Good Grief

 

These days, I grieve.

I lost my dog, Butch, at 15 years old a few weeks ago and I am still sad about it. The grief is not a constant flood of tears like it was in the first few days after it happened. Still, not a single day goes by that I don't think about him or miss him. I listen for his footsteps and reach over to pet him where he used to be, right next to me. Always. I feel a profound emptiness.

Everyone has tried to console me these past few weeks and I am very grateful for that. They tell me how lucky I was. How I was lucky to enjoy so many years with such a good boy (I know). They tell me how lucky I was that he went quickly, that I was there to hold him in his last moments, watching him take his final breath. They tell me how lucky I am that I wasn't at work or on a business trip or at the store or anywhere else.  They tell me how lucky I am that he didn't die alone at the vet. They tell me how lucky I am that he knew how much we loved him and treasured him.  He knew how important he was and how much his life mattered to us. All this is true. I do feel lucky. But honestly, it doesn't help much.

I grieve. And that's OK. In fact, I think grief is good.

Grief is only possible when we care; when we love. I have only ever felt grief for those very close to me. The worst were my foster parents. Then my foster brother. Losing them felt like being shot or stabbed. When my foster mom died and my foster dad called to tell me the news (in all my years in Japan he only called once) I felt real physical pain. I fell to the ground wailing and I couldn't move. My friend had to come and stay with me for a few days since I couldn't even get out of bed. It's funny when I realize I spent more time with Butch than I did with my foster mom. The pain was the same but I am 30 years older and more resilient now. I have tried not to let my heart harden and to remain compassionate. I think after everything I am more able to accept my emotions and allow them their place.

We all deal with grief in our own way, and there is no set recipe for getting through it. Likewise, there is no  timeline or timetable that can help us. It takes as long as it takes and it hurts as much as it does.

For some, the pain is unbearable and they try to escape it through drinking, taking drugs, fucking. Whatever. Any kind of love or pleasure to combat the overwhelming feelings of pain and loss. Anything to try and fill up the emptiness. I get it. I can't judge anyone else for how they deal with grief. To each their own I suppose.

I don't want to run away or look away. I don't want to escape the pain. In fact, I want it. I want to feel it all. Completely. I know that the only way is to go forward. Through the pain and emptiness to the other side. If I allow distraction in whatever form it will just take that much longer to heal. There are no shortcuts or lifehacks or tricks for this. There is only patience and time, as much as it takes.

Life in martial arts, especially when it is anchored in Zen practice, helps. We are no strangers to death since we study it intimately. The Path tells us that it can be our time anytime on any day, and Zen encourages us to be in the moment fully so as not to experience regret when that moment comes, and it will come for all of us. Certainly my Butch lived in the moment. Zen is not morbid, only accepting of death as part of the natural order of things, not to be feared but to be remembered and reflected upon in order to give this impermanent life greater meaning and purpose. In Buddhism we consider the soul as immortal and so the loss of the physical form can be thought of more as a transition back to our natural state, Light. Once Butch died I no longer thought of his physical body, which we cremated the following day. His sprit had left and that shell was empty. He was free, his mission fulfilled. I know this and it comforts me, but only a little. The pain is still great. He was such an important part of this phase of my life. So many precious memories.

I miss you, little one. I think I always will. and that's OK. Grief is good.

Butch (about Acceptance)

 

(thank you for the inspiration GD)

Yesterday at 09:45 my faithful companion of 15 years, Butch, died. He had a massive heart attack and slipped away in my arms. I watched the light in his eyes fade... and he was gone. Just the evening before he had gone on his walk as per usual, slower now that he was older. In the morning he was sitting next to me, sharing my morning bread as he always did. 30 minutes later he had passed away, closing a very important chapter in all of our lives. Today we cremated him and his remains took their place next to our Xie Xie, who died 11 months earlier to the day.

At the Kali Majapahit Legacy Camp in Travelers Rest, SC we started every day with a 7am walk on the beautiful campus of Furman University. It was a time for meditation and movement, filled with deep conversations that would set the tone for the rest of the busy day of training sessions. I was always glad to spend that time with my brother, Guro David from Espoo, Finland. Like me, he has a background that is anchored in the Japanese traditional arts and it is part of his personal philosophy. He is a keen observer and able to break apart complex ideas into simple things that everyone, including me, can easily understand. I always learn so much from him.

On one morning, as the sun was rising, Guro David was talking about acceptance. This became one of the most important themes of the camp. We were engrossed in the conversation, relating this topic to every aspect of the Budo and our lives.

In Kali Majapahit, we train people to be changemakers. We prepare them to take responsibility for who and how they are, challenging them to accept a life of balance and health - mental/physical/emotional. Rather than complain, we teach them to activate and get engaged in making the changes that result in personal growth, in becoming the best version of themselves. We learn to make and keep promises both to ourselves and to others, proving again and again that we are achievers. By performing successfully in class consistently, we show that we can perform consistently in every other aspect of our lives. We learn that focused effort yields powerful outcomes and we become willing to invest the sweat it takes to make our dreams into reality. It was amazing to spend a week together with black belts from all over the world who had this in common. The positive energy was incredible, like being plugged into a giant battery. It was truly a room full of superheroes.

So what about acceptance then? Doesn't that mean sitting by passively and letting the world unfold without lifting a finger trying to change it??

Actually, NO.

There are two sides to change, which together create the whole. Just as Yin/Yang (陰陽）exist as two equal sides in Taoist philosophy. On one hand, we need to learn that many/most of what happens in life is outside our control or influence. Simply, the events cannot be changed. We are born, we grow old, we die. This process can be influenced to some degree but cannot be changed. Most importantly, we cannot change the karmic journey of others and cannot take their journey onto ourselves.  Depending on what flavor of Buddhism you believe, our own destinies are also pre-ordained and cannot be changed (Guro Fred deeply believed this). We must become who we are meant to become.

However, although we cannot change the events in our lives, we can control how we react to them. We can interpret these events in positive or negative ways and this in turn influences the tone of how we live. Some people have a tone that is decidedly negative and sad.  Every event that transpires is viewed through a lens that interprets it in the most negative and sorrowful way. Such people are usually sad and miserable. In a perverse way, maybe they feel validated by the misery they create for themselves, as if feeling sorry for themselves somehow absolves them of the need to take responsibility for their own lives and circumstance. They maintain that they are unlucky, cursed or that God hates them. This is the victim mindset.

By contrast, some people feel blessed by every event. Even difficult or sad occurrences are perceived as opportunities for learning, maturity and growth. Hardship is seen as a pathway to wisdom and a source of empathy and compassion for others. They feel that God grants the toughest challenges to those most able to bear the burden. They seem unbreakable and resilient even in the face of catastrophe. The events didn't change, but their interpretation of them did. This is the mindset of survivors and victors.

In the end, acceptance is about allowing every moment, every event, to happen without trying to alter them. It means not allowing lies to cloud the truth of what has been. It means not turning away from hardship or running from it. It means facing every challenge with eyes wide open, experiencing the moment fully and completely. It means being right here, right now. Always. Likewise, acceptance means not dwelling too much on the good events either. We know that these, too, will fade in time and we do not seek to hold onto them too tightly. We enjoy the moments, and allow ourselves to feel accomplishment without becoming drunk on pride or ego. Reality grounds us. Acceptance is the antithesis of attachment. Letting Go is a process of acceptance.  This is easy to talk about and hard to do in practice.

Yesterday I had to accept the loss of my beloved pet. This could not be changed. I had to let go. His spirit left yesterday morning as I looked into his eyes. Today, his body was burned and his remains returned to us for safekeeping. I will not dwell in the past but I will never, ever forget him. I will not cry for the future, but I will always wish I could have spent more of it with him. I will always wish for one more day, one more moment to share together. Mostly, I am grateful for the gift of his love and companionship during these 15 years. I was so incredibly lucky to be the human of such a perfect dog. He taught me so much and even in his dying breath showed me how to accept and to let go of this life with dignity and grace. I have understood the assignment. I will be ready when it is my turn.

Thank you Butch, my furry little Zen master. Please wait for me, I will see you again before too long.

Until then, RUN FREE 

What we Learn By Being Tested

 

(Thanks for the inspiration JP)

Testing is an important part of the KM rotating curriculum. Every three months we introduce, learn, practice and drill new material. At the end of the cycle, we test to see how well we have mastered it.

Testing is an opportunity to show growth and progress not just in our technique, but in our character. We show our intensity, our focus and our concentration. Sometimes the tests can be an hour or more, requiring continuous focus to perform. This is no small feat.

When we pass the test, we are recognized for our efforts, but are also allowed to feel a strong sense of accomplishment. We are building good habits, showing up for ourselves and fulfilling the promises we made to become a better version of who we were. Again and again we repeat this process of goal-setting and goal achievement, proving to ourselves that we are continuous learners and constantly improving. Doing this in the dojo shows we can do it outside the dojo. In our lives at home, at work/school and with our friends, we are able to evolve to become more authentic and more genuine - we learn to be present and to respect both ourselves and others. We become part of the Positive Light that brightens the world.

So what do we really want students to take away from a test??  It is a physical challenge, of course. In every cycle we introduce a lot of complex material that can be hard to remember. At the beginning of the cycle all of it is unfamiliar and gradually we commit it to muscle memory. We are continuously reviewing our basics and strengthening our foundation so that new movements and techniques are strong, too.

However, more than this we develop RESILIENCE. This is the ability to persevere in the face of difficulty. We learn to refocus/reset and recover when we are under stress and not to simply give in to pressure and fold. Sometimes a test just doesn't go as planned. The techniques and flow don't come easily. We get stuck. We feel frustration. There is high anxiety because we want to do our very best. Our mind races and we regret every training session we missed or that we did not review enough outside of class. We feel nervous and afraid of failure...

It is in these moments that we find the depth of our character. Under pressure, we rise. Unbroken, we breathe deeply and reframe ourselves. We focus on being right here/right now. We feel the connection to our practice and to our partner. We let go. We accept. WE FLOW.

As a teacher, I am always so proud to see students correctly execute the techniques of Kali Majapahit. They move with power and grace and seem able to handle every new challenge I give them. More than this, I am impressed by their courage and fortitude when the going gets tough. This gives me comfort that I am helping them develop skills that will bring them success outside the dojo, too.

Not every fight is in a dark alley and not every confrontation is physical. If we learn properly, we can use our martial arts training every single day. The Kali Majapahit experience helps us learn to manage stress and pressure, essential in many areas of our lives.

Thank you to all the students for reminding me of this and for showing me why what I do is so important.

Pugay Po

What I learned from last night's Cycle Test

 

After an exciting week at KM HQ in beautiful Travelers Rest, South Carolina, Guro Joe and I were back in Japan. The following day, we held our cycle test. The test was originally planned for August 31, but it just didn't happen.

Prior to leaving, a few unexpected issues arose. First of all, a major typhoon (ShanShan) threatened Japan that week. In the end, damage was minimal as at the last moment it veered away from the Greater Tokyo Metro Region. However, heavy rains and flooding still caused disruption to most public transportation and in the interest of safety, I made the decision to cancel the session. Secondly, I was invited to a business dinner with several board members from my key customer. My boss flew in from Singapore specifically for the event, so it could not be postponed. The dinner was a big success, but I again had to cancel class.  The following day, Guro Joe and I flew to the US for the Legacy Camp.

In all, the students were left without any dojo training sessions for about two weeks. I was very concerned that in the interim, without constant repetition, they might forget the material. During the prior three month cycle, we covered a wide variety of techniques ranging from single stick flow (sumbrada) to empty hands (Hakka Kuntao) to kickboxing. It's a lot to remember.

Last night I gave them the option to postpone the test in favor of a few more review sessions. Unanimously, they decided they wanted to go ahead as planned.

First of all, that decision represented the very best of the warrior spirit. In the face of adverse conditions, they showed the courage to move forward, letting go of fear and accepting the challenge - facing it head on rather than waiting for greater certainty. I applaud the confidence and dedication to moving forward. As a wise man said "Done is better than Perfect".

Secondly, it showed that even after a few weeks away from the dojo they largely remembered the techniques. That shows mastery. All too often in life, we fail to own the material beyond what it takes to pass a test. This is not the same as really knowing something. Knowledge committed to our long term memory remains with us sometimes for decades. Like the proverbial "riding a bike", some things are never forgotten. I am both proud and humbled that KM is important enough for them to have committed it to their muscle memory.

In the end, it was an amazing test. Focus, discipline, engagement. They had it all. Was it perfect? Of course not. As I told them, I have never had a perfect test either. I always walk away with a little regret, wishing I had done just a little better. However, for the most part the techniques were good, showing solid foundations and good understanding of the basic mechanics of KM.

I could not be more proud.

In the end, beyond simple technique,  our time in the dojo should build our resilience. It should help us learn to remain calm in the face of any challenge and to rise to adversity and face it like warriors.

Thank you again to the students for a great demonstration of this. Well done.

See you next week.

Losing

 

The Paris Olympics is in full force now, and there are so many emotional moments. Athletes give their all in pursuit of medals not just for themselves but for their countries as well. The results of the past 4 years of preparation bear fruit as we see the very best compete for the glory of being champions.

There is heartbreak, too. Above the photo of Uta Abe, Japanese Judo medalist who rose to prominence in the Tokyo Olympics as she and her brother Hifumi were the first siblings to take individual gold medals in Olympic history. She had been unbeaten since 2019 and was heavily favored to win another individual gold, as her brother did later that day. She lost to Uzbekistani player Diyora Keldiyorova in what her brother termed an "accidental ippon". Heartbroken, her tears and wails of disappointment as she left the mats became a notable meme. We shared her pain.

There will always be times when we fail. We will fail to exceed our own expectations, or those of the people who count on us. There will be times when we are tried in public or on social media, fairly or unfairly. There will be times when we don't get the praise we think we deserve for the results we deliver. We may be passed over for promotion or have rumors unfairly spread about us.

As human beings, we seek validation and praise as part of our basic natures. We want to do well, and we want to be acknowledged and recognized for it. From the time we are born, we seek, even crave, the acceptance and praise of those we think are above us - parents/grandparents, older siblings, friends, teachers, coaches, professors, priests, in-laws, bosses and job mentors. Late in life, we seek validation from our children or grandchildren who we hope will recognize and acknowledge our sacrifices and think we did a good job for them. This is completely natural - until it becomes obsessive. When it causes us to suffer then maybe it is worth considering a bit more deeply.

Buddhism is an important way of philosophical thinking in that it addresses the ego directly. We are constantly reminded of our connection to everything, our sameness, our "smallness". In rejecting duality in favor of singularity, we accept that no other living being is above us and neither are we above any other. Our connectedness makes us equal and humbles us.

In Buddhism we also look carefully at the trap of expectations, which lead to desire and oftentimes to disappointment. This is done not to disavow our emotions, but rather to recognize and acknowledge them so we can let them go - and not be controlled by them. It is a process of deep observation aimed at every aspect of our lives.

As martial artists too, it is easy to be caught up in the thrill of competition and romanticize violence. Many famous Hollywood movies do exactly that. However, Buddhism clearly reminds us that such actions are really just "ego candy", establishing artificial rankings and hierarchies where they should not be. Our ego often gets in the way of good training and connecting to our training partners. Belts and ranks engender respect, but can also create feelings of unfairness or comparison where they are not warranted. Movies like "The Karate Kid" beautifully showcase our obsession with winning, often at the cost of someone else.

Kodo Sawaki, Zen teacher of Taisen Deshimaru, famously said "The secret of martial arts is that there is no victory and no defeat. You can neither win nor be beaten." Of course, this is not the same in sports and as such sports are not martial arts. This is worth thinking about. Losing her match does not equate to weakness nor failure. Neither can it be fully attributed to the strength and skill of her competitor. It simply happened. No more, no less. Every encounter is unique and no outcomes are ever guaranteed. Can we really say she "lost"? That Diyora Keldiyorova "won"? Both? Neither??

My heart goes out to Uta Abe. The heavy weight of so much expectation clearly took a toll on her. She is still young (24 years old) and has hopefully lots of life yet to live. She will rise, stronger, and this experience will help make her a better competitor and a better person. I hope she finds peace as soon as possible.

Train Hard.   

Two Sides of the Coin

 

There is much about the Filipino martial arts (FMA) that at first can seem difficult. In many cases, we feel that various concepts are at odds with each other or even directly in conflict. The movements are initially hard to master and don't feel natural, particularly if like me you are coming from a very different background. The ideas of FMA can feel very alien, at least for the first few years.

Lately, in my research while teaching expressions of 5 count sumbrada, I am thinking a lot about compactness. On one hand, the idea of being compact is an essential part of being a good fighter and a cornerstone of FMA movement. In general, we prefer to have the knees deeply bent and to move low to the ground. We often avoid jumping or large steps in favor of keeping the footwork more as a shuffle, using the coiling step to develop explosive striking power. As time goes on, my blocking positions (when I block at all) in stick/empty hand/knife become more and more compact.

I find that I prefer to be very close to my opponent, negating any reach advantage (I'm small) and allowing me easy access to any vital targets without a lot of excess stepping or reaching. From the stick and blade I have found that when I "go get" an attack I end up losing my guard and structure and it becomes easy to hit my hands, get a disarm or pass my guard and hit my body or head. When I reach for the incoming attack I am often vulnerable to fakes. I'm much faster when I stay compact and I feel more protected. I also find it easier to get traps and disarms the closer to my body I am. Conversely, as a fighter I like to cause my opponent to extend their blocks, “drawing” them away from their guard in order to open up opportunities and attacking lines, often through strikes like abanico/witik or vertical redondo. Since this a key aspect of my fighting strategy, I deliberately keep my guard close and tight to avoid someone using those strategies on me.

In contrast, instead of being compact I usually want to extend fully when I hit or cut something. I want to use the reach of the weapon fully, and in FMA most weapons operate via centrifugal force via the shoulder, which means the more extended my arm is the more impact energy is transferred to the striking tip. This is less necessary with a blade, but helps a lot when you hit with the rattan and want to have stopping power.

Extending my arm fully when I attack also prevents the opponent from easily stepping back out of range, which can happen if I shorten the arc of my swing. I want to make sure the opponent must address my attack with a block or intercept rather than just dodging out of the way. That means I want to get both a powerful strike and long weapon arc wherever possible.

What I found is that I try to be as compact as possible when I block and as extended as possible when I attack. this combination of opposing principles seems to give me the most effective movement and the best "look" to my flow. When I emphasize this with my students, they definitely look better in 5 count sumbrada and can operate the drill more smoothly and quickly.

For footwork as well, when defending I keep my steps as compact and minimal as possible, usually one step and bring the trailing foot, no more. When attacking, I try to use the 45 degree corners aggressively and go as far on them as I can, always pressuring forward and always threatening to flank my opponent. This seems to help by keeping them constantly adjusting rather than focusing on finding attacking lines into me.

Thus, my current approach is a combination of being very compact and being very extended, which I consider to be two sides of the same coin.

I'm still working through this topic with my students and thinking a lot about it every day. I'll write up more as I develop more hypotheses and test them in class.

Please share your own thoughts and observations.

Train hard.  

Four Corners

 

In this cycle, we are working on hubud lubud drill as a template to explore the Hakka 5 gates. This gives students a foundation in Hakka striking and trapping flows, including foot trapping and low line kicking, which are essential elements in the Hakka systems.

One of the key ideas to master when studying Hakka Kuntao is the idea of compactness. Of course this can be applied to all other systems as well, but the use of hubud lubud and the 5 gates provides a great visualization tool for understanding this idea.

I often explain compactness to my students using the idea of a box or "four corners". In Japan, I sometimes use a kanji to illustrate the corners and center line. The four corners represent the anchor points of the torso, namely the two shoulders and the two hips. By watching the two top corners I can easily see my opponent's movement start to develop, which makes their attacking intention easier to predict. Likewise, by watching their hips I can see any adjustment of their footwork, stance or the beginnings of a kicking motion. All four of these can be monitored by watching the center mass of the torso at the sternum, and Guro Fred deliberately put our logo in that spot on the training t-shirts as a focal point for this purpose.

In fighting, our goal should always be to protect our four corners. By doing so, we naturally keep attacks away from the main part of the torso including all the vital organs heart/lungs/plexus/liver/spleen. Throat and groin sit along the centerline but are generally protected if we protect the four corners. In Hakka, typically, the elbows connect to the hip corners and the hands connect to the shoulder corners. This means the hands will rarely go above shoulder height, and the elbows remain pointed downward in order to keep a strong structure.

Likewise, we are usually seeking to get past our opponent's  guard and access their torso by passing one or more of the corners. The strikes in Hakka are often aimed at the centerline and center mass, and traps usually lift the arms above the shoulder line or pin them to the low line at the corners of the hips.

Thus, the concept can be simplified to keeping the opponent outside the four corners of our box while getting access to their box ourselves. Other techniques like low kicks, locks, throws and the like serve only to create opportunities to penetrate the guard and gain access to the vital areas inside the box.

These concepts are universal. Combative knife fighting and shooting also emphasize targeting center mass (center of the box) as the highest percentage targets to render opponents ineffective. Recently, a former President survived an attempted assassination, possibly being lucky because the assassin chose a head shot instead of aiming for center mass.

In boxing as well, we sometimes move the opponent's guard in order to get access to the liver or spleen for body hits, or to either side of the jawline for head hits. If you examine the standard modern western boxing guard, it is designed to protect the four corners by using the elbows to protect the liver/spleen/floating ribs, the forearms to protect the plexus and the hands to protect the shoulder corners and head.

Going forward, when training, it may be useful to consider each technique for how it either protects our four corners or exposes them on our opponent. 

• Is it possible to be more compact and provide greater protection for our corners? What are the most efficient protections for our corners?
• Are there techniques and combinations that are effective for opening the corners of our opponent so we can get in? How can we best get past the opponent's guard?

Let me know what you think.

Train Hard.