underprivileged. He was also very cool. He grew his hair long. He played the flute and carried very little in the way of possessions. He wandered the western landscape in bare feet. He practiced his art form daily.
In fact I was hooked by the portrayal of this solitary monk wandering from place to place sowing peace and harmony. For me the desire to study martial arts and eastern philosophy had its origins in this TV character. How cool would it be to disarm a bad guy and be the quiet hero? What freedom to be able to go wherever you are called to go with no attachments. To meditate, to do tai chi by a flowing river, to never stay long enough in one place to put down roots.
Six years later I found myself doing my best to live this dream. I applied to a school called the Blue Poppy Chi Kung Association who according to their brochure “was dedicated to training Knights without armor”. Sign me up! So my buddy Val and I left NYC and headed to Boulder for the summer of 1980. I was 22 years old.
For an entire summer I ate, slept, and breathed the Caine dream. I walked around Boulder in bare feet, I practiced Chi Kung daily, bathed in Boulder Creek, and spared with Val on the lawn of the public library. I carried a wooden samurai sword on my back wherever I went and Val carried a wooden staff. We went up to the mountains and tripped on mushrooms. We danced and drank until the bars closed and then went to the all night diner and ate breakfast. We barely slept. We studied Chinese medicine with the founder of the school. We practiced kung fu by a flowing river, the occasional homeless guy wandering through our class and no one flinching as he weaved through the group. We stood for an hour in horse stance with our master, no one moving a muscle even to swat at a pesky fly or the master would yell at us. I know I tried my hardest to integrate this dream that was born years earlier watching a TV character that I fully believed was real. The truth is I was human too.
I left Boulder that summer to pursue a woman I had been living with in NYC who now was living with some older (28!) guy in Portland Oregon. There was some tension as word filtered back to my girlfriend that Val & I were hitchhiking to Portland for a showdown with her new boyfriend. In fact it was all hype. I think a bunch of pool furniture ended up in their swimming pool in a drunken act of defiance. I’m pretty sure Val had to fish it out by himself as I had driven off into the night to sleep off my hangover. Anyway.
My point is we are all human and the images of perfection don’t always synch up to what we live in the course of our daily life, or the choices we make in the moment.
David Carradine was not the TV character he played in 1972. In my mind he would have led a quiet contemplative life finally settling down and meeting a good companion. Maybe have a few kids. Teach them his art. Be the old wise man. Then fade away peacefully. Yet his last act was laid bare for the entire world to see.
Yes there is a tinge of sadness that a hero is exposed as human with real foibles. And yes there is another tinge of sadness that that young man that moved to Colorado with hopes of being the next Kwai Chang Caine put away his sword and put on shoes and found a job and pursued some kind of security.
There is no bad in that of course. I just wonder if the dream of who we might be and the reality of who we are will ever merge. Is it possible? Can the fantastic and heroic image and the everyday ordinary image blend together so as to lose the distinctions? Can we live the way we know how in our heart of hearts and satisfy both divisions?
Is there a way to live nobly? And to die nobly?
Master Po: Close your eyes. What do you hear?
Young Caine: I hear the water, I hear the birds.
Po: Do you hear your own heartbeat?
Caine: No.
Po: Do you hear the grasshopper that is at your feet?
Caine: Old man, how is it that you hear these things?
Po: Young man, how is it that you do not?
See you out there on the road, listening.
Peace.
J
I’m sure most of you read about the passing of David Carradine recently. The details and speculation around his death were more and more revealing as the case went on, starting with suicide, and ending up as an auto erotic act gone awry. If you type his name on Google you will learn everything you never wanted to know about the man.
For me I will always remember him as Kwai Chang Caine the humble yet capable Shaolin monk. He was a Buddhist monk who kills the emperor’s nephew (for killing his beloved master – I know that’s being a bad Buddhist) and flees to America and the wild, Wild West. For the three years that show aired (1972-75) I was glued to the TV. I was 14 years old and idolized this character. He was gentle and soft spoken, yet always sublimely aware of his surroundings. When pushed he could diffuse a situation with a minimum of violence, and typically with his bare hands. There was no gratuitous bloodshed and over blown firepower like ninety-nine percent of what’s on TV now. Watching the show you always knew he would run into some heavies and there was going to be a showdown. Yet the way in which he used his skills had no ego attached to it. He always helped those less capable, and usually the underprivileged. He was also very cool. He grew his hair long. He played the flute and carried very little in the way of possessions. He wandered the western landscape in bare feet. He practiced his art form daily.
In fact I was hooked by the portrayal of this solitary monk wandering from place to place sowing peace and harmony. For me the desire to study martial arts and eastern philosophy had its origins in this TV character. How cool would it be to disarm a bad guy and be the quiet hero? What freedom to be able to go wherever you are called to go with no attachments. To meditate, to do tai chi by a flowing river, to never stay long enough in one place to put down roots.
Six years later I found myself doing my best to live this dream. I applied to a school called the Blue Poppy Chi Kung Association who according to their brochure “was dedicated to training Knights without armor”. Sign me up! So my buddy Val and I left NYC and headed to Boulder for the summer of 1980. I was 22 years old.
For an entire summer I ate, slept, and breathed the Caine dream. I walked around Boulder in bare feet, I practiced Chi Kung daily, bathed in Boulder Creek, and spared with Val on the lawn of the public library. I carried a wooden samurai sword on my back wherever I went and Val carried a wooden staff. We went up to the mountains and tripped on mushrooms. We danced and drank until the bars closed and then went to the all night diner and ate breakfast. We barely slept. We studied Chinese medicine with the founder of the school. We practiced kung fu by a flowing river, the occasional homeless guy wandering through our class and no one flinching as he weaved through the group. We stood for an hour in horse stance with our master, no one moving a muscle even to swat at a pesky fly or the master would yell at us. I know I tried my hardest to integrate this dream that was born years earlier watching a TV character that I fully believed was real. The truth is I was human too.
I left Boulder that summer to pursue a woman I had been living with in NYC who now was living with some older (28!) guy in Portland Oregon. There was some tension as word filtered back to my girlfriend that Val & I were hitchhiking to Portland for a showdown with her new boyfriend. In fact it was all hype. I think a bunch of pool furniture ended up in their swimming pool in a drunken act of defiance. I’m pretty sure Val had to fish it out by himself as I had driven off into the night to sleep off my hangover. Anyway.
My point is we are all human and the images of perfection don’t always synch up to what we live in the course of our daily life, or the choices we make in the moment.
David Carradine was not the TV character he played in 1972. In my mind he would have led a quiet contemplative life finally settling down and meeting a good companion. Maybe have a few kids. Teach them his art. Be the old wise man. Then fade away peacefully. Yet his last act was laid bare for the entire world to see.
Yes there is a tinge of sadness that a hero is exposed as human with real foibles. And yes there is another tinge of sadness that that young man that moved to Colorado with hopes of being the next Kwai Chang Caine put away his sword and put on shoes and found a job and pursued some kind of security.
There is no bad in that of course. I just wonder if the dream of who we might be and the reality of who we are will ever merge. Is it possible? Can the fantastic and heroic image and the everyday ordinary image blend together so as to lose the distinctions? Can we live the way we know how in our heart of hearts and satisfy both divisions?
Is there a way to live nobly? And to die nobly?
Master Po: Close your eyes. What do you hear?
Young Caine: I hear the water, I hear the birds.
Po: Do you hear your own heartbeat?
Caine: No.
Po: Do you hear the grasshopper that is at your feet?
Caine: Old man, how is it that you hear these things?
Po: Young man, how is it that you do not?
See you out there on the road, listening.
Peace.
J
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