My city will never be the same, I would walk into a 7/11 on Wilshire Blvd and get a courtesy greeting from a deshi wearing a gi, whom I had never met. Walk into Dee's Coffe shop on Santa Monica Blvd and overhear grown men aggressively talking about kata over greasy eggs. From a local tavern under the city street lamps I would hear the laughter a warrior women spilling out into the salty evening air, belly aching over the guffaw of an earlier class...

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My city will never be the same, an American flag waving in the West
Winds as sand flies in the air and loud thumps rock the Pacific Coastline...

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A formation of bushi warriors locking in the energy and allowing the
observer to feel the reverberation of body and soul...

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The sweat of flesh and bone and muscle and blood pounding one ton of wood sitting on pillars of concrete and banging them lower and lower into the earth.

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The Gloss of satin accumulates drips of perspiration and white stone walls chip with each primal kia. Two coats of polish, one for the freshly painted
deck, the other for the human spirit.

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My community has been touched by a certain group of people who can have that affect on a city, a rare group, a powerful group, a polite group, a dedicated group, but most importantly a "group".

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This group was the group who came to my city and changed the lives of everyone they came into contact with. Why? Because that is what happens when this group get's together. Why? Because this group has a code and that code penetrates people, places and process.

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And this group came together to honor the Master and welcome the Hanshi and now we must honor the Hanshi, because the Master has spoken and that was his last order of business...

 

-- Sensei Chris Barnes

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