🇯🇵 Ronin

Hello Adventurers, 

The following isn’t intended to be a provocative statement nor a controversial hot take…so here it goes: I don’t believe anything — in and of itself — has any meaning whatsoever (excluding suffering and the moral implications of such). And that’s not because I’m a negative nihilist nor a seasonally bah humbuggin’ out curmudgeon like Ebenezer Scrooge…I promise I’m neither! Yes, I’m a punk rocker — but I’m more inspired by the aspirational Bad Brains’s song Attitude or by the optimistic Gorilla Biscuits’ song Start Today (believe me when I say that the PMA punk rock shit is my jam…not its dark, destructive or depressing three chord counterparts) — plus, I paradoxically love Christmas (you can fact check that last claim with my fam).

So what’s the deal? Well, I feel the way I do because I subscribe to Yuval Noah Hariri’s framing of fictions as being key drivers of human societies. Said another way, us humanoids collectively give things meaning through the stories we tell — and accept — about things (which in turn inspires cooperation amongst some…and conflict with others). See…not wholly / holy all that bad, right?

Like, this year I have been profoundly fortunate to marathon myself to some of the most sacred and/or holy places on the planet; ones in Chile, Morocco, Egypt, Türkiye, Israel, Palestine, Vatican City, Malta, India, Thailand, Mongolia, and Korea (to name a few). And I go to these religious and/or worship-y places because I’m genuinely interested in history, politics, philosophy, anthropology, and sociology…and because I like to study how we give our lives meaning (as well as what we use to achieve this aim). Furthermore — and this is real talk — I often hit this spiritual stuff ‘cause my marathons need destinations in order to stitch a route together! Without ‘em, I’m aimless (read into that what you will). ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyhoo, I atheistically visit all these things in good faith — no pun intended — to get up close to ‘em, to show ‘em the requisite respect they deserve, and to follow their protocols by way of performing their specific rituals…because maybe, just maybe they’ll activate something inside of me (like, something I’m not getting — or understanding — from afar).

And with all due respect — and potentially to your disappointment — none of these marathonic pilgrimages have remade me yet (although I deeply appreciate how much wisdom and variance in worldviews these types of faith-y and funky places have, and offer). And just to be clear — because faith is extremely personal (and thus a subject that warrants the utmost sensitivity) — this isn’t because I think I’ve done a better job at figuring out life or the afterlife (I haven’t…I’m too dumb) nor because I think the teachings associated with these places / religions are bad or wrong (they’re not…they’re just not for me…once again, I’m prolly too dumb for ‘em).

Like, Jerusalem is incredible, the call to prayer ricocheting ‘round Amman’s many valleys is magical, the interior of Saint John’s Co-Cathedral in Valletta is stunning, the wats in Bangkok are spectacular, and the colourful temples in snowy / hilly Ulaanbaatar are extraordinary. And better yet, is observing the deeply faithful practitioners in these very places having strong emotional and/or revelatory reactions to them…it is so so so beautiful — and powerful — to see (I’m being totally serious, and even more sincere).

So what gives? Well, some of these places nearly converted me by virtue of their architectural merits…but ultimately didn’t…because of story. TBH, I think I’m just too punk — or vengeful — for conventional religion. Like, much of it has sweet intentions…but I’m simply too full of piss and vinegar (ergo a brute).

So am I man with no book — or no scroll — or no oral tradition? Technically, yes…however, there is this one place — which isn’t religious per se (tho it happens to exist on some religious grounds) — that itself is the ending / endpoint of an old and wild tale…that continues to inspire deep reverence among many…as it maintains a cult-like status for how to conduct one’s nasty business in life.

And shocker…it happens to be my favourite place on the planet — because it exemplifies a ‘bad intentions code’ which permits you to be a bad-ass motherfucker (but only after you’ve been formally aggrieved) — and thus the Marathon Earth Challenge had to end there on its last stop abroad (it’s just so on brand for this project, nahmean?).

Anyhoo, this entire issue of the newsletter is an examination — and narrative interpretation or re-imagination — of the Akō Gishi Graves in Japan. Let’s get into it…with swords out…because like punk rockers or Ronins, it is time to stick it to the fucking man,

- Ben Pobjoy

P.S. The ‘December batch’ of Pobjoy Postcards joined me on a Tokyo marathon to the graves of the 47 Ronin...before being posted from Japan. This is the final mailing, and it was a huge privilege to write you postcards all year-long…from the far corners of our truly incredible planet.

Lastly, this issue of the newsletter is entirely dedicated to someone stanky I cannot name publicly (because I gotta respect their medical privacy). This person has battled debilitating physical pain for close to a decade — and they know who they are — and have shown me what tenacity and perseverance is. This specific human being has personified the tenets of Bushido…even if they don’t see this with dry eyes…and despite them peacefully presenting as zen, I know them to be a true and noble warrior at their core. As such, I bow down.

2023 TREK TRACKER

Where in the world...record am I?

• Countries visited: 70

• Flights taken: 75

• Kilometres flown: 139,643

• Marathons completed: 238

• Kilometres trekked by foot: 11,264.2

• Total kilometres trekked since 2015: 74,356

RAPID WEEKLY RECAP

A speedy synopsis for time-crunched readers

• The Wildest Thing: When the mission is critical, no obstacle will stand in our way😤

• The Biggest Obstacle: The self-limiting doubt(s) in our minds…for they require the most courage to behead🫣

• The Lesson Learned: The missions that may kill us are in fact the ones that make us feel most alive😶‍🌫️

FIELD NOTES: AKŌ GISHI GRAVES, JAPAN

All of us knew it was always gonna end here

Vengeance. That word. It has such a good mouth feel…and it sounds exactly like what it represents; comeuppance served cold. Anecdotally, it also happens to be the name of Tragedy’s best record…which I believe to be the greatest hardcore punk album of all time; it’s just so vicious and violent.

And that album was fresh on my mind in 2019 when I returned to Japan to revisit the Akō Gishi Graves, being resting grounds for some Ronins that are synonymous with vengeance. Why? Well, because the first track from Tragedy’s Vengeance was my walk-out music for a boxing match in Toronto…where I got a second round TKO victory (which hospitalized my opponent) — that I executed in front of a crowd of hundreds (which included my wife…whom I got into an argument with after my win)…on the night before I hopped a plane to fly to Tokyo with her to start our honeymoon…in a 24 hour span of ‘fight and flight’ where I chucked a marathon into the mix for good measure too (done to spite my opponent and make things harder for myself)…before I marathoned to pay my respects to the Akōroshi a few days later at Sengaku-ji in Tokyo. I know all this reads as bullshit…but it ain’t fiction; it’s a real story…hence the hyperlinks supplied as evidence. Alone, this paragraph reads as a flex — or a boast at worst — but’ll be contextualized if you read this whole issue of the newsletter (so hopefully I don’t lose you…by knocking you out with boredom before then).

Anyhoo, I already knew that Japan’s relationship to violence — like mine — was strange and fucked-up…because I had visited the Akō Gishi Graves years earlier on a walk in 2016. And it threw me for a loop then — not the graves per se — but the locals who showed up in constant waves to bow before them (after having paid their respects by laying burning incense or by laying chrysanthemums…which is the flower in Japan’s imperial seal).

There were middle-aged men in business suits, little kids in school uniforms, retirees, young women, old women…everyone. All silent, all steely…courtesy of the uptight / buttoned-up / nakedly nationalistic country that first brought us Ninjitsu and Samurai and Sumo and Aikido; then severely antagonized Russia (which it beat) and China (which it raped) and Korea (which it occupied); before it paired Kamikaze with Fascism and Axis’d itself before Pearl Harbor’ing America…who responded by bombing it atomically twice over (and thus into submission as well as into eventual reforms). And I know the history…but just can’t reconcile it…because the Japanese people — as I’ve experienced them to be — are so mousy and sheepish today; little says ‘war’ or ‘warrior’ ‘bout any of ‘em.

I mention this all to tread carefully…because I don’t excuse bad behaviour nor really know how to parse or separate continuum from aberration (or vice versa); like, when Japan’s historical belligerence is sorta constant and akin to a recurring theme. Like, I condemn war and aggression and occupation and bullying…because the existential argument for peace — amongst nations and within societies themselves — is self-evident; peace is for life by virtue of peace being an ideal condition for living. Anything that isn’t that, isn’t good…because it is deadly and deathly…

…Yet I love the primal primacy of a fair, controlled, and consensual punch-up (so long as there is a code; no risk to any spectator, civilian or any chance of collateral damage whatsoever…and there needs to be intervention and/or a stoppage should someone get royally fucked-up); it is why I boxed for years and bled smilingly with fellow idiots who liked to do this dumbo dance with me. And I don’t even know how to square this violent aspect of my peacenik self…I guess I’m just my soldier father’s son? And for better or worse, each of us is…just some bits of our parents (much of which is out of our control…because it seems to be hardwired into us sans any say in the matter). Like Chikara to Oishi.

Anyway, papi Mike’s code for us two boys growing up was pretty simple; you could never throw the first punch…but had to do everything in your power to get the final kill. It is what it is, which is what it was.

Given my caveat — being Japan’s troubled / aggro past (which I condemn) — I’ll let Japan speak for itself, and have it tell you exactly what the Akō Incident was…by me transcribing — and sharing — what is on the green paper’d, photocopied pamphlet that English-speaking visitors are given by Buddhist monks when visiting the graves inside Sengaku-ji;

“Perhaps the most famous story of avenge in Japanese history is the Akō Incident which took place between 1701-1703.

Asano Takuminokami, Feudal Lord of Akō, was appointed by the shogunate to entertain the imperial envoys visiting Edo from Kyoto. He was to seek directions from his official advisor, Kira Kozukenosuke. But Kira disliked Asano and treated him with malice and disgraced his honor as a samurai.

Unable to tolerate Kira’s insult anymore, Asano drew his sword on him in the Edo Castle at what is known as “The Pine Gallery (Corridor) Incident”. Asano managed to cut Kira on his forehead and shoulder but failed to kill him.

It was strictly forbidden to draw one’s sword within the Edo Castle at that time and Asano was immediately arrested. There was also a law termed “equal punishment for quarrels” which punished both samurais involved in a fight so both Asano and Kira were expected to be punished. However, while Kira received no punishment, Asano was sentenced to death by seppuku (hara-kiri) in a garden of another lord’s residence on the very same day without proper investigation. Seppuku outside in a garden was for a felon and inappropriate for someone of Asano’s standing. Further, the Asano estate was confiscated and his family was dethroned from lordship.

The loyal retainers of Lord Akō, better known as Ako Gishi [the 47 Ronins], were indignant of this judgment and pleaded for an amendment of the order and the reinstatement of the Asano house. But their requests were dismissed.

Almost two years after the fateful incident, 47 samurais of Akō assembled under former chief retainer, Oishi Kuranosuke, to avenge their lord’s death and the injustice imposed by the shogunate. On December 14th, 1702 they attacked and killed Kira at his residence. They then marched to Sengaku-ji to present Kira’s head to Asano’s grave and reported their accomplishment to their late lord.

The Gishi turned themselves in to the shogunate right away and were sentenced to seppuku the following year on February 4th.

The avenge of the Akō Gishi has been made into various plays and is now commonly called “Chu-shin-gura” (The Story of Loyal Retainers). It is a popular tale and one that still touches the Japanese heart even after 300 years. The chivalry of the loyal retainers and the themes of “Gi” (justice) and “Chu” (loyalty) are still highly esteemed by the Japanese.”

Make of that pamphlet what you will; all story — fiction or otherwise — is open to interpretation and/or can possibly be a key driver of a society (should the story have power, and find a receptive audience whom it rallies). Repulsively, maybe the story represents the worst of toxic masculinity by way of unnecessary violence, murder, and suicides. Comedically, it may exemplify the overkill of how it takes 47 Japanese people to do one single job (i.e. assassination) and/or typify how psychotic the work culture is in Japan (i.e. employees not just avenging the death of a boss who threw a tantrum…but them all committing a murder on his behalf and thus having to kill themselves as punishment for such). Alternately, it could be seen as being on that street justice tip ala that ‘word is bond’ rap shit re: honour, loyalty, dedication, and payback.

Me? Well, the Marathon Earth Challenge has thrust me face first / eyes wide-open into the world-at-large this year…and this experience has both widened — as well as closed — the gap between some of the sacred stories out there that concern their sacred sites out there too; where some combos clicked for me, and many, many combos didn’t.

I just know…that marathoning into the Akō Gishi plot within the grounds of Sengaku-ji…on a mission of my own making this year…where I’m trying to honour a weird-ass skill I’ve developed, and made both a private and publicly-stated commitment to…as I try and kill the worst and most cowardly parts of my self in the process…Me? I just feel something in that little patch of stone in Tokyo; where thousands of incense burn and where the smoke is thick and where the graves are patinated and where the landscaping is Tsukiyama’d and where they transported Asano’s allegedly blood-stained plum tree to (which his bodily red juice sprayed onto after he gutted himself beside it), and where no one who visits the graves speaks.

Maybe we’re silent there because of Japan’s cultural decorum…or because of the soothing zen-y decor of the surroundings…or maybe because the stories that speak loudest render us the quietest (and most contemplative; when we consider what we can possibly be or become…if we were to live by a code, one most righteous and honourable).

PARABLE: WHAT THE AKŌ GISHI MEANS TO ME*

Interpretation near a mission’s end…of beheading sans seppuku

The Akō Incident and the Marathon Earth Challenge are both real events. However, they are stories too…but fundamentally incomparable because one is lauded whereas the other has absolutely no inherent meaning whatsoever / nothing to do with sacrifice (*spoiler alert* the latter is my glorified year-long vacation via daft earthly prance). As such, there are no similarities between the two…but here’s the thing about stories; they’re what they are, and what we make them; what they profess to be, and what we believe them to be.

Stories are creative expressions; they’re offerings made…and then released sans conditions into the wilds (of our imaginations as well as our interpretations). As such, what the Marathon Earth Challenge means to me may be different than what it means to you — like, if it even has any meaning to you — and all of it is valid.

For me, the Akō Incident is a parable that has nothing to do with violence, just like the Marathon Earth Challenge has nothing to do with tying, breaking, surpassing or setting a world record. Both of those things — be it violence or records — are cheap narrative gimmicks that concern these very different stories; but both function as hooks to lure (e.g clickbait in this digital age). And if those gimmicks are believed to be the sum of the story…then what is invisibly written between the lines…is a magical realism that the author beefed in properly expressing or just something that was unfortunately overlooked by the reader.

When I first went to Sengaku-ji in 2016, I now recognize looking back…that I didn’t ‘get’ the Akō Gishi Graves at the time; they were just cool looking gravestones…contextualized by a gnarly story. But when I revisited Sengaku-ji in 2019 — on a marathon to it…and after 100+ marathons done elsewhere in the lead-up — their meaning (to me) started to come into view. And in 2023 — when I visited them this last time around (every time on a marathon) — with more than 800 marathons in the bank in a year where I’ve done 230+ of ‘em (executed in loads of countries where I was out of my depths as a wandering man)…I now…I now clearly understand my understanding of the Akō Incident, and why the story — and the site — of the Akō Gishi Graves speaks to me (more than anything anywhere else in the world).

Asano, Kira, Oishi and the Akōroshi…they aren’t individuals…they are just different parts of us, ones who battle within us;

Asano is the rigid perfectionist.

Kira is our doubts; which are always fucking with us…by weight of them fearing change or challenges.

Oishi is our potential; hidden, latent or dormant which requires a calling to be catalyzed, to step up, and to demonstrate the way forward.

And the 47 Ronin Akōroshi are the army of effort it takes to make a real commitment — and execute it — regardless of consequence. Anecdotally, Oishi’s IRL Ronin squad ranged in age from 16 to 83…and IMHO this is a beautiful metaphor; that effort is ageless / it is never too late to give something a try.

For me, I can only make sense of the above through my dichotomic personal binary; of cowardice slayed by courage….

…I’ve jammed with the punk band long enough…so when am I gonna get onto the stage or into the studio? I’ve written enough unread words…so when am I gonna get the byline or release the book? I’ve made enough unseen photographs…so when am I gonna get them published or exhibited? I’ve sparred enough rounds…so when am I gonna fight under the bright lights? 

All were practices…which had to be made real by trials;

From things being comfortably private inside of us to things becoming uncomfortably public outside of us — and out of our control — by way of being released into the world; just things expressed and made real (which is really scary for us to do…because they can fail, be critiqued, be ridiculed, be judged or be killed by haters…when we put them out there).

More clearly stated: I developed a legitimate marathon practice over the last near-decade…so when the fuck was I gonna have the guts to put it to the ultimate test?

Cowardice is the whisper of Kira. The not now. The not ready. The not good enough.

Courage is the force of the Akōroshi. The mission. The big swing. The letting go — and letting it rip — into the unknown of the void (which is that terrible darkness in which growth inexplicably grows, and is thus found).

Agree or disagree, it makes no difference to me…because it’s a new year in a few days time…at which point all of us are reset back to zero.

So swords out or swords sheathed?

In Japan on this third trip, I swung by Sengaku-ji most days…not every day…but every two to three days. Yes, to burn incense for all the reasons herein…but also to look into this one stone basin there that was always full of water (which often had some pretty flower heads floating on the water)…

…Which I looked at to see my reflection, and to reflect on all the battles I’ve lost this year. Like, about wanting to be further along in my ‘total marathon count’ at the end of each month. About wanting to get to 240 marathons in Japan — and having written that hope on every fucking postcard I sent out to strangers from there — and failing to achieve 240 there, and feeling so embarrassed by making that publicly known / not privately delivering on it. And about all those lil niggling regrets from not having pushed myself harder on certain days past…when I was tired this year, and believed rest to be more important than grinding (to honour my greater mission).

But here’s the thing. I’m winning the war overall, the one against myself; because I’m hitting 239 marathons today…whilst many more days remain on 2023’s calendar (which are ripe for ripping marathons on, and across).

And we can sound the alarms and turn on the spotlights and call for back-up… and none of it will — or would — make any difference.

Because my vengeance is deadlier than Kira’s ability to live inside my head; and that is the very sharp and ruthless blade which this year has forged.

Physical, spiritual, religious, internal, external, whatever…

I hope you have your own personal version of the Akō Incident in your heart; that thing that makes you feel like you can take on the world, and which inspires you to honour yourself by…by going out into the world to take it on for real / to make something real…regardless of consequence.

Swords out for our missions…or we’re literally — and figuratively — gutless by way of turning our swords inwards;

A self-inflicted seppaku.

*For the record, I’m not a cringey Japanophile who believes himself to be a modern-day Ronin…that’d be sooo corny (plus, this project required no sacrifice on my part). That said, I really like the etymology of the word…for the obvious ‘rolling stone’ reasons.

POBJOY'S GLOBAL PRICE INDEX

This is an on-going documentation of how much things cost in different places around the world. Here are some of the things I bought at Sengaku-ji (all prices converted to USD):

• A bundle of incense bought from Buddhist monks on-site to lay at the Ako Gishi Graves: $2.10

• A dual ticket for the Ako Gishi museum and the Ako Gishi memorial hall: $3.50

• A 600 millilitre bottle of water from the temple’s vending machine: 91¢

MARATHON MUSINGS

On acknowledgement and/or honouring those who sacrificed for me*

While the Marathon Earth Challenge remains in full effect until the clock strikes midnight on NYE 2023, I did visit the graves of the 47 Ronin on my last morning marathon in Tokyo the other day — done before catching a flight back to Canada — to show gratitude to those who have aided my mission this year.

It felt poignant to do this for many reasons…but mostly because today I’ll be hitting 239 marathons for the year (which ties the world record…in a week where I’ve already set a personal record for ‘most kilometres trekked by foot in a year’ at 11,264 kilometres…and I’m still going and counting…because there’s still more time to move myself forward by way of marathon).

Anyhoo, as I wrapped my hands around a bundle of burning incense last Wednesday — while standing before the Akō Gishi Graves — I closed my eyes and bowed to honour the following people;

Christine Loureiro (who alone exclusively sacrificed to enable my project to exist…at the expense of her needs); Elliot Pobjoy (for his non-stop guidance and counsel); Ann Mitchell (for letting me store my possessions in her basement before I went nomad); Mike Pobjoy and Valerie Weston (for letting me visit them in Wales before this project kicked-off so I could test my marathon kit in the wet and windy Welsh backcountry as well as on its mountains); Tim Foran (for creating my project’s strategy and brand behaviour model); Deborah Belcourt and Stacey Brooke (for handling my project’s communications and public relations); Scott O’Hara, Greg Kerr, Katrina Platt, and the entire Behaviour Inc. staff (for kindly letting me use their agency’s office in Toronto); Nadia Hallgren and Jamie-James Medina (for helping me get an international phone plan in America…because the Canadian equivalent is a rip-off); the Vieira clan (for letting me stay at their ancestral home in Portugal); Tio Benny’s Baby Yoshi and Babawu (aka Joshua and Elliott aka The Bum Bum Boys…because either Avó or Mama told me that you lil rascals kept me in your prayers); Rannoch Donald and Laurenne Pottinger-Donald (for opening their home to me in Edinburgh); Petra Nederlof and Bram Koster (for letting me stay in their guest house in Amsterdam…and schooling me on the Dutch branches of my family tree); Pippa Boothman and Øyvind Birkenes (for opening their home to me in Oslo); Sjoerd Handgraaf (for offering me a place to stay while in Finland); El Roberto aka Rob Stonehewer (for letting me and the missus crash his vacation in Spain…and for booking all the accommodations…as well as doing all the driving); Mike Giles from Ciele Athletics (for his sincere friendship as well as outfitting me in any technical gear I requested); Nick Martire from Norda (for sending me loads of shoes without any hesitation whatsoever); Christian Brecheis from Near Earth (for anticipating my needs…and sending me a big batch of new socks at a clutch intermission); Tom Daly from District Vision (for providing me with eyewear); Bob Pluss from Race Roster (for kindly opening his network to me); the entire ASICS / Runkeeper army for helping tell my story, sending me shoes, and hosting me at their Marunouchi store in Japan (big shout-outs to Stephanie Redfern, Dorothy Beal, and Ryohei Kirihara…and props to Whitneigh Kinney, Callie Weaver, Kelly Green, Hillary Stafford, and Rio Speller-Drews); T. Reilly Hodgson and Ethan Hanzel from No Fun (for the care package); Joan Lew (for connecting me with the people at Simply the Goodz); Jaclyn Sutton and her team at Simply the Goodz (for sending me lotsa healthy snacks when I trained for this project last year); Sara Ross from Partake Brewing (for sending me tasty non-alcoholic beers this year), Andre De Pape from Acorn Biolabs (for preserving my stem cells this past spring); Auntie Catherine and Uncle Foxy (for making time for me while on holiday in Athens); Cousin Freya Fox (for making time for me while working and studying in Vienna), Nina Sudra (for the beers and cigs…and making time for me in Tokyo); Craig Mod (for letting me pester him at his home in Japan…right when he was in the middle of launching his new book); Bernardo Andrada (for providing me with tips on Brazil); Joel Brillert (for providing me with tips on the Caribbean); Tobin Reid (for providing me with tips on Egypt); Darren McLennan and Jennifer Frees (for their care package); Paul Galipeau (for telling me to get on the Leukotape train…which proved to be crucial); every single journalist and/or media personality that helped tell my story on TV, radio, and/or in newspapers earlier this year; everyone who subscribed to the ‘Pobjoy Postcard’ program (you essentially bought me a new laptop in Bangkok when my old laptop was finally dying there); everyone who reads the newsletter; everyone who followed along on social media; and anyone who took the time to help spread the word about my project / sent me encouraging words of support / sent offers of help.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart…you made this seemingly impossible, self-funded, solo, DIY project not only possible, but a resounding success (well, a success if Santa does this perennially naughty boy an early solid…by letting me hit 240 marathons on Christmas Eve tomorrow).

*A sincere apology to anyone who’s deserving of thanks whom I forgot to thank. This was unintentional on my part…so please forgive me…I’m just braindead from a wild year where I had to behead my doubts.

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