I once read about Jean-Henri Fabre, the entomologist. He wrote beautiful texts, one of them on a beetle rolling its ball of dung, the jewel of his day, the food for his seedling. One other beetle comes to cross his road and joins his efforts to his. The first beetle happens to fall and loose control of the ball and the befriended beetle to rush off with his new treasure, not to be shared.
Jean-Henri Fabre was famous as an entomologist. Most of his observations were done in his garden or on the other side of its wall, in the backcountry of Montpellier, where thyme, marjoram and lavander grow.
Jean-Henri Fabre inspired me immediatly although I did not know why. Now I understand that he could grasp the most universal teachings when looking down at the dust of the path, at the shrubs growing beside his daily walk, at last night’s rain drying out under the burning sun of Montpellier and the thirsty wind flowing in from the Mediterranian Sea.
In the same way, I see research in Aikido. I named my school Ringenkai which indulges to see through the teaching, within and without. I like to dig the lessons given to me by my master, Noro Masamichi sensei. I am in no need to run away from them.
So do I understand these words: “Welcome the light of the instant to come.”