4th Dan Testing

 

It happened. After 45 years in martial arts, 18 years in Kali Majapahit, 13 years since I tested for 1st Dan black belt and 7 years since my last test, I successfully tested for Katalungan Guro (senior instructor), 4th Dan. I am now one of only two people globally holding this rank.

What was it like?

We started the day at the chalet with a light breakfast and began training at 08:00 by the lake nearby, a cold rain interrupting my solo baston class, which I finished with a demo indoors. After a light lunch we packed up and left the chalet for a long drive into Annecy to Guro Jeremy's dojo and started the test in the late afternoon at around 5pm.

Overall, about 4 hours of testing including both expected and unexpected elements. As expected, single and double sticks, knife defense, empty hands, boxing and kickboxing. Successive rounds added intensity and fatigue. At various points I was asked to teach/explain techniques as I responded, which forced me to keep my composure throughout. In addition to the drilling and sparring (foam sticks and foam/training knife), I had several rounds of full-contact sparring in protective body armor/helmet/gloves with the rattan stick. My partner was Guro Jeremy. This alone left me exhausted and emotional, but with more than two hours of testing still remaining.

By the end, I was ready to collapse, and made it through only by sheer willpower and with great support from all of my testing partners. I got back to Kasama Seb's at about 22:00 and was grateful to have a meal waiting (Thanks Yan!). I passed out shortly afterward.

I'm glad I passed the test. I'm glad it's over. Apart from some minor bumps and bruises I was not injured. I managed to keep my partners safe. That's what matters. Any test you can walk away from is a good test.

What Did I learn?

Expect the Unexpected
Every instructor-level test I have taken, 5 so far, has been challenging in different ways. I have written about them all in this blog. Guro Fred had a unique way of using both mental and physical (even emotional) elements to push testers to the brink and keep them there for as long as possible. I do not think he would have let any of us fail, but it was not possible to know that at the time. Each testing added in unexpected drills or situations in order to increase the stress and pressure. Physical exhaustion was the table ante, after which mental fortitude was all that was left to carry you through. This time, it was in an unfamiliar place, on minimal sleep/jetlagged, underfed, and with several hours of training fatigue and a long car ride in between. Still, I had to deliver. No excuses.

I told Guro Ben earlier in the week that what we think is our limit usually represents only about 40% of our actual limit. This was definitely true for me in this case. I felt exhausted and ready to quit after the full-contact stick sparring, but still managed to find enough energy to go on for another two hours and complete the test somehow.

Full-Contact Stick Sparring
This was the most stressful and emotional part of the test. Guro Jeremy is younger, bigger, faster, stronger. I haven't worn the body armor in about 15 years. The suit restricts movement and is oppressively hot. I couldn't wear my glasses so my vision was impaired. I felt from the beginning I would lose. The helmet makes a PING sound every time the rattan stick hits the metal facemask. I hate that sound. I must have heard it a dozen times, each one adding to my building frustration. I kept thinking I should be...better. I wasn't. We clinched and ended up on the ground more than once, the bulky suit being cumbersome and making it hard to wrestle. Guro Jeremy's skill in groundwork kept him confidently in control. I felt vulnerable and that made me angry and frustrated because I expected myself to be strong(er).

We don't always get to choose our opponents (I didn't) nor the time, place and circumstances of a fight. Some fights we are sure to lose. We fight anyway. It is important to go down swinging and give 100% even in a fight you don't think you can win. Always make the opponent earn it. No, I didn't win this one but I gave everything I had. That's all I could do. This session required a big emotional reset in order to continue testing and was a great reminder to manage my ego and accept that I won't always win. Guro Jeremy was patient yet stern, pushing me as hard as I could take. I'm grateful for it. I needed that. I had to let go to keep moving forward, and fortunately I did. A very important life lesson both inside and outside the dojo.

It Takes a Village
Guro Jay, Guro Torrey and Guro Liazid were also testing, and I think everyone was as exhausted as I was at the end. The tests are not easy for anyone. We only pass the tests through the grace of our partners, who push us without ego and without injury. The keep our energy high and give us strength when we are ready to give up. I am very grateful to have tested with people I consider my family rather than a tournament filled with competitors I don't know. Training with everyone here has made me better. Testing with them allowed me to shine. Everyone was a part of my success, and sharing it made it even more valuable. I don't think any of us will ever forget that afternoon in Guro Jeremy's dojo.

Play the Cards you are Dealt
In the end, there is only the NOW. There is no value in hoping for a different set of better circumstances. There is only doing what you can, the best you can, with what is there now. You must fight the fight in front of you and not give up. Ever. You focus on the next round or the next repetition and move forward inch by inch until it's done. What really matters is that you don't give up. Not in the dojo and not in life. Success is won through determination, perseverance and grit. I'm fortunate to be a stubborn old bastard.

I'll be turning 60 in a few months. Some 60 year-olds are slowing down and in decline.
This test, and the challenge of the training camp overall, made me feel like I can still deliver when I need to. I hope I did justice to everyone's expectations of me. If you have feedback on my test, please share either publicly or privately with me via DM. I want to know what you thought.

Thanks again to everyone for their support. Maraming Salamat Po.

See you at class.

NRG

 

(Thanks for the inspiration KMJ)

Martial arts is a bit like the story of Goldilocks - trying not to be too hot; nor too cold; getting it JUST RIGHT. What do I mean? The secret is not to use too much or too little of anything: not too much strength. Not too much speed. Not too much push or pull. Just enough. That is what experience teaches us. Efficient movement in martial arts comes down to not using any more energy than is necessary for the result. In the end, it's about ENERGY.

Ergonomics tells me that if I push or pull too far, I go beyond my range of strength and control and lose my balance. The closer I stay to my body (centerline/hips) the stronger and more balanced I am. The further away I go, the weaker and more unbalanced I become. As an example, during the deadlift, which is the heaviest motion in powerlifting, a key criteria is to left the bar as close to the shins as possible, so it travels up almost in contact with the legs as I drive to straighten my legs and insert my hips. If the bar travels even a few inches away from my legs the lift puts unacceptable strain on the lower back and becomes impossible/dangerous.

So too in martial arts. I emphasize using the largest muscle groups (back and hips) to generate power rather than just arms arms and chest. Striking power, therefore, is derived from legs/hips/back and delivered via the arms through spinal rotation and extension. This movement chain is consistent in all sports as well from hitting a baseball or cricket ball, hitting a golf ball or hockey puck, throwing a football, kicking a soccer ball (hip rotation and leg extension via the knees). Overextending any of these motions can lead to serious injury, most often in vulnerable joints like the knees and elbows. Proper posture and structural alignment of the head/neck/spine is essential.

In fighting, the goal for the opponent is exactly the opposite. I want to disrupt the posture and structure, especially of the head/neck/spine in order to neutralize their strength and put strain on muscle movement. I want to deny use of the legs/hips/back and force my attacker to rely on weaker muscle groups used in weaker/unfamiliar angles. I want to extend their arms and legs and isolate them from the centerline and powerbox (the four points in front of the shoulders and hips) to take away strength and create imbalance. In essence, apply myself from maximal strength/balance against their forced weakness/instability.

Whenever I contact my opponent I give them energy. Pushing and pulling in particular allow my opponent to use that energy in contrary motion against me. By pushing, I give them pulling energy. By pushing, I give them pulling energy. A wise opponent can use this energy against me, so I am always careful how much I give. I want to deliver enough to achieve the result (imbalance) without giving so much that the same is done to me. Knowing how much to give is about being very clear on what result I want to achieve and acting accordingly. Not doing so would be akin to trying to bake a cake without knowing what temperature and time to set the oven. The result would very likely be burned or underdone.

As I explained this, it became apparent that I was not just referring to physical energy but to emotional energy as well. At home or at work, I can give positive and negative energy. I can give too much sometimes, which can lead to me becoming emotionally imbalanced and upset or volatile. This can have an effect on those around me. Of course they are not "opponents" (at least I should hope not), but nonetheless they are able to feel and respond to the energy I give. When I give too much by overreacting, it can disrupt the harmony of the environment and over time this can erode trust and stability. Wisdom and maturity are knowing how much to give (being engaged and present) without allowing myself to lose my center. This is a core precept of good Zen practice - being fully present and experiencing the Now without being controlled by it.

Stay centered, Stay efficient. Think about the energy you give and get.

See you at class.     

Trust the Process

 

Everything happens for a reason. For the past few years, when I travel I try to get a cooking class in wherever I go. It's been a great way to learn about local cultures and cuisines as well as sharpen my skills. I have also met a lot of fellow foodies and still keep in touch with many of the chefs who have taught me. I honor their knowledge when I make the dishes I learned from them.

With a weekend free in London, I chose to go for a class at Bread Ahead in Borough Market. Chef Alessandro taught us about making brioche. I discovered he was teaching me about so much more. We learned a kneading technique for developing gluten in brioche. It's a dough enriched with eggs and butter, and initially is very sticky. Often, I would be tempted to add flour to alleviate the stickiness. Chef was very clear - no more flour. He explained "that would be good for you, but it would not be good for the dough". He meant that dough operates on specific ratios of flour, sugar, salt, yeast, water... If you change one ingredient (adding more flour), you change the ratios. It is no longer the same dough.

He was talking about two things:

Psychological Safety - I was so concerned about my bread being perfect that I did not allow for anything to go wrong. I was afraid this would mean I was not a good baker or that my skills were lacking. I didn't have the confidence or trust in myself to just do what I knew how to do. The logic of the ratios was clear and I knew it, but I did not trust myself to handle a stickier dough. Instead, I kept trying to solve a problem that wasn't there. The problem wasn't the dough, it was me.

Trust The Process - Not only did I not trust myself, I did not trust the process. The recipe was good; developed after a lot of trial and error by experienced bakers. It works. If you do not try to shortcut or cut corners. If you just trust the process and follow the instructions you get the result. Chef's method was counterintuitive: we worked the dough for several minutes by hand - directly on the wood surface. I would NEVER have put a sticky dough on a wood board, nor trusted myself that working it would eventually result in a beautiful dough that was not at all sticky. Sheepishly, I trusted the process and did as Chef instructed, stretching the dough and using my scraper to bring it back. A few minutes later, the result was a beautiful dough which became a beautiful loaf - the best brioche I have ever made.

It was a great day. A day that was meant to be. A day that gave me some lessons I had forgotten, that I will use both inside and outside of the kitchen.

Trust yourself.

Trust the process.


See you at class.

The Big Four

 

(thanks for the inspiration RL)

Spring is here. Summer is approaching fast. Soon, far too soon it seems, he'll be gone. Off to start his big adventure in America. The next step toward being an independent adult. It's a time of transition for all of us. The carefree weekends together of the past 20 years will be fond memories. The next time we meet he will be a very different person, totally changed from the one who left. I'll be different, too. In these last few months before he goes, are there any things I still have left to teach him? Are there any things I've learned in the past nearly 60 years that could help on his journey?? I tried to give him the best ideas I have. Things I've spent my whole life thinking about. Now, I'm sharing them with you.

The Big Four - four investable resources
The way I see it, we have four resources we can invest. These resources are, for the most part, finite and when they run out it usually leads to very bad outcomes for us. Catastrophic, life-altering bad outcomes.

Time - nobody gets more than 24/7/365. We get however many years we get until we're gone. This can be maximized by carefully using the others.

Money - I see this as a means to an end, not a goal in and of itself. Money is a facilitator and can be traded for the others.

Health - We often trade this one for other resources. When this is depleted, it impacts the others. A lot. 

Emotion - yes, finite. Using too much of this can leave us drained and exhausted and even cause us to overconsume the others.

As written above, these resources affect each other and are deeply connected. Very little happens in the domain of only a single resource. Therefore, it is important to consider the balance of resources we have and how we use them.

The Formula or "Recipe"
Given the four resources we have, the principal question becomes how to optimize them and derive the greatest benefit/value from them. Everything we choose to do in our lives will have a cost associated with it that can be considered as a mix or recipe of the four resources it involves. Different choices, even for similar things, can have very different costs involved. For example, being strict about my diet could maximize my health resource, but might do so by consuming additional time (meal preparation and study), money (buying premium ingredients) and even emotion (fasting can be very emotional). The jobs we choose, the place we live, the relationship partner we have (or even choosing to be alone) all have various costs associated with them which can be thought of as an equation:

(Time)+(Money)+(Health)+(Emotion) = Resource Cost 

Furthermore, choosing inherently yields not just a cost of resources, but also an opportunity cost. That is, choosing A means not choosing B,C,D, etcetera. For example, marrying a partner excludes us from marrying someone else (usually, anyway). Having a larger residence in the countryside means choosing not to live in a convenient part of the big city. Everything is a trade-off, a compromise between various resource combinations. 

Needs versus Wants
The resources are spent through a combination of our needs and wants. I define a need as something we simply cannot do without. It is non-negotiable for us and we are reluctant to compromise on it. By contrast, a want is something we might prefer to have, but could function without if necessary or accept a similar available substitute. We all need a place to live, but we do not need a 2,000 square meter penthouse. We may think we need to date a supermodel, but the cost of all the resources required for that may be egregious. I recommend spending significant time outlining our needs and wants, since they can change frequently. Furthermore, I think it is good to categorize/rank them so as to establish priority between choices in any given category such as education, hobbies, career choice, partner, residence, vacation, entertainment and the like.

For me, moving to Japan started as a want. At 14, I became fascinated with Japan and  began dreaming about living there some day. As plans came together, and subsequently fell apart, my commitment to Japan shifted from a want to a need. I was unable to imagine any version of my life anywhere else. I became obsessed with finding a way. I used almost all my time, money, emotion, even my health in pursuit of this goal and was willing to sacrifice them all to get my goal. In the end, getting to Japan took ten years, three failed attempts and my own near suicide before I was able to finally accomplish it. I'm still here more than 35 years later. For me, it was non-negotiable. The cost of resources to fulfill this need was far greater than I ever imagined it would be.  The payoff was also far greater than I ever imagined it could be. Achieving this goal set the foundation for the amazing life I’ve had.

Costs: What we know and what we don't

Costs come in two types, known and unknown. Some costs we can research and calculate relatively easily, particularly money costs and time costs. Health costs and emotional costs can prove far more difficult to estimate. In some cases, the effects of our life choices on health and emotional resources don't become clear for years or even decades. Some people find smoking or drinking to provide emotional comfort and help manage their stress and anxiety. They may choose to accept to use monetary resource even if the costs or tariffs go up (cigarettes and premium alcohol can be quite expensive) . They may even understand that doing so causes negative impacts on their health resource. However, the true cost of this may only become clear once the health problems like lung cancer, liver /kidney failure impact their daily life. My teacher used to say that if cigarettes killed you in five minutes no one would smoke. It's only because it happens slowly over 50 years that people choose to do it.

Yes, even people have a cost (if we choose to look at it that way). Given our finite resources, we must determine not only how we spend them but who we spend them with. Different people impact our resources positively or negatively. They may waste our time or they may help us spend our time and have wonderful memories. The right people in our lives can increase our resources by helping us live healthy, happy fulfilling lives and even inspire us to find the right career choices, the best partners and so on. This suggests that surrounding ourselves with other high quality people is very important. I think it is.

As per my example of Japan, costs can change over time and we must then re-evaluate if we are still willing to pay them. There are many situations in life where, faced with mounting costs, the best decision might be to give up and walk away. We usually have that choice. When a job we initially liked ends up costing too much in time, emotion and health we may choose to quit even if the money was attractive, for example. People are the same way. Sometimes their cost simply becomes too high and the best choice we can make is to walk away while we still have some resources left.

Choices as Investments

It can help to think of our choices as investments rather than costs. In this model, we invest our time, money, emotion and health into choices (including people) with the expectation of future benefit (return). Investing, by definition, is a long-term strategy. Warren Buffett, master investor, suggests that we should never invest in something we don't understand, and that we should invest with the intention of never selling our investment (why sell if it generates good returns?). I think this applies to people as well. Good people are worth our investment of time, energy, money and health to create a happy life together. When we adopt a short-term mentality about this our interactions become transactional and do not tend to yield good long-term outcomes. Thus, I recommend choosing our circle of associates very clearly, investing in them for the long-term, and enjoying the benefits of a healthy, nurturing friendship community in every area of our lives. As author Kurt Vonnegut Jr. wrote in his book Man without a Country, “we’re here to help each other get through this thing, whatever it is.”

Two Types of Planning

So how do I plan to maximize the utility of my resources. I like to use two broad planning strategies.

Short to Medium Term = 30/60/90/120
I plan out detailed action plans for the 30/60/90/120 day buckets. This helps me organize my daily/weekly planning as well. With an eye out to 120 days, I start thinking about the lead time of the important things I want to achieve and their critical paths. These milestones help me continue to deliver on my wants and needs in a timely fashion and not end up postponing them indefinitely. It builds my confidence that when I decide to do something, my good planning will ensure I get it done. In project management we often say "Failing to plan means planning to fail". Without good planning, life is just wishful thinking, isn't it?

I started going to community college in Spring of 1987, after a few years of working and saving money after high school. I took an evening class, PSCH 101: "Intro to Psychology" on Wednesday nights. However, I soon realized that if I wanted to get a degree, I needed to go to class during the day since night and weekend classes were too few and far-between. This would mean changing jobs, since my warehouse job was 9-5 on weekdays. I spent the summer going to bartending school and ended up bartending nights until 1991. This allowed my to get my associates degree and ultimately my bachelors degree as well.

Long-term planning: The Bucket List
I was very inspired by the book "Die with Zero" by Bill Perkins. In it, he outlines planning experiences (bucket list) by decade. That means deliberately planning for the experiences we want in each ten-year period. The benefit is that it allows us to be mindful of our changing activity levels during our life and maps activities to when we are most likely to have the right combination of available resources to achieve them. In our 20s, an African safari or climbing Everest may be possible with our available health resources, but maybe not with our available time and monetary resources. It all comes down to good planning. Bill Perkins argues, successfully I think, that we can have the life we want if we plan properly for it. It is unlikely to happen through luck or by accident.

In Conclusion
So there you have it. Honeyman's view of the world and how to win in it. I told him last night that if he doesn't remember anything else I've ever tried to teach him, I want him to remember this. I hope he will. I hope it helps. I hope it helps you, too.  Agree?  Disagree?? Let me know what you think.

Under Pressure

 

(Thanks for the inspiration Guro Paolo)

I showed up on Day 2 of the Tokyo seminar with Guro Paulo Rubio not quite knowing what to expect. Usually I like to attend both days to ensure I have the full context and can perform at my best, but it wasn't possible this time. Still, one day is far better than no days, right? I've been watching his videos from Funker Tactical for more than 10 years, and they have consistently delivered leading edge (pun intended) information about practical applications of Kali.  

It was one of the best seminars I have attended. Guro Paulo not only knows his material fully and confidently, he is aware of the value he can bring from his teaching approach. He understands the attendees and what we need, and is laser-focused on delivering exactly that. The material is drawn largely from the PTK playbook, which means it is well-researched. What differs is Guro Paulo's presentation. As he stated "My job is not to know more than all of you. I cannot be the source of ultimate knowledge. What I can do is be an architect of great training environments." He is. This really resonated with me.

Rather than simply being focused on presenting information or variations of techniques and applications, there is a lot of value in crafting good training environments - situations where the techniques can be tested, explored, implemented and mastered. This bridges the gap from rote memorization to application, which is critical to mastery. Guro Paulo has studied and researched this topic in great depth, and it shows.

All too often, we focus on the techniques themselves, the drills and repetition. These are certainly good and important, but equally important is to balance this with scenario-based pressure testing. Yes, sparring is one method of achieving this, but it is not the only method (and sparring has limitations too). Guro Paulo's seminar was rich with problem-solving opportunities. He provided guidelines and "rules" to focus our solutioning, and allowed us to discover and explore. This requires maturity (no ego) on the part of the problem-solvers, but is a great way to uncover interesting situations and deepen understanding. We had a lot of fun and repeatedly found good solutions to good problems. 

Having  spent decades in aikido, one common criticism is that it doesn't work on an unwilling opponent. I've addressed this in other posts, but I believe this is not due to the fundamental techniques themselves but rather to the method in which they are taught and trained. Having been to war, O-Sensei (Ueshiba Morihei) was far more interested in a safe, spiritual practice that promoted peace/harmony and longevity than he was in presenting a devastating combat art. This does not mean that aikido techniques cannot be efficient and effective. It does mean that when the training goal is connecting with the partner and avoiding injury, those techniques will not be framed with the intention of life and death survival. The context is wrong. Aikido principles still lie at the heart of a lot of elite LEO and operator combat training and I have been teaching them in an effective manner for more than a decade. 

Another example is Tai Chi's use of the long sword and other weapons, where the flowing, hypnotic movement looks detached from any practical application apart from health. There are very practical applications of Tai Chi for fighting, including weapons work, that are at least on par with other combat arts. However, these are rarely trained in that context. 

Guro Paulo emphasized the importance of pressure testing the sequences and movements. Famous in FMA are groups like the Dog Brothers, who have focused on "higher consciousness through harder impact", which sits at the extreme end of pressure testing. This is not for everyone, but the point is clear. In order to be confident that the techniques are valid and we can apply them with success, we need to approximate real-world situations as much as we can (safely) do.

Pressuring ourselves is important not only to prove the effectiveness of our martial arts responses, but also to develop our ability to manage stress and perform when situations are critical. When we keep the pressure and intensity but reduce the speed and power, we create environments where problem-solving and discovery can be developed in depth.

A full-day was not enough to fully grasp everything that Guro Paulo had to show. I am excited to see him again next year and challenge myself on his level 1 instructor track. It's a great way to add additional dimensions to how we train in KM and continue to provide the best training for our students.

Salamat Po for the great training, Guro Paulo. See you next year (or before)! 

The Great Debate

 

He and I been friends a long time. In fact, he was one of the first who believed in me. We've shared countless meals, drinks and chats about many different topics over the years. We've traveled together many times and enjoyed our time together (and still do). Last night, however, we disagreed.

Not a mild disagreement, rather a fundamental disagreement about how society should function and how we should function as part of it. Both of us were passionate about our positions. Both of us were adamant. We tried, in vain, to persuade each other to accept our arguments. We tried to show why we were "right". In the end, our opinions were not changed. If anything, they were galvanized. That's OK.

What was really important was that we could disagree; deeply disagree. Passionately disagree. Yet still remain friends. We understood each other's positions. We accepted the logic, even though neither of us was swayed by the other. Through the argument we each gained a deeper insight into the other's perspective and came away with a newfound respect. At the end of the night, we hugged each other like we always do with no bitterness or hostility. Nothing but love.

There was no need to resort to personal attacks or character assassination. There was no need for shouting or threatening or insulting. Our disagreement did not damage our friendship or result in anger. We simply have opposing views on a topic of grave importance to us both. That's OK.

My country was founded on a two-party system designed to promote exactly the kind of dialog we had. It was deliberately structured so that both parties could have opposing views and through debate decide what outcome would be the most acceptable (or least unacceptable) to both sides. This method forces compromise and cooperation, as well as helping make sure both sides always get at least part of what they wanted.

It's very disappointing that these days we cannot disagree without it descending into visceral hatred and  potential violence. We are all stuck in our microtribalism and living in echo chambers where we never really get an opportunity to safely challenge each other and discuss the important issues of our time in a respectful way. We actively avoid anyone who doesn't share the exact same beliefs we do. We seek to reinforce our confirmation bias at every opportunity, afraid of ever being wrong or, God forbid, persuaded to change our minds.  This is not healthy for us nor for society writ large.

Sadly, our leaders model the worst possible behavior and spread lies and personal attacks rather than accurate information and persuasive logic. It is increasingly difficult to find quality news and information and every day it is more challenging to find the truth hidden in all the misinformation. We are disillusioned and mistrustful of everything that doesn't align with our personal worldview.

I yearn for a simpler time when we could actively debate our way forward. I wish we could get rid of all the poisonous rhetoric and focus on the facts in order to decide the path that brings the most benefit to the majority of Americans (not just the billionaires). I wish I could trust again.

I'm grateful for having the kinds of friends, true friends, that I can disagree with. It's a blessing.

Smashing It

 

(Thanks for the inspiration David)

This weekend we met David and his lovely daughter. David is a junior high school teacher, which means he has nearly infinite patience given that he needs to navigate early-stage teenagers through one of the most challenging periods of their lives. He is a direct, no-nonsense guy, and it turns out I had some things to learn from him, too.

One of David's favorite phases is "smash it". Over the course of the weekend, we "smashed" snowboarding runs (Naeba), "smashed" our breakfasts, and even "smashed" some of the party games he had prepared to entertain us on Saturday night. I came to love that phrase and have been thinking about it all weekend.

These days we are inundated with data and information to an overwhelming degree. People can't stop looking at their phones, at Youtube/TikTok/Instagram/Facebook/Snapchat. We have so much news and content coming at us it's becoming harder and harder to determine what is true, what is real (not AI-generated), what to focus on or prioritize, and even when to act. We often feel like if we wait just a little longer, we might get new/better information to make better decisions. We get stuck in "analysis paralysis" and end up doing nothing at all. I asked David about his phrase and he explained that, having grown up on a farm, there were always chores to be done no matter the day of the week or the weather. They simply had to be done every day. These were not deep-thought experiments. They were tasks that had both vital importance to the farm operation and were shared across the family members. Standing around was not going to help. In such cases, David advised, the best approach was to just smash it out ("get it done"). I was reminded that it is critically important to live with a sense of urgency; a bias to action. This mindset helps us prioritize and then just get moving, get busy so we can get things done.

I thought of a passage in Yamamoto Tsunetomo's famous book "Hagakure" (Hidden leaves) , which was his treatise on Bushido for young samurai. He wrote "The Way of the samurai is one of immediacy. It is best to dash in headlong." This does not condone foolhardiness, rather it is rewarding the notion that when we know what must be done we must not hesitate. This is also referred to as "Right Action in the Right Moment" and is an aspirational outcome of good zen practice.

In fighting particularly, it is important to learn how to recognize danger and, when we do, to act boldly without hesitation until the matter is resolved rather than waiting for a situation to escalate out of control. This decisiveness gives us the best chance of minimizing risk and injury, not only to ourselves, but to others (including our attacker(s)). Decisiveness is not to be underestimated.

There is a time for long and deliberate reflection, of course. However, in general we would all do well to have a constant sense of urgency about living our lives, and to do so with decisiveness and immediacy.

Thank you for the lesson, David-Sensei!

Let's Smash it at training!

Eyes that See

 

Some martial arts classes are nothing but constant motion - long repetition of the same techniques over and over again. Almost no talking, no explanation. Drills and Kata are done by observing the instructor and mimicking his/her movements while the instructor drifts around the class correcting everything. This was my original dojo in suburban Chicago. It was many traditional dojos I have trained at across aikido and kenjutsu particularly. However, in my original dojo, for every hour I spent on the mat I had at least another hour of self-study “homework”. Sometimes books to read or VHS (in those days), sometimes meditations to do, sometimes lectures or discussions. I kept detailed notes and we always brought a notebook and pen to training. Always.

My teacher required us to be versed in history and philosophy of warfare/combat and to read and study constantly (in addition to my schoolwork). Often he would host discussions and once I became Deshi (disciple) it was constant. Every car ride or meal would have these dialogs and I knew to come prepared. This has formed the foundation of my approach to studying martial arts since then.

If you've been to one of my classes you quickly realize I have my own way of teaching that is a bit different from other dojos. We cover at least three subsystems in each session, but we have almost two hours of class time so I don't feel hard-pressed to rush through thousands of reps. Instead, I try to give background and context for the techniques, frameworks, patterns or drills we do rather than just do them mindlessly. To me, it's very important to emphasize the WHY of what we do.

Like any skill, at the beginning martial arts is awkward and requires our body to learn entirely new ways of moving. We struggle with even basic movements and battle our own frustration. Watching our instructors seemingly effortlessly demonstrate each technique doesn't really make us feel any better, and we often forget that they went through the same process themselves once, eventually practicing the techniques enough to become proficient. In this stage of learning, rote memorization, muscle memory to be exact, is the usual goal. We are laying the foundation and building the scaffolding for a future in martial arts. In music, this would be the equivalent of just playing the scales and chords over and over. It's important for our fingers to move seamlessly on the fret or keyboard. At the same time, this is why so many people (including me) quit music practice. Good music study is far more than just putting your fingers on the instrument. That is just one component.

I emphasize the why because I want to prepare students from day one for a future that will allow them to go beyond the drills I teach them. I want them to understand how the human body works, its strong and weak points. I want them to learn how to use their own bodies correctly to generate power and control distance. I want them to understand timing and cadence, and to truly appreciate the importance of strategy and tactics in fighting. In the end, I want them to look at all martial arts with the eyes of a professional - someone who understands at a glance what is going on. I want them to become self-learners, able to absorb content, ideas and inspiration effectively from any sources available. In music, these are those musicians who can improvise and pay by ear, who can read music but also write music - musicians with their own voice and playing style - comfortable across genres and instruments.

These are students who will one day be excellent instructors, with the depth of knowledge and understanding to prepare future generations to carry on our legacy - that of Punong Guro Fred Evrard, Guro Lila, Guro Ben and the rest of our legendary instructors. As Sigung Bruce said "the highest technique is to have no technique". Of course this is not possible at the beginning, but it is a worthy goal to move beyond drills or patterns into pure movement and expression. FLOW, after all, is the goal.

Achieving this worthy goal requires far more than just rote muscle memory. It requires a bit of academic study, a bit of theory, a bit of culture and a bit of philosophy as well as 10,000 hours on the mats themselves. I am grateful that PG Fred instilled these in all of us. His deep, lifelong study is reflected in the many excellent books he wrote, as well as the many hours in class and at camps which he shared with all of us. We were always free to ask questions, and free to discover answers on our own, too. Most of us spent a lot of time outside of class training, but also reading, watching, attending seminars and documenting our journeys. These were all important to develop our eyes. This is how we learned to truly see the journey and to better appreciate it.

So no, I don't teach a "Kali-cize" class. If people want that there are many other dojos or studios for it. What I do teach is the distillation of 45 years of martial arts study (18 of those in Kali Majapahit) and training with some of the world's greatest martial arts instructors. I am still constantly learning new material and studying/researching to deepen my own understanding. My goal in every class is to provide full access to my knowledge and experience, in the hopes that it makes each student's journey richer and their understanding more complete. I hope they will come to love Kali and the martial arts as much as I do and enjoy a lifetime of discovery as I have done.

See you at class

      

Fighting Back

 

Like many people, I started in martial arts because I wanted to fight. Not fight per se, Fight Back. I had been bullied mercilessly for almost ten years in public school. Nearly every day I was assaulted, physically or emotionally. I had to have constant supervision by the school staff for my protection. I had to stay within sight of teachers during lunch and recess and was escorted to my classrooms by faculty to make sure I wouldn't get attacked in between lessons. I was sent home from school early so that the bullies could not catch me before I got home. Somehow, they still found a way. I wanted revenge more than anything. That's what I thought at the time, anyway.

Over several years, and with good instruction, I learned that I wasn't in martial arts to fight others so much as I was learning to fight myself - learning to combat my weakness, my laziness, my doubts and fears so that ultimately I would be immune to bullying. I would become strong enough to push past obstacles and confident enough to live my life my way regardless of anyone else. This took a long time, but it laid the foundation for everything I have become and achieved throughout my life. I truly believe that without martial arts training I would have failed as a person. The training has saved my life again and again, mostly from myself rather than from others. This is why I am dedicated to sharing this gift as an instructor, in the hopes that other lives can be saved, too.

Along the way I also learned that most fights are not in the streets or back alleys. Most fights are the fights we have every day to remain true to our beliefs and to resist the messages of media and propaganda that would pull us away from our center. The news is depressing and hopeless, hammering us with negativity and rage baiting us into hating one another. Social media pressures us to try to achieve unrealistic lifestyles at the cost of our physical and mental health. We are made to believe we are incomplete and lacking in everything we are told we should want; told repeatedly that "more is better" and that we are not enough. We are forced to have "hustle" in order to make other people wealthier while we suffer from burnout and depression. We define ourselves by our LinkedIn profile and our job title. Meanwhile we feel empty inside.

In the end, the simplicity of being happy feels unachievable. We start to accept that the world is in entropy and ending right before our eyes, and that we are powerless to save it. We are broken again and again. Mostly we are heartbroken over the never ending feelings of loss that engulf us. We are bewildered by the feeling that something fundamental is missing from our lives.

Martial arts training can help. Through our time in the dojo we can remove distractions. One step at a time, one class at a time, we can develop focus and discipline. We can challenge our minds and bodies. We can set and achieve goals and be recognized. We can be equal. We can find fellowship and develop lifelong friends who will support each other. We can develop the courage to fight back against all the negativity and strengthen our resolve to be the best version of ourselves, without tying that to guilt over who we are today. We can remember that we are enough. And that we can still be MORE. We realize we can make a difference. We matter. We are not alone.

These are trying times. Times that need warriors. Peaceful Warriors. Times that need people like us.

Let's make 2026 the year we FIGHT.

Together.

For all of us.  

Farewell Chuck

 

I met Chuck Mauldin in 1991, during the summer just before I turned fourteen years old. He was 18 and had just graduated high school, and was also the senior student of Randy Moore, aka Sabutai Musashi, Head of the Eternal Dragon School of Ninjutsu in suburban Chicago, a place that would mark my first seven years as the beginning of my 45-year (so far) journey in the martial arts. The Eternal Dragon School was a very traditional dojo that taught Ninjutsu and other budo, and until I was 21 it was basically my home away from home. Chuck became a mentor to me during my critical teenage years and I am very grateful for having had such good fortune.

Chuck was a state-class track and field competitor in high school and a perfect role model for the beginning of my martial arts life. He was a stern disciplinarian, but always took the time to teach and explain, and to carefully instruct me in every technique. More than that, Chuck taught me through his actions and words that martial arts were first and foremost a mental discipline, a physical chess of strategy and tactics that would be won by the smarter man; the man with the greatest willpower. Over the years we trained together, I'm sure I never beat him in sparring, I'm sure I never even came close. That said, he always made me feel like I had done OK, and that my skills were improving. The mark of a truly great senpai.

After college, he became a law enforcement professional, working as a dispatcher for the DuPage county sheriff's department and later in the private sector as a professional bodyguard. He guarded many notable celebrities and executives, eventually becoming a highly sought-after executive security consultant and instructor at the prestigious ESI Academy in Colorado. From time to time he would visit Japan for work and very kindly would always find time to catch up over a meal.

Chuck inspired me to walk the warrior path originally, even more so than my teachers at the time. He showed me what this life could be and who I could become if I ever learned to master myself the way he had (I'm still working on it). The times when he would pick me up at school and drop me off after training were filled with him sharing the wisdom and knowledge I desperately needed, like the big brother I always wished I had. I was immensely proud of the life he made for himself and maybe, in a certain way, he was proud of me too. I'd like to think he respected me for making my life in Japan and staying on the path all these years, even if it was never my full-time occupation like it was for him.

A month ago, our mutual friend Ray, now retired from the DuPage county sheriff's department, let me know that Chuck had suffered a severe stroke and was now in a wheelchair. That was very hard for me to imagine, since I can only picture him as being larger than life, dynamic and physical. It was even harder this morning to receive news of his untimely passing. Part of me feels he just couldn't accept being anything less than the superhero he had been all of his life, and chose to let go on his own terms. A true warrior to his last breath.

The world is a darker place today with him being gone. I'm so grateful for the knowledge and wisdom he invested in me. He will never be forgotten.

I will miss you, Chuck, my senpai, my friend. I'll see you again before too long.

Rest In Power 

The Value of Opinions - resistance and resilience

 

The world has become very polarized in recent years. It feels like somehow public opinions have shifted to extremes, as the media accentuates our differences rather than highlight what the majority of us have in common.

On one hand, many people excuse their lack of critical thinking or research skill by claiming that their opinions, however fantastical, should be not just protected but embraced. On the other hand, we see an unprecedented and draconian crackdown on the freedom of speech itself which, for Americans like me, is the bedrock of our democratic society. Many people now falsely believe that in addition to their right to have and voice their opinion, that they should be allowed to impose their beliefs on other people against their will, denying them the same equal freedom of expression. 

The Truth, as always, lies somewhere in the middle.

Perhaps in a well-meaning effort to avoid offending so-called "marginal" members of our society, we have failed to challenge even the most outrageous viewpoints. People are allowed to excuse intellectual laziness, a lack of curiosity and indulgence in fantasy by hiding behind a seemingly impenetrable wall of entitlement and malaise that somehow make living in modern society challenging at best, impossible at worst.

Everyone, in his/her/they/their own way now has an increasingly desperate need to be "seen". To be validated and endorsed by society and treated like the unique and special snowflakes they know they are. As brilliantly stated by arch-villain Syndrome in the 2004 movie "The Incredibles", "Everyone can be super...and when everyone is super, no one will be". 

Modern young people identify with a long list of tick-boxes covering every perceived limitation, using these excuses as a way of avoiding anything challenging or bothersome. In fact, not claiming all your potential disabilities (ADHD/spectrum, anxiety, stress, gender fluidity, etc) may be a disadvantage since these labels conveniently afford a variety of benefits (including actual monetary benefits). Many of them are highly subjective and extremely difficult to validate, so in effect, you are if you say you are. I can't think of anyone (including myself) who has not been plagued by anxiety, for example, but at what point would it be considered debilitating?

This results in a society where people continue to claim exemptions and benefits they may not truly need, thereby denying these scarce resources to others who might need them more. Everyone ends up calling in sick at the slightest hint of inconvenience or bother, and society becomes just a series of half-hearted excuses for why we just "didn't feel like it" on any given day. Of course, real mental health issues are very serious, and need effective coping strategies. It is here that the lines get blurry.

In the end, the crisis of society has been a loss of the essential quality of maturity - Resilience

As my dear friend "Physics Man" correctly pointed out over our recent pizza lunch (where we solve all the problems of the world over pizza slices and draft beer), resilience requires resistance.

We talked about our fathers' (and their fathers') generation. They grew up in hardship and war and faced tremendous challenges to survive. Many endured unbelievable tragedy and loss and yet still found a way to raise us with abundance. They faced life head-on and stalwartly kept moving forward like the heroes they were. They hardly complained, but rather just got on with things. They did not document their victories with selfies. The extreme resistance they faced resulted in their unbreakable resilience. You simply cannot have one without the other.   

In the past, we were free to challenge each other's opinions. In academics, debate and discussion were key aspects of learning and we were expected to develop strong critical thinking and logical skills to be able to make and defend our perspectives. We learned to argue our merits on the basis of logic but also on the basis of emotion (morality) and to bring the data to back up what we believed. Outrageous claims and hypotheses were quickly debunked and, hopefully, we all learned how to engage in the spirited dialog that leads to understanding.

Somewhere along the way, however, in our desire to create "safe spaces" and avoid "triggering" people, we stopped challenging each other. Not only were we expected to respect others rights to have opinions, and to voice opinions, but we were expected to tolerate them and embrace them, however fantastical. In line with the law of unintended consequences, by failing to provide any resistance to ideas which were clearly devoid of merit we created a society where we no longer become mentally resilient.

Yes, in a spirit of compassion we should allow space for the vulnerable to be themselves. We must grant them a voice and empower them to stand up and be proud of their authenticity. We should defend and protect those in need. This includes not only the right to an opinion but also the right to voice it. Without this, our society can never prosper.

At the same time, we must offer resistance as needed. This must not be permitted to be done with malice or cruelty. It can and should be done with directness and kindness. We must continue to challenge fantasy (and misinformation) with truthfulness, data and logic. We must continue to challenge each other to be able to contribute to society as much as possible; to be net givers rather than net takers wherever possible. To find a way to move forward despite limitations. To challenge ourselves and each other to do and be more - to strive for our true personal excellence. This means working toward a positive and inclusive society that does not excuse mediocrity or laziness but requires that each of us continue to do the very best we can, together. This is also compassion. There is virtue in achievement and resilience. 

Herein lies the martial arts.

My training has enabled me to face all of life's challenges and my own limitations and rise to meet them. Rather than making excuses, I developed the discipline to find my way and navigate the various challenges I faced, both internal and external. I failed a lot, and still do. Nevertheless, I became strong enough to stand back up and keep going. I am a believer that martial arts is a great way to build the resistance that helps us become truly resilient to the hardships of life.

Likewise, the study of zen constantly reminds us of our own infinite smallness. This is so important, lest we succumb to the ego and start to believe in our own importance. Yes, we have the right to opinions and yes, we have the right for those opinions to be voiced. However, for the most part, our opinions, however valid, are of no importance to anyone but ourselves. The quest for truth and wisdom is indeed a solitary one.

As I approach my 59th birthday, I will continue to build my resilience to the challenges of my life. I will abhor excuses and try to face my failings with grace. I will continue to develop my opinions and remind myself to keep them to myself unless asked. I will do my best to avoid trying to persuade others to follow my beliefs and allow them to have their own. I will continue to respectfully challenge others and require them to develop their keen logical minds as I develop mine. I will remind myself often of my insignificance and the wonder I feel at the privilege of being alive. I will continue to love and allow myself to be loved.

See you at class.

 

 

Sais Matters

 

It was yet another fantastic weekend seminar with Cikgu Maul Mornie, foremost expert in Silat Suffian Bela Diri (SSBD), a well-known Bruneian fighting art. The Sultanate of Brunei is located on the Malay peninsula and is home to a very effective style of Silat.

This weekend, the focus was the tekpi, seen in Okinawan Kobudo as the sai. That, however, is where the resemblance ends. Similar weapons, perhaps, but very different in their training and application. As Cikgu Maul explains, the tekpi are principally used for striking, raking and stabbing, but also as training tools. Weighing a hefty 1kg each, the tekpi serve to condition the forearms, shoulders and back for effective striking and blocking in kuntao. In a sense, they are Silat "kettlebells". Repetition is key here, with the opening and closing used to develop coordination, forearm and grip strength and good hand position for trapping, grabbing and striking.

In Okinawan kobudo, the sai is regularly moved back and forth from closed to open positions. However, when used in silat, this is only done for conditioning purposes. In fighting, the tekpi is deployed in the open position from start to finish, thus offering extended reach and powerful impact when swung.

While the tekpi has some unique applications owing to its forked design, it is basically a short metal bar, so in striking it is almost guaranteed to disable or break anything it hits including head, arms/hands or knees. As a stabbing or raking tool, it concentrates tremendous impact force at the tip and can be used to skewer an unfortunate opponent.

Cikgu Maul spent a lot of time on the first day explaining and showing the proper grip and manipulation of this interesting weapon. In my experience of kobudo weapons nearly 45 years ago, there was not enough focus on this. As such, the sai were cumbersome and hard to manipulate effectively, so I focused on other weapons (kama) instead. Had I gotten the same instruction back then, the tekpi would have certainly been fascinating and intriguing to explore over the years.

Proper training with the tekpi encourages good distance management and footwork, and can help understand the mechanics of striking, pinning and disarms as well. In SSBD fights are ended very directly but for training purposes movements are combined to allow richer exploration and develop fluency.

This was my sixth seminar with Cikgu Maul. Every time he is able to provide simple, elegant answers to various martial arts questions I have had. Studying tekpi with him changed my understanding of this important tool. If you ever have the opportunity to train with him, don't miss it. SSBD is legitimately one of the most interesting and thorough martial arts systems I have seen, and Cikgu Maul is a fantastic example of the three key elements of elite Silat practitioners: Hormat (respect), Hina diri (humility) and Halus (refinement).

See you at class. 

Scars

 

Here is my latest scar. Well on its way to becoming a scar, anyway. Somehow, I ended up with a large cyst (tennis ball-sized) on my back between my shoulder blades, which subsequently became inflamed and ultimately had to be cut open, drained and later completely removed. The above is the result of almost 3 weeks of back-and-forth to the hospital. Stitches came out last Friday and my final visit (hopefully) will be this Friday. Thankfully, I haven't had a surgery in a very long time and had forgotten the process. Lots of consent forms and explanations, lots of downtime, lots of medications.

If you are going to get surgery, I recommend getting it done in Japan. Language issues notwithstanding, this country has very affordable, extremely high quality healthcare (are you listening USA?). My outpatient surgery out-of-pocket was about $120. I think the same procedure in the US would have been several thousand dollars at least. The fact that Japan invented sashimi might have something to do with the quality of the incision, too. In the picture you can see a drain on the right to help speed healing. They really do think of everything, don't they?

In the many hours to and from the hospital, waiting in the waiting room, waiting at the pharmacy, and so on I had plenty of time to think about things.

We often think of scars as ugly or embarrassing, symbols of some accident, bad luck, misfortune or just bad judgement. Stitches are a sign we did something wrong or that God doesn't like us and visited calamity upon us. We hide our scars and try not to talk about them. Scars make other people uncomfortable. Sometimes scars make for good party conversation, involving real (or contrived) stories about how we might have gotten them. Scars make a person look like a "tough guy" (or girl). Beautiful people don't have them. In some cases, surgical scars mean a part of us was removed, making us somehow no longer "whole" or "complete". It is said the best surgeries leave no scars at all. Taking care of surgical scars requires patience. Good hygiene is required to keep the wounds from becoming infected. Rest and recovery are needed so the wounds close properly. Skin care is used to minimize discoloration. A scar is almost like an "involuntary tattoo". Lots to think about and pay attention to.

Scars tell a story, too. Our story. They show we are survivors. After all, you only get scars if you survive. They show we can heal, we can recover. We can endure and persevere. We can move on, even if it hurts sometimes. Our scars do not define us, but they help explain our journey, and what happened along the way. They are the chronicle that we wear all day, every day.

Scars are not just on the outside, either. Sometimes the ones on the inside reflect greater injury than the ones we can see. Sometimes those take even longer to heal. Some never fully heal.

I would not say I'm proud of my scars. I would rather say that I have learned to accept them as part of who I am. I've made peace with them. My scars are part of my record which documents my limited time here on Earth. My scars are proof that I did not sit idly by, I got involved and took some risks. My story has been many things but it has never been boring. My scars prove that. I won't win any beauty contests, but that was never my goal, anyway.

I've got plenty of scars - inside and out. Now I've got another one. But I'm still standing.

See you at class 

The Lonely Path of The Warrior

 

When I started my journey I was 14 years old. I had been bullied for years and was angry and hurt. I wanted revenge on my tormentors. I was also a teenager, and struggling with the mental, emotional and physical challenges that come with starting the transition toward adulthood. I was in crisis. I needed something to keep me from losing my way.

My first dojo was very traditional. We sat in seiza when shihan bowed on or off the mats and whenever he demonstrated techniques. We never spoke to him unless spoken to first and never called him anything but "shihan" or "sir". There were punishments (dozens of pushups or long kibadachi sessions) if any dojo rules were violated, but of course they never were (at least not be me). Still, for some reason, I loved the dojo. I became a deshi to my teacher and trained every day for the next seven years. In the summers I usually lived at his house. I did chores and we trained intensively. In retrospect, I needed the harsh discipline and guidance to learn to focus myself. I believe that without it, I wouldn't have made it.

For every hour of training on the mats, I always had at least another hour of academic study in addition to my usual schoolwork. My teacher had me read all the martial arts classics (translated into English, of course) and we discussed them at length. I was especially fascinated by The Book of Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi. It is a classic text of swordsmanship/strategy by someone considered to be the greatest of all. Undefeated in literally hundreds of duels, he famously killed the most prominent fighter of the time, Sasaki Kojiro, with a single blow to the head using a boat oar he carved into a wooden sword on the way to the duel. Musashi is said to have developed the famed Nitoryu or "two sword style" which is often referenced by modern swordsmen but far less often understood. Miyamoto Musashi was irreverent, a commoner rather than a samurai, unrefined - unbeatable. To teenage Me, he was the most perfect antihero. I studied him enthusiastically.

In those days, I read that the warrior path was a lonely one. Constant training under all conditions, meditation, stoicism. These appealed to the loner in me, too. Like Musashi, I felt alone and unwanted, misunderstood, an outcast, but that somehow there might also be greatness in me.

The truth, after 45 years of this life, is very, very different.

The reality is that the warrior path has been many things to me, but never, ever lonely. At every stage and in every dojo, I have always been surrounded by fellow truth-seekers. People like me trying to use the martial arts as an anchor to stabilize, rebuild and improve their lives. People who are seeking to discover purpose and meaning in a life that can feel overwhelmed by materialism and mainstream media. People seeking stillness and wanting to deepen their spirituality. Through this life I have met men and women of all ages and backgrounds, rich and poor. They have become my lifelong companions - my extended family. In every case, they have welcomed and embraced me, flaws and all. Never judging me or my past, and willing to take me at face value for how I am both on and off the mats. I have learned from and been inspired by fellow students, instructors, parents, partners and everyone in between. All of them have given me valuable insight into the importance of The Path.

Over the years, we have opened up our homes to each other. More than that, we have opened our hearts. We have shared our joys, our pain, our fears and our hopes together in deep conversations dripping in sweat after hard workouts. We've shared countless meals, sometimes after literally trying to kill each other. We've pushed each other to the breaking point again and again, but always with love and encouragement. We've showed up for each other with unwavering loyalty. At camps we are all like family, instantly bonded even if we are meeting for the first time. When we meet the first hour or so is usually just hugging each other and catching up, instantly reconnected and back in tune even if it's been months or even years since we last met.

I tell people that martial arts is very different from other hobbies or sports. I can't imagine forging the kind of lifetime friendships I have had in a fitness gym or playing community softball or at the dog park. Not even church created the kind of fellowship I found in the dojos where I trained. There's something special about what we do and the people who dedicate themselves to it.

The martial arts teaches us about life and death. Sometimes in training we become focused on the lethality of what we learn. However, it's also important to remember how much martial arts teaches us about LIFE and living - how much it enriches us through the depth of the friendships we make.

I want to take this moment to recognize and be grateful for the importance of the relationships I have had during the past 45 years in the martial arts community. I have been truly blessed to know you all, my brothers and sisters, and have continued to try and be worthy of your love and respect. You bring out the very best in me. Thank you for the challenges and for your enduring support. I love you.

See you at class.

(GUEST POST) Fight Like a Girl: In the Dojo, in Life, and Without Apology

 

I am proud to present a guest article by my dear friend and training partner: Guro Vicky. Enjoy!

I’ve been a female martial artist for over a decade. My journey has been carved through pain, injuries, and a relentless battle against stereotypes and the unforeseen challenges in life. The price wasn’t just physical; it was often emotional and deeply personal. Even today, the fierce battle to hold onto the privilege of being a martial artist continues for me.

It takes immense courage and perseverance to be a woman in martial arts. I'm not just talking about the sweat and bruises; I'm talking about the way you're sometimes made to feel.

I started Muay Thai 13 years ago. It was my first stepping stone into martial arts, a path that would shape my discipline, my fire, and my voice. Within the first few weeks of training, came the first remark: “Women should not be in martial arts.”

It came from a male chauvinist, my neighbor and, at the time, a family friend. But instead of discouraging me, it lit something fierce inside. “Oh yeah? Watch me.”

Ever heard the saying, “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend?” As if a woman can only be appeased with riches and luxuries. I’ve never been able to relate. I’m the woman who sold my jewelry to afford gloves and gear when I had no other means. My best friends have always been the gloves and the grit.

Since then, I’ve trained in countless dojos and classes, meeting all kinds of people, men and women.

• Some who uplift.
• Some who undermine.
• Some who teach with humility.
• Others with ego.

On Sharing Knowledge

There are partners who, when you try to teach or share a drill, can't resist trying to "prove" why it won't work. Instead of trying the technique, they use brute force to show physical dominance. This is not a productive exchange; it’s a subtle power play that invalidates your knowledge. It's an ego-driven test, and I refuse to participate. If you can’t handle your own ego-powered move, don't blame me for my reaction.

This same mindset leads others to imply, subtly or directly, that you are inadequate. You might be singled out for using "too much" strength, even when your partner was the one who couldn't control their own intensity. Then there’s the assumption that you’ll only be comfortable training with women. Ahem, I signed up for a mixed martial arts dojo for a reason.

And to the guys who rely on brute force instead of refining their technique, I hope you know how to survive a brutal attack someday when all that strength and muscle fail you.

Sometimes you’re dealing with instructors whose egos are larger than a hot air balloon. They are never wrong, and you always are. It seems you’re just a woman, so you're not supposed to be right, are you? Even if you have trained in martial arts longer than they have. You’re just supposed to stand there and listen in awe. Point noted but not accepted.

I've stood there, a black belt, watching a male trainee be instinctively chosen to demonstrate a technique that requires pain tolerance, speed, or resilience. To the instructor’s credit, he cared to explain why he chose a man: “So I can go harder on him to demonstrate what the technique can do.” Or, “It’s more appropriate to demonstrate a technique to the solar plexus on a man for example.”

I don't get it. Why not demonstrate how to train with a woman in a respectful manner without ending up inappropriately touching her? Are you implying female black belts have never withstood tough hits and got an easy way out to attain our rank? The explanation didn't convince me. It only made me wonder, Why am I even here?

Body as Vessel, wait- but for what purpose?

Speaking of pain, one evening, after clearing four towering stacks of paperwork at my day job, I still showed up for training. Exhausted, but unwilling to quit. During kickboxing, I was adjusting the straps on my pads when my partner launched a full roundhouse kick, straight into my right wrist.

No warning. No check-in. Just impact. BAM.

The pain was immediate and severe; it almost knocked my lights out. My instructor brushed it off as a sprain and left, but it turned out to be a hairline fracture. I couldn't lift my forearm for six weeks. An older colleague noticed the guard I was wearing and asked how I got injured. When I explained what had happened, he said, “If you keep getting injured like this, how will you carry your kids someday?”

I didn’t answer, but inside, I asked myself: Had I been a man, would he have said the same thing? Why is my body always seen as a vessel for motherhood before it’s seen as a vessel for mastery? Why am I expected to prioritize hypothetical children over my very real passion?

The sudden enthusiasm

A few years later, I stepped into a Ninjutsu academy. New space. New style. Same fire.

One day, I was the only female trainee in the room. The guys were feeding pads for one another with full energy and engagement. When it was my turn, I partnered with one of them. Moments before, he had been hyped up, but when I stood in front of him, his energy vanished. He looked disinterested, didn't brace the pads properly, and didn't even bother to hold them with care.

I felt it. That quiet dismissal. That subtle assumption: She won’t hit hard. She won’t last.

But within a minute, everything changed. After a few strikes, he asked, "Have you done boxing before?"

I told him I had trained in Muay Thai and kickboxing for some years. His eyes lit up. Suddenly, he was feeding with passion and giving me tips.

I thought to myself: Why wasn’t this enthusiasm there at the start? Why did I have to prove myself first? Why is a woman’s intensity underestimated until it’s undeniable?

This is the quiet test we are always made to take. Not of skill, but of worth. Not of technique, but of legitimacy.

Choosing My Passion

I don’t train to be accepted or to be a badass. I train because martial arts is for everyone- It is the best way to lead life, the best therapy. It belongs to me too, and I will not seek permission or validation to be powerful. That’s also why I show up on days my body is screaming. Days when I have cramps so sharp they make me double over. But I still spar. I still take hits and punches to the abdomen and everywhere else, while I have cramps. Wait- But I am still incapable of taking hits like the guys right? Sure.

No one adjusts the drills. No one softens the pace. I do the same kind of training as the guys. Same intensity, same expectations. I do it with a silent, invisible pain. So are all other female trainees all around the world.

Enjoying life means romancing a man?

In the days leading up to my graduation and progression to an advanced belt in KM, an elderly trainee once asked me, "Do you not have a life? You should be enjoying your youth with your boyfriend." He laughed as he said it, turning to others to seek validation for his “point” but his joke felt deeply demeaning. It was a rude reminder that my dedication was not seen as a valid pursuit, but something silly.

I paused. Not because I didn’t have a fitting reply, but because his question revealed more about his pathetic assumptions about a woman’s happiness than about me.

Who says I'm not enjoying myself? I am enjoying training, just not a boyfriend. Why should a woman’s joy always be expected to orbit around romance, marriage, or children? Why is discipline mistaken for deprivation? Why is a woman’s time questioned when it’s spent on and for herself?

My journey isn't just my own. It's a tiny part of a legacy of women warriors who, throughout history, have refused to shrink to fit stereotypes. We are the ones who break the molds. We are fierce, and that's not just a compliment; it's our superpower. We've seen women training on par with their male counterparts while bleeding, after giving birth, after a distressing life event, or after a heartbreak. We refuse to be damsels in distress. We refuse to take the backseat. The real competition has never been with a fellow trainee, male or female, it has always been with ourselves, to become a better version at every stage. I may have never stepped into a ring to fight, but I fight in life every single day. Martial arts keeps me resilient.

To the men who stand as our pillars and push us to discover our potential, Thank You! You are amazing. But to those who aren't, are you competing with us or with your own insecurities?

To every woman who has ever felt out of place in a dojo, or in any space where her passion is belittled, ridiculed or questioned, this is my message to you: Your worth, knowledge and efforts are not up for debate. Your passion is not up for permission. Don’t let anyone else’s insecurities or ego define your journey. Show up, train hard and fight like a girl- not as a cliche, but as a statement of unwavering power, resilience and unapologetic grit. The mat belongs to you just as much as it belongs to anyone else. Rock On!