How to Stop Negotiating With Your Mind | The Japanese Method

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Brief Summary

This video discusses the concept of presence in the context of becoming a skilled samurai, highlighting the four distinct forms of presence that one must master. It shares the story of Teeshi, who, after becoming a samurai, learns from his mentor, Yamamoto sensei, about the importance of applying the right form of presence to different situations. The key takeaways include:

  • There are four forms of presence: Mushin (no mind), Hoshin (ordinary mind), Metsuk (the way of seeing), and Ma (the space between).
  • The mastery of these forms allows for effective communication and action in various contexts, increasing adaptability and ensuring success in critical moments.

Teeshi's Initial Failures

In 1617, Teeshi stands in his dojo after becoming a samurai, and he faces a challenge not in combat, but in communication when helping a farmer with a dispute. Despite being fully present, he fails to resolve the issue due to misunderstanding the nature of presence. His mentor, Yamamoto sensei, observes and prompts Teeshi to consider which presence he was using, leading to a realization that there are multiple ways to be present, and using the incorrect form can be as detrimental as being absent entirely.

Understanding the Four Presences

Yamamoto sensei introduces Teeshi to the four forms of presence: Mushin, which allows action without thought; Hoshin, which maintains composure during any situation; Metsuk, which emphasizes a holistic view rather than focusing narrowly; and Ma, which involves understanding and utilizing the space and timing in situations. Teeshi learns that each presence has its unique domain and that mastery requires discerning which to use in various scenarios.

Principle One: Mushin

Mushin, often misunderstood as no-mind, refers to a state of complete unity between action and thought, devoid of observation or delay. Teeshi experienced this during his final test but later discovered through rigorous training that he needed to refine his practice to achieve a state where intention and action occur seamlessly. This level of mastery requires extensive repetitive training until actions become instinctual, without conscious thought, to avoid revealing intentions to opponents.

Principle Two: Hoshin

Hoshin translates as “ordinary mind” and focuses on maintaining a consistent internal state regardless of the situation’s gravity. Yamamoto sensei points out that Teeshi's peak performance during his test was not sustainable over time due to the unnecessary elevation of his state. Learning to treat regular tasks with the same gravity as high-stakes moments allows warriors to conserve energy and maintain effectiveness across various challenges.

Principle Three: Metsuk

Metsuk emphasizes the ability to see the totality of a situation without fixating on singular elements. Teeshi realizes his previous failure with the farmer resulted from a narrow focus on words instead of grasping the overall context. Yamamoto sensei trains him to cultivate a broader awareness that captures subtle cues and dynamics, enhancing his ability to read situations accurately and respond appropriately.

Principle Four: Ma

Ma, the principle related to the intervals and spaces surrounding actions, shows that the distance and timing in exchanges possess strategic significance. Yamamoto demonstrates how awareness of these intervals can grant a warrior control over encounters. By tuning into the gaps in communication and combat, one can dictate the flow of situations rather than merely reacting, reinforcing the understanding that both physical and communicative engagements are dynamic.

The Rehearsed Calm

After two years of training, Teeshi notices that his composed demeanor during interactions has become automatic, yet he realizes it lacks genuine presence. His steady breathing and posture appear presentational, not authentic, which eventually leads to an emotional disconnect during a crucial moment. Yamamoto sensei advises him to consciously evaluate his state of calmness, reflecting on whether it is an active choice or an automated reaction, pushing Teeshi back toward authentic presence.

Conclusion: The Four Weapons

Teeshi learns that true mastery lies in not just knowing how to be present but understanding which form of presence is most appropriate for different contexts. The four forms—Mushin, Hoshin, Metsuk, and Ma—are not to be viewed as steps but as simultaneous skills a master can switch between based on the situation. The art of presence becomes a versatile tool that, when misapplied or overly simplified, can lead to lost opportunities and challenges in life's critical moments.

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Transcript

Full transcript of “How to Stop Negotiating With Your Mind | The Japanese Method”. Click a timestamp to open the video at that moment. Need another video? Use the YouTube transcript generator.

0:00 In 1617, 2 years after he passed the test that made him a samurai, Teeshi stood in the courtyard of his old dojo and failed. Not in combat, in a conversation. A farmer had come to the gate asking for help with a dispute between two families in his village. Teeshi listened with total presence. He held his awareness exactly as the monks on Mount Koya had trained him to hold it. He was completely here, completely now, exactly as the teaching demanded. and he made the situation worse. Yamamoto sensei watched the whole exchange from the verander. Afterward, he asked a question that would take Teeshi another 3 years to fully answer. You were present, he said. Which presence were you using? Teeshi did not

0:46 understand the question. Presence was presence. You were either here or you were not. Wrong. The master told him that is what a student believes. A master knows there are four presences, and using the wrong one is the same as using none at all. The swordsman who brings stillness when the moment demands sight will die exactly as fast as the swordsman who brought nothing. Here's what nobody tells you about being present. Everyone teaches you to arrive in the moment. Almost nobody teaches you what to do once you are standing in it. You have felt this. You slowed down. You paid attention. You did the work of being here and the situation still went badly. You were not distracted. You were not somewhere else. You were present in

1:31 the wrong way and no amount of additional presence would have fixed it because the problem was never the amount. Four forms, four principles, each one a different way of being completely here and each one useless in the situations the others were built for. Consider what this actually means in your own week. You went into a difficult conversation determined to listen properly. You did listen. You were not on your phone. You were not rehearsing your reply. You gave the person your full attention and the conversation still ended badly and afterward you could not identify what you had done wrong because by every measure you had done the recommended thing or you prepared carefully for something that mattered. You got yourself into the right state, focused, calm, ready. You performed adequately

2:18 and it cost you the entire rest of the day and you assumed that was simply the price of high stakes moments. Neither of those was a failure of attention. Both with the wrong presence applied to the situation and applying more of it would have made both worse. This is the story of the three years it took Teeshi to learn them. 3 years is a long time to spend on something you believed you had already learned. Teeshi said later that the hardest part was not the training. It was the first month when he had to accept that the achievement he was proudest of had been the beginning of a path rather than the end of one. Most people never get past that month. They pass their version of the test, receive the recognition that comes with it, and spend the rest of their lives applying the one presence they learned to every

3:04 situation they encounter, wondering why it works brilliantly in some rooms and fails completely in others. The four presences. The morning after the farmer left, Yamamoto sensei brought Teeshi to the empty training hall and drew four characters on a sheet of paper. Mushin, hey Joshin, Metsuk, Ma, you learned presence as one thing, the master said. A single door you walk through. That was correct for a student. It is no longer correct for you. He pointed at the first character. Mushin, no mind. The presence that acts without the interference of thought. This is the presence of the sword. You already have some of it which is why you passed your test. The second

3:50 hosin ordinary mind. The presence that remains identical whether the situation is trivial or life-ending. This is the presence of pressure. You do not yet have it. Your test was extraordinary. So you summoned something extraordinary to meet it. [music] That is not mastery. That is expensive. The third Metsuk, the way of looking, the presence that sees the whole rather than the part. Yamamoto sensei gave one further instruction about Metsuk that Teeshi initially resisted and later considered the most useful sentence of the three years. [music] When you cannot read a situation, he said, the problem is almost never that you are missing information. It is that you have decided in advance which information matters.

4:36 The farmer's visit had proved this exactly. Teeshi had decided before the man finished his first sentence that the important content was the dispute between the two families. Everything he attended to afterward was filtered through that decision. The man's hesitation, his repeated glances toward the gate, the specific family he avoided naming, all of it had been visible and none of it had been categorized as relevant because relevance had been settled before the observation began. Metsuk practiced properly delays that categorization. It allows the field to arrive before deciding what in the field matters. This is uncomfortable because deciding what matters is how a mind makes a situation manageable. and holding the decision open for even a few

5:23 additional seconds produces a specific kind of discomfort that most people resolve immediately by choosing a frame. The warriors who read situations well are not more perceptive in any raw sense. They simply tolerate that discomfort longer before collapsing the field into a conclusion. This is the presence of reading. You have almost none of it which is why you failed with the farmer. You were listening completely to his words and seeing nothing of what he was not saying. The fourth ma, the interval, the presence inside the space between things. This is the presence of timing and it is the hardest. Most warriors never reach it at all. Teeshi looked at the four characters and felt something close to despair. He had spent a year on a

6:09 mountain learning to be present. Now he was being told he had learned one quarter of one thing. Yamamoto sensei saw the expression and smiled. Good. That feeling is [music] accurate. Now we can begin. Teeshi asked the obvious question. How does a person know which presence a moment requires? Yamamoto sensei's answer was not satisfying at the time. You will know by failing. He said you will bring the wrong one. The situation will go badly and afterward you will understand which one it wanted. There is no shortcut. The knowing is built out of accumulated wrong choices. Examined honestly, Teeshi pointed out that this seemed inefficient. It is extremely inefficient. The master agreed. It is also the only method that

6:55 works. A student who is told in advance which presence fits which situation will apply the rule and stop looking. A student who discovers it through his own errors develops something the rule cannot give him, which is the ability to recognize a situation he has never encountered before. Principle one, mushin. The mind that does not interrupt. Mushin is the presence most people have heard of and the one they most consistently misunderstand. [music] The common translation is no mind, which suggests emptiness, a blank absence of thought. That is not what it describes. Mushin is a mind so completely unified with its action that there is no observer standing slightly apart from the doing, commenting on it while it happens. Teeshi had experienced this

7:42 during his final test. The katana had come toward him and his body had responded before any decision formed. He had assumed this was the peak of the teaching. Yamamoto sensei told him it was the entry fee. The master's demonstration was simple and humiliating. He handed Teeshi a boan and told him to strike. Teeshi struck cleanly and without hesitation exactly as he had been trained. The master deflected it easily. Again, [music] Yamamoto said, "But this time, before you strike, I want you to notice the moment your decision to strike forms." Teeshi struck again. This time, he caught it. A fractional instant, almost too small to name, in which some part of him registered the intention to move before the movement began. The gap was

8:28 tiny. The master had already begun deflecting before the blade had traveled a hands width. "That," Yamamoto said, is the gap I am reading. not your technique, the announcement your mind makes before your body follows. This is the mechanism underneath machine that most explanations skip. The divided mind does not simply waste energy. It broadcasts a swordsman whose intention forms as a separate event before his action is telegraphing that intention to anyone trained to read it. And every skilled opponent is trained to read it. Miyamoto Mousashi wrote about this directly in his discussion of timing and rhythm, describing how a warrior must strike without the strike being preceded by anything an opponent can perceive. He

9:13 was not describing speed. A fast strike preceded by a visible intention is slower functionally than a moderate strike that arrives with no warning at all. Teeshi's training in Mushin took the next 8 months and consisted almost entirely of repetition so extensive that decisions stopped preceding action. Not because he learned to hide his intention, because the intention and the action became a single event with nothing in between them to hide. The training itself was almost unbearably narrow. Yamamoto sensei reduced Teeshi's entire practice to a single cut repeated for hours a day for months. Not variations of the cut. The same cut from the same position at the same angle until the number of repetitions passed

9:58 into territory. Teeshi stopped counting. Around the fourth month, a change arrived that he could not describe to anyone at the time. The cut stopped feeling like something he was doing. There was no moment where he decided to begin and no moment where he observed himself beginning. There was simply the position and then the completed cut with nothing in between that he could point to as a decision. He reported this to the master expecting approval. Yamamoto sensei asked whether the same was true of his footwork, his guard, his recovery, [music] his breathing between repetitions. It was not. Each of those still had a decision inside it. And every one of those decisions was a gap that a trained opponent [music] could read. That is the honest scope of musheen as a practice. It applies only

10:45 to what has been drilled past the need for construction. And the number of things any person has actually drilled that far is much smaller than they believe. A swordsman with one technique in Mushin and 12 in conscious execution has one technique. This is also why mushin cannot be borrowed across domains. The presence that a master swordsman brings to his sword does not transfer to a conversation he has never had before, a decision he has never faced, or a problem whose shape is new. In unfamiliar territory, conscious deliberate thought is not a failure of presence. It is the correct tool, and abandoning it in the name of no mind is how confident people make catastrophic errors quickly. The practical version of this outside a training hall is narrower

11:30 than people expect. Mushin is not a state you can summon in a complex negotiation or a difficult conversation. It applies specifically to actions you have trained enough that they no longer require conscious construction. For most people in most situations, mushin is simply unavailable and reaching for it is a mistake. This was the first thing Teeshi learned about the four presences. Each one has a domain. Using mushin in a situation that requires deliberate thought is not advanced practice. It is recklessness with a respectable name. Principle two, Hoshin, the mind that does not escalate. Hosshin translates as ordinary mind and the ordinariness is the entire point.

12:15 Yamamoto sensei's explanation began with an observation about Teeshi's famous test. You were magnificent that morning, he said. You have never been that magnificent again. Do you know why? Teeshi did not. Because you spent something to be magnificent and you cannot spend it every day. You built a second self for that morning. A heightened version that could meet a heightened moment. Then the moment ended and the second self went away. That is not a warrior. That is a performance with good timing. The principle of Hosshin holds that a trained person should bring the same internal state to a life-threatening duel that they bring to sweeping a floor. Not because the duel does not matter. Because the elevated state most people summon for

13:00 important moments is itself a massive expenditure activated precisely when reserves matter most and the ordinary state was already sufficient. Teeshi tested this over the following year in a way that bothered him considerably. Yamamoto sensei began assigning him tasks without telling him which ones mattered. Some days he swept, some days he carried water. Some days a visiting swordsman arrived unannounced, and Teeshi was expected to spar with him immediately without preparation in the same clothes he had been sweeping in. The first several of these encounters went badly, not because Teeshi lacked skill, but because he arrived at them, still switching systems. His body was in the training yard while his internal

13:46 state was still catching up to the fact that this was now a serious moment. Somewhere in the sixth month, the switching stopped, not because he learned to switch faster because he stopped maintaining two states to switch between. Yamamoto sensei noted the change without comment for several weeks. When he finally addressed it, he said something Teeshi wrote down that night and kept for the rest of his life. The extraordinary mind is not stronger than the ordinary mind. It is simply louder and it costs more. When you learn that your ordinary mind was always enough, you stop paying for the loud one. There is a cost to the elevated state that most people never calculate because it arrives after the moment that required it. Teeshi had been magnificent on the morning of his test and

14:32 functionally useless for the two days that followed. And he had assumed this was normal recovery from an important event. It was not recovery. It was the bill for a state he had constructed and then dismantled. Yamamoto sensei's point was that the construction had never been necessary. The skills Teeshi brought to that courtyard were skills he already had on an ordinary Tuesday. The additional intensity added nothing to his technique. It added only the physiological expense of running a heightened system [music] and that expense had to be paid somewhere which is why it appeared in the two days afterward. Warriors who fought repeatedly could not afford this arrangement. A man who needed a special state for every dangerous encounter would be depleted before the third

15:18 encounter of a campaign. The ones who survived long careers were the ones for whom a dangerous encounter required no additional internal machinery than an ordinary morning because nothing extra ever got switched on. The uncomfortable implication is that most people's sense of rising to an occasion is not a strength. It is evidence of a gap between their ordinary state and their capable state. And the gap itself is the problem. Closing it does not mean becoming permanently heightened. It means discovering that the ordinary state properly trained was capable the entire time. This is the presence for pressure not calm summoned in a crisis which is always late and always expensive. But the refusal to build a separate crisis self at all. Principle

16:05 three. Metsuk. The eyes that see the whole. Metsuk is the way of looking and it is the principle Teeshi had been missing the morning he failed with the farmer. The Japanese marshall tradition distinguishes sharply between looking at something and seeing a situation. A swordsman who fixes his gaze on his opponent's blade sees the blade and misses the shoulder that will move first. One who fixes on the eyes sees intention but loses distance. Metsuke is a soft, wide, unfixed attention that takes in the entire field without locking onto any single element within it. Mousashi address this in the book of five rings with one of his more frequently quoted lines, describing the need to see distant things as if they were close and to take a distanced view of things that are close. The

16:51 instruction sounds mystical. It is optical and practical. It describes a specific quality of perception in which nothing in the visual field captures the attention completely which is precisely what allows everything in the field to register. Teshi's failure with the farmer had been a failure of Metsuk and Yamamoto sensei walked him through it in detail. You heard every word he said, the master told him. Tell me what his hands were doing. Teeshi did not know. Tell me which family he mentioned first and which one he mentioned more often and which one he did not name at all until you asked him directly. Teeshi did not know these things either. He had been fully present to the man's words and completely blind to the man's situation. That is the danger of the

17:38 presence you learned on the mountain. Yamamoto said it fixes. It gives everything to one thing in stillness. That is correct. In a room with a person who is not telling you the whole truth. It is worse than distraction because a distracted man at least glances around. The training that followed was unlike anything Teeshi had done before. Yamamoto sensei would place him in a corner of a busy room and afterward ask him to describe everything that had occurred. Not the conversation he had been part of, but the room, who entered, who left, who did not speak to whom, what had changed between the beginning and the end. For months he failed at this constantly. The habit of fixing attention on one thing was deeply built and it had been deliberately reinforced

18:23 by a year of meditation training that rewarded exactly that fixing. The shift when it came was not an improvement in concentration. It was a loosening. He stopped trying to attend to everything and started allowing everything to arrive. The distinction sounds like word play. In practice, it is the difference between a net that catches and a hand that grabs. Yamamoto sensei gave one further instruction about Mitsuk that Teeshi initially resisted and later considered the most useful sentence of the three years. When you cannot read a situation, he said, the problem is almost never that you are missing information. It is that you have decided in advance which information matters. The farmer's visit had proved this exactly. Teeshi had decided before the

19:11 man finished his first sentence that the important content was the dispute between the two families. Everything he attended to afterward was filtered through that decision. The man's hesitation, his repeated glances toward [music] the gate, the specific family he avoided naming, all of it had been visible and none of it had been categorized as relevant because relevance had been settled before the observation began. Metsuk practiced properly delays that categorization. It allows the field to arrive before deciding what in the field matters. This is uncomfortable because deciding what matters is how a mind makes a situation manageable. And holding the decision open for even a few additional seconds produces a specific kind of discomfort

19:57 that most people resolve immediately by choosing a frame. The warriors who read situations well are not more perceptive in any raw sense. They simply tolerate that discomfort longer before collapsing the field into a conclusion. This is the presence of reading. It has almost nothing in common with the presence of the sword. And a warrior who has only trained the second will consistently misread every room he walks into while believing he is paying excellent attention. Principle four. Ma the presence inside the interval. Ma is the space between. In Japanese architecture, it is the empty room that gives the filled rooms their meaning. In music, it is the silence that shapes the notes. In combat, it is the distance and

20:42 the pause, both of which are strategic rather than neutral. Yamamoto sensei introduced this principle last because it cannot be understood until the other three are in place. He told Teeshi to attack him and then without moving defeated him four times in succession by doing nothing at all. Each time Teeshi committed to a strike [music] and each time the master simply was not where the strike arrived, having read the distance a fraction earlier than Teeshi had. [music] You are fighting the man, the master said. You must fight the space. The principle of Mah holds that the interval between two things is itself a thing with its own properties which can be managed, extended, collapsed or used. Two swordsmen at a given distance have a

21:27 specific set of available actions. Change the distance by the width of a hand and the entire set changes for both of them. The warrior who is aware of the interval controls what is possible for both people in it. The warrior who is aware only of his opponent is always reacting to a set of possibilities that someone else selected. Teeshi's training in Ma was the longest of the four and the least visible from outside. Much of it consisted of standing still. Yamamoto sensei would position him at a specific distance from a practice post and ask him what was available to him there. Then move him a half step closer and ask again, then a half step back. Slowly across months, Teeshi developed an awareness of distance as a live and changing property rather than as empty

22:14 space between himself and a target. The same principle extended past combat almost immediately, and this surprised him more than anything else in the 3 years. A conversation has the pause before a response changes what the response means. A silence held slightly too long reverses the direction of a negotiation. Yamamoto sensei demonstrated this on him repeatedly and Teeshi never once saw it coming because he was attending to the words and not to the intervals between them. There is a detail about Ma that Yamamoto sensei saved until Teeshi had already spent months on the distance training because he said it would be meaningless earlier. The interval is not neutral ground. He told him it belongs to someone. In every

22:59 exchange, one person is managing the distance and the other is accepting whatever distance he finds himself in. The second person can be technically superior in every measurable way and will still be operating inside a situation the first person designed. Teeshi tested this against students who were clearly better than him in raw skill and found that if he controlled the interval, their superiority frequently could not be brought to bear. A swordsman whose best technique requires a specific distance is a swordsman who can be kept away from his own best technique indefinitely by someone paying attention to the space rather than to him. The same principle in a conversation is what makes some people impossible to rush and others permanently reactive. The person who controls the pacing of an exchange

23:46 controls which responses are available inside it. Most people never notice this is happening because they are attending entirely to content which is exactly the level at which the pacing does its work unobserved. Ma is difficult to train because it has no visible technique attached to it. There is no form to repeat, no cut to drill. There is only a slowly developing awareness of something that was always present and never looked at directly. This is the presence of timing. It is the last one learned and the first one lost under pressure. Which is why it is rare even among people who have trained for decades. The rehearsed calm. What the teaching does not warn you about. There is a specific failure that arrives only for people who have

24:31 genuinely done this work and no text in the tradition warns about it directly because it does not look like a failure while it is happening. We call it the rehearsed calm. After roughly 2 years of the four presences, Teeshi noticed something he did not want to examine. His stillness had become reliable. In every situation, his breathing settled, his posture steadied, his attention widened. People around him commented on it. New students at the dojo spoke about his composure the way Teeshi had once spoken about Yamamoto sensei's. And somewhere inside it, a small thing had gone wrong. He was performing the calm, not consciously and not falsely, but the state had become a thing he produced

25:16 rather than a thing he was in. It arrived on schedule. It looked correct from every angle, and it had quietly stopped costing him anything, which was the clue. Real presence costs something in the moment it is chosen. It requires the small specific effort of declining to leave a situation mentally when leaving would be easier. When that cost disappears entirely and the calm still appears on Q, what remains is usually not presence. It is a well practiced shape of presence running automatically, and it will hold until the day it meets something it was not shaped for. Teeshi found this out when a student he had been teaching for a year left the dojo without explanation. His composure held perfectly through the conversation, through the departure, through the

26:02 following week. It was flawless and it was hollow and he understood with real discomfort that he had not actually been present for any of it. He had been present shaped. Yamamoto sensei when he finally raised it did not seem surprised. Every teaching becomes a technique eventually. He said this is not a flaw in the teaching. It is what happens when something is practiced long enough. The only remedy is to notice and noticing is itself the return. The mechanism behind this is worth understanding because it explains why the trap catches serious practitioners specifically and leaves casual ones alone. Anything practiced consistently becomes more automatic. This is the entire point of practice [music] and it is not a problem in itself. A swordsman

26:49 wants his guard to be automatic. The difficulty arises when the thing being automated is not a movement but a state. Because a state that runs automatically is no longer a choice. And presence that is not chosen in the moment is structurally different from presence that is the difference is invisible from outside and nearly invisible from inside. Both versions look calm. Both produce steady breathing and a settled posture. The only reliable difference is the cost which is why Teeshi noticed it as an absence rather than a presence. The state kept arriving and it had stopped requiring anything from him. Yamamoto sensei's remedy was deliberately small. He did not tell Teeshi to abandon the practice or rebuild it. [music] He told him to notice once a day whether the calm he

27:35 was in had been chosen in that moment or had simply appeared. No correction beyond the noticing. Within weeks the automatic version began failing to appear on schedule, which Teeshi initially experienced as regression. It was not. The shape had loosened enough that the actual choice was available again. And the actual choice, unlike the shape, cost something every time. The rehearsed calm is the specific trap that waits at the end of this particular road. It catches people who have done the work honestly, which is what makes it difficult to see. The tell is always the same. The presence has stopped costing anything, and it still arrives on time. Four presences and [music] one that only looks like presents. Mushin acts without the announcement that

28:21 precedes action and applies only to what you have trained past the need for thought. Hoosin refuses to build a separate self for important moments because the ordinary one was always enough. Metsuke sees the whole field by declining to fix on any part of it. Ma treats the interval between things as the thing itself and the rehearsed calm asks you to check whether your composure still costs you anything or whether it has quietly become a shape you produce. Teeshi spent three years on these after already passing the test that made him samurai and he did not consider himself finished at the end of them. He considered himself equipped which is a different thing and the difference mattered to him for the rest of his life. There is one more thing worth saying about all four of these together and it only becomes visible once a

29:08 person has some access to each. They are not a sequence. Teeshi initially assumed they were levels, that Mushin was beginner and Ma was advanced, and that a master would eventually operate from the highest one permanently. That is not how they work. A master moves between them continuously, sometimes within a single exchange because a single exchange contains moments that require each of them. The opening of a conversation usually wants Metsuk. The moment something unexpected lands usually wants hey Jooshin. A trained response to a familiar problem wants mushin. And the decision about when to speak, when to wait, and how long to let something sit once ma throughout underneath all the others. This is what Yamamoto sensei

29:54 meant by equipped. Not a higher state achieved permanently but four distinct capacities available and the developed judgment to know which one the next 30 seconds is asking for. Here is what this means for you which is the only reason the story is worth telling at all. You have almost certainly been told to be present. [music] It is the most repeated advice in existence and it is not wrong. It is incomplete in a specific way that leaves people frustrated. They do the thing they were told to do and the situation still goes badly and they conclude that presence does not work or that they are bad at it. Usually neither is true. Usually they brought stillness to a situation that required sight or they summoned an elevated state for a moment that only needed their ordinary

30:41 one or they attended carefully to the words and missed the interval where the whole conversation actually turned. Four presences. The work is not learning to arrive. The work is knowing which one the moment in front of you is asking for. Which of the four is missing from how you handle pressure right now? Not the one that sounds most impressive, the one you can already feel you avoid. Drop one word in the comments. Ma, if you recognize which presence you have been reaching for in situations that needed a different one entirely, Yamamoto sensei taught Teeshi that the sword is a tool and presence is the weapon. What he did not say until much later when Teeshi was ready to hear it is that presence is not one weapon. It is four. And carrying

31:26 only one of them into every situation is how skilled people lose fights they should have won.

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