Cain closed his eyes and felt his thighs burn as if they were on fire. The pain, intermixed with Japan’s natural humidity, caused him to continue sweating profusely.
Whap! The sound of the bamboo training sword hitting the back of a nearby student’s knee broke the silence.
Everybody but the sensei had stowed their shinais, Cain observed.
The sensei continued walking behind the students, analyzing their kiba dachi stance and ensuring that they were squatting as low as they could.
Cain’s muscular thighs began to quiver and swell. He felt the lactic acid building up in his quadriceps. He was exhausted physically and mentally. Sweat dripped into his eyes and the salt burned. Why the hell did I agree to this abuse? he cried out internally. With the whack of each bamboo strike, a flashback popped into his thoughts. The sensei swung his forty-two-inch bamboo training sword at another student, and the flashback popped up again. Cain had depleted his sweat reserves. No more sweat dripped from his body. He was mentally exhausted, and he started to feel nauseous. His mind wandered in slow motion, as if he was seeing an old film clip on an eight-millimeter tape.
Christmas 2004, in Thailand. He’s standing in four-foot-high water and furiously banging on his hotel door to break it open in order to rescue his family. He bangs harder and harder and collapses in the water, gasping for air but sucking in the contaminated salt water. His eyes are open, but he can’t see through the muddy water. His lungs fill with water as he screams for help. He’s drowning. Everything slowly goes black. Then complete silence. No more sounds of rushing water or banging.
Cain awakened, coughing for air. He was on the tatami mat looking up. Standing over him were two monks. The sensei continued swinging his bamboo staff, but the sound was inaudible. Cain saw one of the monks speaking but could not hear anything. Slowly the sounds came back into range. The monk had a set of kind eyes that sparkled. Cain sensed a humanity from this old man who comforted him. Then all the sound came back when the monk placed his hand on Cain’s shoulder.
“Mountains exist for you to climb,” the monk said slowly in English, “not for you to carry.”
Chapter 54
Umiko ran up to Cain and kneeled beside him. “Are you okay?”
She appeared blurry in his vision. “Yeah, I think so. I must be a little dehydrated.” He massaged his right temple. “I got a migraine. It blurs my vision sometimes. Not sure if it’s from the migraine or from the dehydration.”
“Sensei just gave us one hour personal time for tea.”
“That sounds great right now.”
“I agree,” Umiko said. “He was training us very hard today.”
Umiko and Cain walked the flat stone path toward a more private area near the garden.
“Please sit and relax,” she instructed. “I will be back with the tea.”
As Cain waited for Umiko, he looked around the Zen retreat. Perfectly manicured bonsai trees, raked granite, and a man-made pond with koi fish were nearby. He had a panoramic view of Mount Fuji towering over Japan’s sacred landscape. This is such a tranquil place, he thought. I’ll come back someday, without the sensei.
Umiko returned, holding a wooden tray with the tea-making essentials. She kneeled in a seiza position and began the ceremonial ritual of preparing the tea. She placed a spoonful of matcha green tea powder in his ornate bowl. She poured about four ounces of hot water into the bowl. She used a bamboo whisk brush to vigorously stir the powder and water together until the green tea became frothy.
Cain watched her closely, impressed by her level of perfection and attention to detail. He felt that she was honorable and someone who would never betray his trust.
She cupped the bowl with both hands and presented it to Cain.
Cain wanted to chug it, but it was too hot. So he sipped it as quickly as he could. He felt himself getting better with each gulp. “Thank you, Umi. Your tea is a lifesaver. My vision is getting sharper and I can tell my headache is fading.”
Umiko smiled while performing a half bow. “Matcha green tea has special powers to heal the body,” she said. “It’s very good for you.”
“The only tea we drink back home is sweet tea, loaded with the power of sugar.” Cain smiled. “You remember that tea I had at Nawlins—the one you tasted?”
“Yes. Sweet tea is good”—Umiko paused—“for dessert.”