5am. The hustle and bustle of the city has yet to awaken. In the hazy pre-dawn air, a man quietly stands on the grass. In his hand he holds neither a microphone nor a scripture, but a putter. Hip-hop, Buddhism, and golf – these three worlds that at first glance seem to exist in different dimensions, but he lives in one flow. “Rap, Buddhism, and golf are all about being here and now. If you’re caught up in the future or the past, you won’t get a good shot or a good rhyme,” he says, and his morning is filled with breathing, silence, and groove. His morning practice frees him, calms his mind, and becomes one with the space – it’s not a sports training, but more like a kind of “gyo.”
Rhyming is like knowing impermanence
In hip-hop freestyle, improvisation and self-transcendence coexist. Rather than trying to weave words, it’s a sense of speaking “what comes down to you.” He says, “When I’m in the flow, I’m not thinking. If I’m conscious of it, it falls apart. I feel like I’m connected to my unconscious. My head is in a state of ’emptiness.’ It’s similar to praying.” That feeling is exactly the state of “no self” in Buddhism. The “awareness of emptiness” that Zen monks get in zazen and the sense of unity that MCs feel through the microphone may be aiming for the same mental horizon. Living in the moment, letting go of attachment, entrusting words to the sound. Rhyme is the mantra of those living in the modern age.
Swinging is like breathing. Don't force it, don't resist it, just let it go.
He stands on the grass and adjusts his address. His breathing is deep and quiet. The moment he swings the club is also the moment he exhales. “In golf, if you try to hit the ball, you fail. If you have the mindset of ‘letting it hit’, the ball will fly straighter. This is exactly the same as rapping.” For him, holding a club is the same as holding a microphone. If there is tension, the flow and trajectory will be disturbed. If you focus too much on your form, your spirit will die. In Buddhism, “gyojizaga” – walking, standing, sitting, and sleeping are all considered training, but for him, “hitting, reading, exhaling, and stepping” are all self-training and a time for introspection.
Morning practice: 5am rounds, 7pm studio, modern sermon in the evening
His day is clearly divided, but all his actions are based on one “axis.” At 5 o’clock, he prepares his mind and body at the golf course. At 7 o’clock, he goes into the studio and puts his soul into the music. At night, he delivers a message like a “sermon” to young people through social media and videos. “Young people these days don’t like to be preached to. But they respond well to stories about how to handle anger and anxiety. So instead of using Buddhist words as they are, I talk about music and grass.” Anger creates OB (out of bounds). Attachment stiffens the wrist. Fear stops freestyle. His words are more about experience than doctrine. That’s why they reach out.
Buddhism × Beat × Fairway ── Trinity Karma Training
Prayer is not only found in silence. Poetry set to a beat is also a prayer, and a quiet swing is also a prayer. Mantras and rhymes, zazen and address, judo uniform and hoodie – for him, these are all “vessels” rather than “tools”. Enlightenment is not a mystical state somewhere far away. Buddha nature resides in every breath, every word, and every swing, right now. Golf is not a competition but a “Dojo of Kannon.” Rapping is not a battle but a “Statement.” And morning practice is the very act of “playing” as a Buddhist.
Rhyme is prayer. Swing is breathing. And life itself is flow.
People like him who live three cultures in their bodies may be the “ascetics” of the 21st century. Perhaps it is time for us to start our own “morning training” through our daily actions.