Hello. I am Yasuhiro Terashima of Unfolding Bodywork.
When attending business seminars, we are often inspired by effective methods and the fundamental philosophies that support them. Yet, it seems only a handful of people actually put what they learn into practice. And among those few, perhaps only one out of a hundred participants will continue to practice something a hundred times. For many, such seminars serve as little more than a temporary surge of motivation, which I feel is a great waste.
In teaching bodywork, I find myself reiterating the most foundational and essential truths over and over again. This is because I feel that what matters most—far surpassing technical knowledge—is so often the hardest to convey. I dare to speak of this not as an individual shortcoming, but as a tendency inherent in our shared human nature.
Whenever I learn something new, I make it a rule to repeat it at least a hundred times. Through repetition, the deeper reasons why the teacher held this practice so dear begin to reveal themselves. As I continue further, subtle refinements naturally arise—ways to adapt the practice so that it serves me even better. Only then does a true, usable foundation begin to take shape. And through this unbroken continuity, a profound sense awakens that the path I am walking is truly becoming my own. Even after it becomes my own path, the journey continues. The very moment we decide it is over, that path halts, and everything we have built seems to fade away.
This is precisely what I mean by our shared human tendency. We grasp a wonderful concept or method, only to convince ourselves we "fully understand" it after just a few repetitions. We stop before we have ever truly known its value. Might this illusion of understanding not be the greatest barrier of all when we seek to learn?
Even so, falling into the illusion of understanding happens to everyone. Therefore, the moment we notice it, we must return to the basics and simply practice. Our minds will instantly step in, whispering to stop us with thoughts like, "There is no point in repeating the same thing. This is already enough." Yet, when we gently step past that resistance, a new world so often unfolds before us. We begin to realize, for instance, that even while seemingly repeating the exact same act, no two moments are ever truly identical.
Teachers, guides, and forerunners might simply be those who have walked the path of foundational repetition more times than ourselves. By releasing the illusion of understanding and continuing to practice, we come to embody why a foundation is truly a foundation—not merely through the intellect, but through direct, somatic experience. Only then does knowledge transform into something truly alive and usable.
Though we humans are so quick to strive for something special, every aspect of life is already miraculous in its own right. I feel that by simply and devotedly continuing the practices left to us by those who came before, our own unique path naturally reveals itself.
When attending business seminars, we are often inspired by effective methods and the fundamental philosophies that support them. Yet, it seems only a handful of people actually put what they learn into practice. And among those few, perhaps only one out of a hundred participants will continue to practice something a hundred times. For many, such seminars serve as little more than a temporary surge of motivation, which I feel is a great waste.
In teaching bodywork, I find myself reiterating the most foundational and essential truths over and over again. This is because I feel that what matters most—far surpassing technical knowledge—is so often the hardest to convey. I dare to speak of this not as an individual shortcoming, but as a tendency inherent in our shared human nature.
Whenever I learn something new, I make it a rule to repeat it at least a hundred times. Through repetition, the deeper reasons why the teacher held this practice so dear begin to reveal themselves. As I continue further, subtle refinements naturally arise—ways to adapt the practice so that it serves me even better. Only then does a true, usable foundation begin to take shape. And through this unbroken continuity, a profound sense awakens that the path I am walking is truly becoming my own. Even after it becomes my own path, the journey continues. The very moment we decide it is over, that path halts, and everything we have built seems to fade away.
This is precisely what I mean by our shared human tendency. We grasp a wonderful concept or method, only to convince ourselves we "fully understand" it after just a few repetitions. We stop before we have ever truly known its value. Might this illusion of understanding not be the greatest barrier of all when we seek to learn?
Even so, falling into the illusion of understanding happens to everyone. Therefore, the moment we notice it, we must return to the basics and simply practice. Our minds will instantly step in, whispering to stop us with thoughts like, "There is no point in repeating the same thing. This is already enough." Yet, when we gently step past that resistance, a new world so often unfolds before us. We begin to realize, for instance, that even while seemingly repeating the exact same act, no two moments are ever truly identical.
Teachers, guides, and forerunners might simply be those who have walked the path of foundational repetition more times than ourselves. By releasing the illusion of understanding and continuing to practice, we come to embody why a foundation is truly a foundation—not merely through the intellect, but through direct, somatic experience. Only then does knowledge transform into something truly alive and usable.
Though we humans are so quick to strive for something special, every aspect of life is already miraculous in its own right. I feel that by simply and devotedly continuing the practices left to us by those who came before, our own unique path naturally reveals itself.
