The Reservoir

Sweat dripped from my brow, soaking my already-drenched uniform top as I stutter-stepped forward, one foot in front of the other, maintaining the cadence I had marked for myself in my mind.  That internal metronome was the only thing keeping me standing as my shoes pounded the pavement... that, and the self-consciousness that dominated my thoughts as I felt the presence of my master approaching to jog next to me.

It was July of 1991, and I was a 14-year-old black belt candidate, one of five teens out of what was to become a graduating class of six trained by Kwan Jang Nim Ed Fong that summer.  Two weeks before the test, we completed our black belt prep training, of which the penultimate challenge was a 7.5 mile mountain jog along with 1000 kicks, all performed in the lovely California summer heat.

The final mile was a self-paced run.  While we began together, my fellow candidates and the cadre of black belt seniors eventually all spread out and I found myself running alone, neither in the lead nor trailing, until Master Fong passed me running (in the opposite direction) towards the rear of the line to check on those behind me, and then made his way up the line to run next to me.

Not one for small talk, Master Fong began teaching as he ran.  He praised me on how far I had come and how much improvement I had made in the months prior to the test.  He noticed how much stronger I had become by pushing myself beyond the physical, using the power of my mind to overcome the cries of fatigue that my body screamed throughout my consciousness.

And then he told me that there were still places that I needed to explore before I could truly be ready - that once I had given everything that I had in me to give, and then pushed further to unlock the power of the human spirit within me, I would discover the limitless reservoir of energy that would help me to reach for greatness.  Only then could I feel like I had earned the belt.  Only then would I be ready.

Hearing that opened up something inside of me.  I don't fully remember how or why.  It just happened.  No longer did I feel the conflict and despair of a child complaining about his sore feet, tired muscles, and drained reserves.  The haze of my exhaustion cleared into a simple thought: choose, and act.

I chose.

I told Master Fong that I was going in search of it, that I would see him at the parking area where we began - and then I sprinted (or what felt like it) for the remaining half-mile all the way back to a squad of my seniors cheering me in.

I did it.  I found what I was looking for.

It would be two more weeks before I got to wear one, but when I look back, I earned my black belt that day.  Since that sprint 20 years ago, every seemingly-impossible challenge in my life has simply been an opportunity to reach into that reservoir to find the strength that I need to go on.

It's not always easy.  Sometimes it takes a while for me to find it inside of myself.  When I embark on new endeavors, my travels lead me away from familiar territory and I struggle to find my way back, but each day, I tap into the same force of will now as I did back then.

I succeed each day because I choose to.

In Defiance of Zeus

 

(UBBT team reunion, February 2010)

In Plato's Symposium, the playwright Aristophanes half-seriously envisions a world in which humans, in their true form, were born with four arms, four legs, and a single head with two faces.  After offending Zeus and the other gods by aspiring to replace them, humans were split in half, condemning them to spend the remainder of their lives searching for their 'other half' - the one who would complete their soul and make them whole once again.  Other souls are similarly fated to play other important roles in each others' lives, with death to separate such beings from each other in order to force them to restart their quest to find each other once again.

Although this tale is often used as a literary reference to the early conception of 'soulmates', I would suggest that the fragmentation of humanity in general is also referenced by this classic fictional story, and to continue indulging in Aristophanes' quasi-intoxicated ramblings, exactly what Zeus wanted. (or perhaps Hades)

In a manner of speaking, this also serves to highlight part of why I enjoy our team's efforts with the UBBT and The 100: although we're separated geographically, we're connected to each other - striving to reach out, connect our ideas and intentions, and then create action in the world.  Our work connects human beings with their best selves, and then takes that even further to unite good people with the work of great people.

Or, through the lens of Aristophanes: 

Our work is in rebuilding and reconnecting humanity's heroes, in defiance of Zeus' punishment.

Perhaps, we were destined to find and help each other here.

Human beings, united in purpose and spirit, can accomplish far greater things than any one of us can accomplish by ourselves.  Collectively, our work brings us in touch with a Truth that is beyond language.

All of our training is a subset of the human experience, which is why we can connect every aspect of our training to living, making the phrase "my life is my dojo" come true.  Our training is about what we can be, what we might become, and what we can do with our human potential.

Similarly, all human experiences are a subset of Truth.  Every human being that has ever lived came into being as a limited self, creating a sense of identity for themselves through carving away reality with their perceptions.

Or, arguably, by cutting off pieces of Truth.

Bring two people and their ideas together, and their fragments of the Truth grow.  As George Bernard Shaw suggests, trading ideas isn't like trading apples: if we swap apples, we both still have one.  However, when we exchange ideas, then we each have two ideas.  (Hmmm, random thoughtstream: Post your journals, share your ideas....)

Wielding an enhanced piece of the Truth can be world-altering.  I'm not talking about 'lowercase truth', the kind that we can dissect with endless measurements, quantifications, legal jargon, or logico-mathematical algorithms of varied complexity.  When we start using 'uppercase Truth', we begin facing ultimate kinds of questions, enduring puzzles like Who We Are, What We Are Here To Do, and What It All Means.

After all, uppercase Truth is the real subject of our training.  It's why we joined the UBBT, yes?  To seek something greater than Boxing Combo #17, Kata 42, and Choke Escape 9B?

I'm very happy to have connected with so many outstanding martial artists, teachers, and human beings through the UBBT.  Your experiences have brought so much of the Truth into focus for me.

Let's continue the search together.

Each week, I will share a piece of whatever Truth I have found through my training.  You share yours.

What Inspires You?

Week Without Walls: An Epic Vision

Four years ago, I began promoting my first black belts from my program at Epic. It gave me a wonderful opportunity to re-imagine what I wanted my black belt testing process to look like, and what the end product would be - since that end also represents the beginning of something new.

The video above is a sample from last year's work. It's evolved into a week-long adventure and a life-changing experience for the candidates and their support team, the culmination of a year's worth of preparation - including many lessons that I've learned from my teammates in the UBBT.

In May 2011, we will be heading back to Lake Tahoe to explore new areas and share new adventures together before returning to San Jose for our promotion ceremony. Since I'm never truly content with repeating myself, I fully intend to step up my game and outdo myself.

If any of you are in the area, you are more than welcome to join us. :)

I'm Over Under

Family is an important concept in the martial arts.  The concepts of lineage, loyalty, and connection are all highly respected in many martial arts circles.

The longtime conception of the dojo as "second home" is evident in the nomenclature that we've adopted to describe where we fit on the good old "family tree".  In Japanese styles, sensei are those who have been "born before" us, and senpai, while considered part of the mentor/protege model, are similarly derived from an older sibling/younger sibling relationship.  This is echoed in the Korean seonbae/hubae pairings, as well as the various honorifics for instructors.  In the Chinese arts, you see terms like si-gung, si-tai-gung, and si-jo....all terms relevant to lineage.

This sense of lineage permeates many martial arts, to the degree that one of the first conversations that many martial artists have is "Who did you train with?", which ultimately is an exploration to find out whether we are related through the same martial lineage (or family tree), and if so - how.

In the past week, I've engaged in dozens of these conversations with numerous martial artists, which isn't entirely out of the ordinary when meeting other instructors; however, what has been interesting for me is the common usage of the term "under" in relationship to lineage, as well as how the usage of that word is linked to the relationships (and politics) within a given "martial family", as well as between families.  My observations:

To refer to a given practitioner as having studied "under" a given teacher is to identify them as being members of the same lineage, and within that hierarchy, the practitioner is, quite literally, "under" that teacher - if we were to envision their martial family tree.  That relationship generally obligates the student to observe a certain degree of filiality towards his/her teacher.

Things begin to get hazy afterwards.  Depending on the subculture of a given lineage, to be "under" someone may also imply degrees of authority (similar to military rank), responsibilities, certain etiquette, and sometimes even control or ownership.

Some of these are to be expected.  Most of them aren't particularly harmful, and are quite healthy.  We *should* listen to our teachers' advice.  We *should* feel a sense of loyalty towards them, and feel responsible for using their lessons properly.  If the culture of your dojo has a certain practice to honor such individuals, don't feel bad for observing those things.

However, I'll add my two cents: any instructor who deludes themselves into thinking that they can control their student, own the fruits of their labor, and/or run their business for them (by any right other than mutual informed consent), will someday find themselves without that student.

In our world, being 'under' anyone never gives them the right to hold you down.