Dan Djurdjevic

My favourite passage in the Hagakure 1 is the one about the 10 blind 2 masseuses. I have copied it below: “Once a group of ten blind masseuses were traveling together in the mountains, and when they began to pass along the top of a precipice, they all became very cautious, their legs shook, and they were in general struck with terror. Just then the leading man stumbled and fell off the cliff. Those that were left all wailed, ‘Ahh, Ahh! How piteous!’ But the masseuse who had fallen yelled up from below, ‘Don’t be afraid. Although I fell, it was nothing. I am now rather at ease. Before falling I kept thinking “What will I do if I fall” and there was no end to my anxiety. But now I’ve settled down. If the rest of you want to be at ease, fall quickly!’” – Hagakure (Book of the Samurai), Yamamoto Tsunetomo I first read that in 1985. It's a shame it hadn't sunken in by the time of the Decadal Gashuku (training camp) held in the first 2 weeks of 1990. All the fretting I did lead...

It's hard to believe we are rapidly approaching the 20 th anniversary of the Decadal Gashuku, a martial arts training camp held by Lao Shi Bob Davies at Midmar Dam in Kwazulu Natal from 3 to 13 January 1990. It was an international event comprising 2 separate 5 day courses. Some of us (the "decadal participants") were there for both. For those unfamiliar with the gashuku (training camp) concept, it typically features 8 hours of training/instruction per day. The decadal participants were in for a treat; we would have 10 hours instead. It was the theme - 10 lots of everything. To better fill you in on the picture I should rewind a little. My wife Maureen and I were newlyweds and I had freshly graduated from law. We wanted to go overseas for an adventure but we didn't have 2 pennies to scratch together. I had a job lined up, but wouldn't start till February. So we decided to take out a loan. Given my degree and my upcoming job, the banks fell over each othe...

In 1991 I had a visit from one of my former karate classmates in South Africa, Peter Banks. Peter started training shortly after I did, but where I was a fresh-faced teenager, Peter was already in his late 30s. And where I was pencil thin, Peter was not. To be blunt, he had a sizable middle-aged spread. Imagine my surprise when, almost a decade later, Peter turned up at our dojo looking like an iron man. The paunch was no more. In its place was the proverbial "six pack". It was something I never imagined possible with Peter. "How did you do it?" I asked.      He replied: "Running with Bob". He was, of course, referring to our teacher Lao shi Bob Davies. I immediately understood how Peter had achieved his remarkable transformation. If you could keep up with our teacher you couldn't have a paunch. The 2 concepts were mutually exclusive. I cast my mind back to my visit to Lao shi Bob the year before. My wife and I had arrived at his house in Du...

Introduction Recently the subject of healthcare reform has been very much in the press in the United States. A friend alerted me to the video below of Mike Rogers' opening statement in relation to healthcare proposals that are before the US Congress: Congressman Mike Roger's opening statement about the healthcare proposals before the US congress I think Mr Rogers' comments are quite telling in as much as they summarise the reason why the US healthcare system is as it is today. "Punishment" vs. "service delivery" focus Significantly, Mr Rogers talks about 85% of the population being "punished" by healthcare proposals intended to benefit the other 15%. I think it is important to take note of his reference to "punishment" since it reveals how he approaches the whole issue of healthcare and the government's role in providing that service. It seems to me that his attitude is very much "punishment focused" (as I will discuss ...

"These hands were made for fighting, not for music," the artist says ironically, lifting his shovel-like palms and meaty digits. I look down at my own impossibly long, slender and delicate fingers. Then I notice the oversized and calloused knuckles. I see how one finger slants at an acute angle. I feel the once-broken, now-healed bone that juts sharply out of the back of my right hand. And I wonder how the reverse came to be true. Copyright © 2009 Dejan Djurdjevic

A big, brooding figure he was. He would come home from work and sit in the kitchen of our old weatherboard house in Footscray, Melbourne, dressed only in his underpants and a singlet, using the big breadknife to smear slabs of unsalted butter on thick hunks of bread. I would sit nervously next to him while he buttered the end crust for me. He was also the menacing figure who, belt in hand, towered over my crayons and me, glaring at my artwork scribbled on the wall or in his precious encyclopedia. He was the guy who let me tag along with him into town on Saturday mornings, saying almost nothing. He was my old man. Copyright © 2009 Dejan Djurdjevic

James was like a brother to me, only he lived in a two-storey mansion big enough to get lost in, with distant, preoccupied parents and a brooding, venomous, older brother, where I lived in a cramped, prefabricated asbestos house with a family given to screaming matches, raucous laughter or both. Whenever I went to James' house we would dine alone (his parents having eaten already, his brother nowhere to be seen), small portions neatly spaced on large plates, pristine cutlery clinking on crisp-white porceline. At our place James and I would sit with the family, crowded around our chipped linoleum table in the kitchen, digging into the over-used pressure cooker for pale, gelatinous chicken that fell off the bone. I still remember how James, a rake of a boy with a tousled mop of hair, would be completely absorbed in his meal, greedily gnawing at the palid chicken with greasy fingers, pausing occasionally to grin, food caught in his teeth. For many years later I would cringe at the mem...