Kevin Keitoshi Casey - Ninja Mind: Harnessing the Mental Strength and Physical Abilities of the Ninjutsu Masters

CHAPTER 1

The First Encounter

C lad in the traditional white of the Japanese yamabushi mountain shamans, I picked my way carefully over the riverside boulders. In future years, this site would be a sacred place known as Shin-Togakure, but that future was forming today. On this day, it was a wild thing, unknown and unnamed to me and the others.

I carefully repeated the power invocation mantra my teacher, Stephen K. Hayes, had taught us the day before. He had given us a mantra of a couple dozen syllables in both Japanese and Sanskrit, and I was determined to retain the exotic sounds long enough to shout them into the waterfall nestled deep in these mountains.

I had searched for a qualified teacher of real-life magic my whole life. I had unexplained psychic experiences from earliest childhood, and I was taught meditation at age seven. I spent my adolescence and early adulthood tracking down various shamans and spiritual teachers, but none of the people I met had the right balance of sanity, authenticity, and spiritual depth to command my attention. Then I met Stephen K. Hayes.

Now I was about to experience an initiation into a truly ancient magical lineage. This was not a New Age religion or a reconstructed rite based on imagination. My newfound teacher had traveled to the last places on Earth that hold this knowledge and trained in traditions with unbroken lineages going back tens of generations.

An-Shu Stephen K. Hayes performs consecration ceremonies at the dragons Mouth waterfall on Shin-Togakure. Photo by Kim Stahl

I looked out across the small group gathered to take part in the ritual. Most of us trained together at the martial arts school several hours drive east of these mountains. Some were senior teachers of the ninja tradition, visiting from across the country. Ostensibly, the weekend was a high-level To-Shin Do martial arts seminar granting some insight into the more subtle secrets of the ninja fighting tradition. We got all thatand more.

One by one, we crawled across the rocks to the base of the snow-melt waterfall cascading down. We received final instructions, on how to walk on the slippery rocks, how to breathe in the icy water, and how to handle the impact and cold of the waterfall itself. We were warned that to fall here, so far from medical assistance, could be a life-altering or even life-ending event. We were given the chance to turn back, but I was certainly not about to do that.

A very powerful man stepped into the waterfall ahead of me, a long-time student of Stephen K. Hayes and a great teacher in his own right. He shouted the mantra from beneath the water like some kind of mythological deity, passionate and unperturbed by the force of the experience. Thats what I want to be like, I thought.

Then it was my turn. I stepped forward onto the rocks, carefully balancing. The swift water was destabilizing, but I picked my way carefully to the appointed spot. I repeated the mantra under my breath twice more as I approached, to lock it in. I wanted to say it seven times under the waterfall.

An-Shu Hayes looked me in the eye as I arrived. Are you ready? I nodded and then wished I had the voice to speak aloud. He grabbed my hands and I made the shape of the mystical hand posture, the mudra, associated with the practice. He mumbled an invocation over my hands and squeezed them firmly before sending me forward.

I stepped into the waterfall fully intending to shout the mantra like my role model, but my breath was immediately sucked out of me. Despite all the warnings, my own confidence, and my substantial outdoors experience, I lost my bearings and my voice when the water hit my head.

I held the mudra shape with my hands and focused on it so as not to lose myself. I knew a trick, I remembered, and angled my face downward so that I could draw a careful breath of air despite the cascade of water over my head. The noise of the water drumming on my skull obscured all possible outside sound, my eyes were closed, and the cold sent my skin numb. I was cut off from the rest of the universe, immersed in the stream.

When the breath was drawn, I started the mantra. Namaku My breath came out in a squeak. I couldnt even hear myself. I didnt want that. I wanted the world to hear me. I let the breath out with a sigh and carefully drew another, aware that if I didnt make my moment soon, the assistants would haul me out of the water before I passed out.

I held the full breath for a moment and raised my head in the water. I didnt need to bow my head anymore. I shouted the mantra, and I got it out intact. Somehow I found air even in the stream. I drew another breath and shouted it again, louder. I knew that I wasnt going to make it to seven repetitions, so I drew the last breath as deeply as I could and shouted with everything I could muster. I felt the mantra from deep down in my chest cavity, vibrating tangibly beyond mere sound.

I pulled back from the water triumphant, stepped out into the air, and shook my head with a roar. The world came back with the cheers and applause of my friends.

Suddenly, the water wasnt cold anymore. The waterfall seemed small, and I was on the other side of the line, with those who had passed through the experience. Mr. Hayes was there, grinning at me, and I knew I had found my path.

CHAPTER 10

Hanzos Journey: Prologue

S ince the dawn of time, there have been men who chased legends, men who scoffed at legends, and men who became legends. The first are the true believers, who imagine themselves loyal by holding the faith, but who never become the object of their faith, always yearning for a time long past. The second are the intellectuals, the scholars, who imagine themselves the smartest, the holders of special knowledge, but who cannot put their knowledge to use, always yearning for a more perfect time to act. Lastly are the conquerors, the ones who strive boldly, who tackle the ambiguities of life and the terror of personal power. Their path is the least comfortable of all, painfully aware of lack, yet they become the very source of faith and knowledge.

Hanzo set down the scroll for a moment, and the last few words hung heavy in the air. The source of faith and knowledge, he whispered again. What is it?

Beneath the kanji characters already read was a simple drawing of a mountain in the center of an island. The caption read The Great Mt. Meru, center of the universe.

He had heard of the legend of Mt. Meru, the mountain that holds up the universe and the home of the gods. Many of the great heroes of the past were said to have visited Mt. Meru and received personal instruction in the kuji, the nine mystical powers of the ninja. He had often dreamed of learning such powers instead of merely memorizing sutra passages and quotations from past Masters. The stories never included an actual location for the mountain, however.

You dont need to think about the scrolls. Just copy them, said the Temple Master from behind him.

Hanzo jumped and snatched up his brush. Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. He quickly shuffled the Mt. Meru scroll behind some others.