The Niagara River looks powerful as it flows slowly, mile after mile. In an instant, without any hint of what is coming, it reaches the falls and explodes into thundering torrents and sprays as it crashes into the rocks below. It roils and spins and settles down, forming a slow, deep river once again.

So what is the water really like? What is the true nature of the water? Deep and peaceful? Chaotic and violent? Misty? Powerful?

The quality of the water is subject to conditions. Under some conditions it is one way. When conditions change it is another way. It adapts to the conditions as they change.

What is our true nature? Turbulent? Peaceful? Wise? Impulsive?

We also adapt to the conditions in which we find ourselves. The difference between ourselves and water is that we can determine the conditions in which we live.

We do not have to be turbulent, angry, greedy, stupid, helpless, or hurt. We can choose, and we can act. If we learn what to do, gain the skills we need, and then acting wisely, we can create the best conditions for our own lives.

Unexpected conditions will arise. One day we may go over the falls. But if we have trained wisely and well, we will recognize the conditions for what they are, adapt to them and accommodate them, without fear or clinging.

When people came to my dojo, sometimes they would tell me what kind of person they were. They would say, “I am not flexible.” Or “I am very strong.”

Whatever words they use to describe themselves, whatever attributes they thought they possessed or lacked, the fact is that none of it accurately described them. It described their current condition. If they attributed these characteristics to themselves as if they were fixed, they would ultimately lose their strength (by complacency) or fail to overcome their weaknesses (by failing to make effort.)

If, on the other hand, they entered into training with wisdom, that is to say, entered into a setting in which the conditions furthered their own inner and outer development, they would get the results they wanted. They would become who they wished to be. But only by acknowledging that our “true nature” does not describe some permanent inherent characteristic which we possess, but the fact that we are subject to conditions and reflect a universe – of our own making or otherwise.

Once a year we would ring the huge Chinese iron bell in our dojo. 

For the rest of the year, the bell would remain silent at the front of our dojo. During every practice, every class, every meditation session it stood still and quiet, suspended on its stand.

Then once a year, on New Year’s Eve, the deep sound of the bell would resonate through our bodies, through our dojo, through our building, and ring out across the whole neighborhood. The bell has no nature of creating a great sound. But when the conditions are right, it rings out loud and strong.  When the conditions are withdrawn, silence returns.

It works the same way in our own hearts and minds.  We create the conditions in which we live. This is how we become who we are.