To Get Used To in Chinese / Japanese...

七転八起 is a Japanese proverb that relays the vicissitudes of life, with the meaning “seven times down eight times up.”

Some would more naturally translate it into English as “Always rising after a fall or repeated failures” or compare it to the English, “If at first, you don't succeed, try, try again.”

The first Kanji is literally “7.” The second means “fall down” (sometimes this Kanji means “turn around,” “revolve” or “turn over” but in this case, it holds the meaning of “fall”). The third is “8.” And the last is “get up,” “rouse,” or “rise.”

Basically, if you fail 7 times, you should recover from those events and be prepared to rise an 8th time. This also applies if it is the world or circumstances that knock you down seven times...
...just remember that you have the ability to bounce back from any kind of adversity.

Note: This can be pronounced in two ways. One is “shichi ten hakki” or “shichitenhakki.” The other is “nana korobi ya oki” also written, “nanakorobi-yaoki.”

Special Note: The second character is a Kanji that is not used in China. Therefore, please select a Japanese calligrapher for this title.

In 632 BC, Duke Wen of the Kingdom of Jin was about to lead an army against the forces of the Kingdom of Chu.
The Duke asked one of his advisers, Jiu Fan, how they could win the impending battle, as they were drastically outnumbered.
Jiu Fan said, “All is fair in war,” and suggested a plan of dishonorable tactics (cheating).
The Duke was unsure of this advice, so he asked another adviser, Yong Ji, who replied, “If you catch fish by draining the pond, you can certainly get all the fish. But there will be no fish the following year. You can cheat this one time in battle, but such tactics can only be used once, as the enemy will be wise in future encounters.”

The Duke heard the words of his wiser adviser but cheated to gain victory in the battle. However, he rewarded Yong Ji more than Jiu Fan at the victory celebration, stating that while Jiu Fan's advice gained one victory, the wise words of Yong Ji would last forever.

This Chinese idiom/proverb is still used, over 2600 years later to remind people not to burn bridges, cheat, or dishonor themselves in exchange for a short-term gain while sacrificing the future.

竭澤而漁 is very similar to the meaning of the English phrase, “Kill the goose that lays the golden eggs.”

大神 is Okami, an honorific title for God (used in Shinto and other religions).

If you directly translate this, you get something like “Big Spirit” or “Great Spirit.”

There are other titles that romanize as "Okami" in Japanese, so make sure this is the right meaning for you. Another common okami means wolf but is a completely different Kanji and meaning.

精進 is a wide-ranging word that is used in Chinese, Japanese, and Korean.

It can mean devotion, diligence, concentration, aggressive, enterprising, vigorous, energetic, purification, pushing, asceticism, assiduity, or virility. 精進 is deep, and these two characters can express ideas that take a full English phrase to describe, such as “concentration of mind,” “to forge ahead vigorously,” or “to dedicate oneself to progress.”

Used in the context of Buddhism, it means “making earnest efforts to cultivate virtue and get rid of evil” or “zeal in one's quest for enlightenment.”

閃電 is the title for lightning in Chinese.

The first character means flash, dodge, or get out of the way. In this case, it's the “flash” meaning. Sometimes this character can be used to mean lightning by itself.

The second character means electricity.

See Also:  Thunder | Rain | Storm

慾 means desire, longing, appetite, wish, covetousness, greed, passion, desire, avarice, and craving.

慾 is universal in Chinese, Japanese Kanji, and Korean Hanja.

The context in which this character is used determines whether the meaning is good or bad. As a single character on a wall scroll, you get to decide what the definition is to you (hopefully more toward desire than greed).

Please note that Japanese use a simplified version of this character - it also happens to be the same simplification used in mainland China. Click on the character to the right if you want the Japanese/Simplified version of desire.

一帆風順 is just what you think it means. It suggests that you are on a trouble-free voyage through life, or literally on a sailing ship or sailboat. It is often used in China as a wish for good luck on a voyage or as you set out on a new quest or career in your life. Some may use this in place of “bon voyage.”

The literal meaning is “Once you raise your sail, you will get the wind you need, and it will take you where you want to go.” Another way to translate it is “Your sail and the wind follow your will.”

This is a great gift for a mariner, sailor, adventurer, or someone starting a new career.

Note: Can be understood in Korean Hanja but is rarely used.

See Also:  Bon Voyage | Adventure | Travel

千里も一里 is a Japanese proverb that states “A journey of a thousand miles feels like only one mile.” It is understood that in the proverb, this applies when going to see the one you love.

Note that the “mile” or 里 used in this proverb is an old Chinese “li” (pronounced “ri” in Japanese). It's not actually a mile, as the measurement is really closer to 500 meters (it would take 3 of these to get close to a western mile). Still, 1000里 (333 miles) is a long way.

指圧道 is the title for Shiastu-Do, the Japanese way of finger pressure.

Shitsu-Do is about applying special finger pressure to points on the body thought to be connected to pathways called “meridians.” Shiatsu is a healthful way to get your 気 or 氣 (ki energy) flowing properly.

Note: This title can also be written in the older 指壓道 form (just the middle character has an ancient/traditional form used before WWII).
You might even see 指压道 which uses the Simplified Chinese form of the second character.

節制 means moderation or temperance in Chinese, Japanese Kanji, and old Korean Hanja.

Moderation is creating a healthy balance in your life between work and play, rest and exercise. You don't overdo or get swept away by the things you like. You use your self-discipline to take charge of your life and your time.

節制 can also be translated as sobriety or self-restraint.

This is often used as part of the Seven Heavenly Virtues to represent sobriety and/or temperance.

See Also:  Prudence | Ethics | Humble | Humility

This refers to the virtue, morality, and ethics that any practitioner of martial arts should possess.

This can be used in both Chinese and Japanese in place of English terms such as “soldierly virtue,” “good conduct” (military), “warrior ethics,” and being honorable regarding any fight or competition.

In Japanese, there is a slight variation in the last character, making it 武徳 instead of 武德 in Japan. And yes, just one little horizontal stroke is omitted. If you need the Japanese version, please choose a Japanese calligrapher, or drop me a note so that I make sure you get the characters you intend.

See Also:  Morality of Mind | Morality of Deed

酒 is the Chinese character, Korean Hanja, and Japanese Kanji which means alcohol.

This can refer to wine (esp. rice wine), liquor, spirits, sake, or to alcoholic beverages in general.

In the west, we tend to say “sake” to mean Japanese rice wine, however, this character is a little ambiguous in Japanese. It literally just means alcohol and is often pronounced “shu” in Japanese. Specifically, in Japanese, you might want to ask for “seishu” or 清酒 to get the sake that you are used to in the west. Seishu literally means “clear alcohol.”

生老病死 means “to be born, to grow old, to get sick and to die” or “birth, aging, sickness, and death.”

This is an old somewhat-morbid Chinese proverb that is also used in Korean and Japanese. It figuratively means the fate of humankind (i.e. mortality) or suggests that we are all born to suffer.

In the Buddhist context, there are the “four inevitables in human life” or “four afflictions that are the lot of every human” known as “四苦” (literally “four afflictions”). Sometimes this proverb is written with that affliction character, 苦, at the end like 生老病死苦.

黑帶 is “black belt” in Chinese.

Many will argue whether rank systems that include a “black belt” are used in pure Chinese martial arts systems. The argument goes that it's more a Japanese idea merged into the western versions of Chinese martial arts. However, in Wushu (often referred to as Kung Fu), it's said that all students started with white belts. Over the years of training, the white belt would get dirty until finally appearing black with filth. Thus, more advanced students had darker belts.

If you want this title in Chinese, this would be the form.

Often, the second character is written like the image to the right. If you like this version, click on this character instead of the button above.

皇后 is the title of empress/emperess, the female form of the emperor.

皇后 is used in Chinese, Japanese Kanji, and old Korean Hanja.

While the emperor's reign was for life, if he died, his wife would hold his power. In this case, a woman was the ultimate ruler of the greater part of East Asia (now China) until her death and the succession of the emperor's firstborn son to lead the empire. Numerous times in various Chinese dynasties, an empress took power in this way.

The first character means emperor by itself.

The second character alone can mean “wife of an emperor or king” (the first character clarifies that we are talking about an empress and not a queen). It can also mean sovereign or last offspring, depending on context.

Note: In some books, this word is translated as queen. While only incorrect if you get technical (because an empress is theoretically a higher level than a queen), the meaning is very similar.

皇后 is sometimes used for the title of queen, but more technically, this is the wife of the emperor (a higher level than a queen).

See Also:  Emperor | King | Queen | Phoenix

空無 is “nothingness” in a Buddhist context.

The first character means empty but can also mean air or sky (air and sky have no form).

The second character means have not, no, none, not, or to lack.

Together these characters reinforce each other into a word that means “absolute nothingness.”

I know this is a term used in Buddhism, but I have not yet figured out the context in which it is used. I suppose it can be the fact that Buddhists believe that the world is a non-real illusion, or perhaps it's about visualizing yourself as “nothing” and therefore leaving behind your desire and worldliness.
Buddhist concepts and titles often have this element of ambiguity or, rather, “mystery.” Therefore, such ideas can have different meanings to different people, and that's okay. If you don't get it right in this lifetime, there will be plenty more lifetimes to master it (whatever “it” is, and if “it” really exists at all).

Soothill defines this as “Unreality, or immateriality, of things, which is defined as nothing existing of independent or self-contained nature.”

信義尊嚴勇氣 means fidelity, honor, and courage in Chinese.

This is a word list that was requested by a customer. Word lists are not common in Chinese, but we've put this one in the best order/context to make it as natural as possible.

We used the “honor” that leans toward the definition of “dignity” since that seemed the best match for the other two words.

Please note: These are three two-character words. You should choose the single-column format when you get to the options when you order this selection. The two-column option would split one word or be arranged with four characters on one side and two on the other.

武芸者 is the Japanese Kanji title for “Martial Arts Master.” It suggests that you have reached at least the level of black belt and are probably to the level where you are ready to become an instructor.

Please consider carefully where you stand before ordering this phrase on a wall scroll. If you are not a master, this will make you look a bit foolish.

If you want to get this as a gift for your master at the dojo. Try to discreetly make sure this term is used in your school. Different schools and styles of Japanese martial arts use different terms. You may notice in the Romaji that the last two characters romanize as “geisha” which means “person skilled in arts” (what a geisha girl really is). The title here has the character for “martial,” “warrior,” and/or “military” in front of it. Therefore the literal translation is “martial art person.”

These Kanji are valid Chinese characters and Korean Hanja, but this title does not really make sense in Chinese and is not often used in Korean, though a Chinese or Korean would be able to guess the meaning by looking at the first and last characters.

一日千秋 is a Japanese and Chinese proverb about missing someone.

一日千秋 is often used to express how hard it is to wait for someone's return or to be away from someone.

Some will translate this as “one day feels like a very long time” or “waiting for someone (something) is hard.”

You might see this romanized as a single word, Ichijitsusenshuu, or as “Ichijitsu Senshuu” from Japanese.
If you break down the characters one-by-one, we get:
一 = one/a
日 = day/sun (can also represent time or date)
千 = 1000/thousand
秋 = autumn/fall

Together, 千秋 can mean “autumn comes thousand times” (or 1000 years). It can also be read as 1000 periods of time.
However, it relays the idea of heartache as you wait for someone you miss.

身土不二 (Shindofuni) is originally a Buddhist concept or proverb referring to the inseparability of body-mind and geographical circumstances.

This reads, “Body [and] earth [are] not two.”

Other translations or matching ideas include:
Body and land are one.
Body and earth can not be separated.
Body earth sensory curation.
You are what you eat.
Indivisibility of the body and the land (because the body is made from food and food is made from the land).

Going further, this speaks of our human bodies and the land from which we get our food being closely connected. This phrase is often used when talking about natural and organic vegetables coming directly from the farm to provide the healthiest foods in Japan.

Character notes: 身(shin) in this context does not just mean your physical body but a concept including both body and mind.
土 (do) refers to the soil, earth, clay, land, or in some cases, locality. It's not the proper name of Earth, the planet. However, it can refer to the land or realm we live in.

Japanese note: This has been used in Japan, on and off, since 1907 as a slogan for a governmental healthy eating campaign (usually pronounced as shindofuji instead of the original shindofuni in this context). It may have been hijacked from Buddhism for this propaganda purpose, but at least this is “healthy propaganda.”

Korean note: The phrase 身土不二 was in use by 1610 A.D. in Korea, where it can be found in an early medical journal.
In modern South Korea, it's written in Hangul as 신토불이. Korea used Chinese characters (same source as Japanese Kanji) as their only written standard form of the language until about a hundred years ago. Therefore, many Koreans will recognize this as a native phrase and concept.

See Also:  Strength and Love in Unity

刀 is the Japanese Kanji for “sword.” This refers to the style of sword carried by warriors, samurai, and shogun of ancient Japan.

With the pacification of Japan, such swords are now only used for ceremony and decoration. The true art of sword-smithing is all but lost in Japan with new sword production dedicated to making inexpensive replicas for the tourist and foreign market.

For those of you that want to ask whether I can get you a real antique sword. Let me tell you that most real Asian swords were melted down after WWII in Japan, and during the Great Leap Forward in China. Any remaining swords are family heirlooms that nobody will part with.

Please carefully note that the Japanese kanji character shown above is only for a Japanese audience. In China, this character means “knife.” See our other entry for “sword” in Chinese.
Note: 刀 can mean knife, sword, or blade in Korean, depending on context.

See Also:  Sword

柔術 has been somewhat incorrectly spelled and pronounced “Jujitsu” for some time in the English-speaking world. The correct Japanese Romaji is Jujutsu or Juujutsu.

A little background on the word: By combining the Kanji pronounced “Ju” (which means flexible, pliable, gentle, yielding) with the Kanji pronounced “Jutsu” (which means art or technique), we get a meaning that can be translated as “flexible technique,” “gentle art” or “yielding technique.”
柔術 does make sense in Chinese as well, although pronounced “rou shu” in China.

The Jujutsu system has a history in Japan that started well before the 1600s. Some see this style as a variation of the “Empty Hand Method” (Karate-do). Even the samurai of old used some Jujutsu methods in defending themselves with their unarmed hands against weapons that could pierce their heavy armor.

There are convoluted relationships between various schools and systems of martial arts, but it's generally accepted that Jujutsu led to the development of Judo and a few other variations.

師父 means master in Chinese (occasionally used in Korean Hanja and Japanese). In the context of Martial Arts, this is the master and teacher who instructs students.

The second character by itself means father. Thus, you get the “Fatherly Master” translation. There's an old Chinese saying that goes something like, “One who is your teacher for one day is your father for life.”

Language notes: I've often seen this romanized as “sifu,” this is actually the Cantonese romanization. In Mandarin Chinese, it's “Shifu.” The pronunciation in Mandarin is actually like “sure foo” (using typical English pronunciation). There's an “R-sound” in there, which is not obvious from the romanization. Many martial arts studios incorrectly pronounce this like “she foo” (which is actually the Japanese pronunciation). In Cantonese, it sounds like “Sea foo” (almost like “seafood,” minus the “d” at the end).

師父 is kind of a weird selection for a calligraphy wall scroll; this entry is more for educational purposes. But you are welcome to buy it if it suits your circumstances.

基督 is how to write “Christ” in Chinese characters, Korean Hanja, and Japanese Kanji.

This is the word used in the Chinese Union Bible (the only readily-available translation of the Bible into Chinese that I know of - published about 100 years ago). For Chinese Christians, this is the most common way to refer to Jesus Christ.

This is also the way that “Christ” is written in Japanese. But since the Japanese language is very flexible about the sounds that can be assigned to various Kanji, these characters have been assigned a pronunciation that sounds a lot like “Christ” or actually closer to the original “Christos.” In Japanese (if you don't know how the Romaji shown above in the gray box works), it sounds like “key ree sue toe” using English words/sounds. Say those four words fast, and you'll get it.
It should be noted that only Japanese Christians will be familiar with this word.

This is best defined, read, and understood with the characters together, but if you take this word for Christ apart, the first character means “fundamentals” or “foundation.” The second character can mean “leader” or “boss.”

榮 relates to giving someone a tribute or praise.

It's a little odd as a gift, so this may not be the best selection for a wall scroll.

I've made this entry because this character is often misused as “honorable” or “keeping your honor.” It's not quite the same meaning, as this usually refers to a tribute or giving an honor to someone.

榮 is often found in tattoo books incorrectly listed as the western idea of personal honor or being honorable. Check with us before you get a tattoo that does not match the meaning you are really looking for. As a tattoo, this suggests that you either have a lot of pride in yourself or that you have a wish for prosperity for yourself and/or your family.

In modern Japanese Kanji, glory and honor look like the image to the right.

There is a lot of confusion about this character, so here are some alternate translations for this character: prosperous, flourishing, blooming (like a flower), glorious beauty, proud, praise, rich, or it can be the family name “Rong.” The context in which the character is used can change the meaning between these various ideas.

In the old days, this could be an honor paid to someone by the Emperor (basically a designation by the Emperor that a person has high standing).

To sum it up: 榮 has a positive meaning; however, it's a different flavor than the idea of being honorable and having integrity.

破鏡重圓 is about a husband and wife who were separated and reunited.

About 1500 years ago in China, there lived a beautiful princess named Le Chang. She and her husband Xu De Yan loved each other very much. But when the army of the Sui Dynasty was about to attack their kingdom, disposed of all of their worldly possessions and prepared to flee into exile.

They knew that in the chaos, they might lose track of each other, so the one possession they kept was a bronze mirror which is a symbol of unity for a husband and wife. They broke the mirror into two pieces, and each of them kept half of the mirror. They decided that if separated, they would try to meet at the fair during the 15th day of the first lunar month (which is the lantern festival). Unfortunately, the occupation was brutal, and the princess was forced to become the mistress of the new commissioner of the territory, Yang Su.

At the Lantern Festival the next year, the husband came to the fair to search for his wife. He carried with him his half of the mirror. As he walked through the fair, he saw the other half of the mirror for sale at a junk market by a servant of the commissioner. The husband recognized his wife's half of the mirror immediately, and tears rolled down his face as he was told by the servant about the bitter and loveless life that the princess had endured.

As his tears dripped onto the mirror, the husband scratched a poem into his wife's half of the mirror:

You left me with the severed mirror,
The mirror has returned, but absent are you,
As I gaze in the mirror, I seek your face,
I see the moon, but as for you, I see not a trace.

The servant brought the inscribed half of the mirror back to the princess. For many days, the princess could not stop crying when she found that her husband was alive and still loved her.

Commissioner Yang Su, becoming aware of this saga, realized that he could never obtain the princess's love. He sent for the husband and allowed them to reunite.

This proverb, 破鏡重圓, is now used to describe a couple who has been torn apart for some reason (usually divorce) but have come back together (or remarried).
It seems to be more common these days in America for divorced couples to reconcile and get married to each other again. This will be a great gift if you know someone who is about to remarry their ex.

Long ago in what is now China, there were many kingdoms throughout the land. This time period is known as “The Warring States Period” by historians because these kingdoms often did not get along with each other.

Sometime around 279 B.C. the Kingdom of Chu was a large but not particularly powerful kingdom. Part of the reason it lacked power was the fact that the King was surrounded by “yes men” who told him only what he wanted to hear. Many of the King's court officials were corrupt and incompetent which did not help the situation.

The King was not blameless himself, as he started spending much of his time being entertained by his many concubines.

One of the King's ministers, Zhuang Xin, saw problems on the horizon for the Kingdom, and warned the King, “Your Majesty, you are surrounded by people who tell you what you want to hear. They tell you things to make you happy and cause you to ignore important state affairs. If this is allowed to continue, the Kingdom of Chu will surely perish, and fall into ruins.”

This enraged the King who scolded Zhuang Xin for insulting the country and accused him of trying to create resentment among the people. Zhuang Xin explained, “I dare not curse the Kingdom of Chu but I feel that we face great danger in the future because of the current situation.” The King was simply not impressed with Zhuang Xin's words.
Seeing the King's displeasure with him and the King's fondness for his court of corrupt officials, Zhuang Xin asked permission from the King that he may take leave of the Kingdom of Chu, and travel to the State of Zhao to live. The King agreed, and Zhuang Xin left the Kingdom of Chu, perhaps forever.

Five months later, troops from the neighboring Kingdom of Qin invaded Chu, taking a huge tract of land. The King of Chu went into exile, and it appeared that soon, the Kingdom of Chu would no longer exist.

The King of Chu remembered the words of Zhuang Xin and sent some of his men to find him. Immediately, Zhuang Xin returned to meet the King. The first question asked by the King was “What can I do now?”

Zhuang Xin told the King this story:

A shepherd woke one morning to find a sheep missing. Looking at the pen saw a hole in the fence where a wolf had come through to steal one of his sheep. His friends told him that he had best fix the hole at once. But the Shepherd thought since the sheep is already gone, there is no use fixing the hole.
The next morning, another sheep was missing. And the Shepherd realized that he must mend the fence at once. Zhuang Xin then went on to make suggestions about what could be done to reclaim the land lost to the Kingdom of Qin, and reclaim the former glory and integrity of the Kingdom of Chu.

The Chinese idiom shown above came from this reply from Zhuang Xin to the King of Chu almost 2,300 years ago.
It translates roughly into English as...
“Even if you have lost some sheep, it's never too late to mend the fence.”

This proverb, 亡羊补牢犹未为晚, is often used in modern China when suggesting in a hopeful way that someone change their ways, or fix something in their life. It might be used to suggest fixing a marriage, quitting smoking, or getting back on track after taking an unfortunate path in life among other things one might fix in their life.

I suppose in the same way that we might say, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life” in our western cultures to suggest that you can always start anew.

Note: This does have Korean pronunciation but is not a well-known proverb in Korean (only Koreans familiar with ancient Chinese history would know it). Best if your audience is Chinese.