Deepening the “Way”
Filed under: Admired Martial Artists Month, Guest Post
By Maj. Bill Hayes, USMC (Ret.)
“Old Student” of Shobayashi-ryu Karate-do
Each of us engaged in serious martial arts training has a desire to develop our martial skills to the fullest – it would make no sense for us to commit to hard and complex training in a traditional or classical dojo with the full intention of remaining unskilled. Yet, when some of us examine more closely what it is we actually doin the dojo we may come to realize that we are, at least on occasion, impeding our own develop.
Take, for instance, our desire to develop “warrior mindsets” when involved in application training. The mental aspect of such training is meant to bolster our physical ability to inflict necessary, ethically justified, injury upon a real attacker. Accordingly, one would be foolish to approach such a “heavy” endeavor with the same attitude one might bring to a “lighter” weekend tournament match. Tournaments, despite their many manifest benefits, do not, as a matter of course, place us in peril of losing our lives or being maimed. Tournament fighters often operate with the understanding that a match may last for several minutes, during which time fighters can execute strategies and tactics while protected by the rules of fair play, good officials, and a pound and a half of safety equipment.
On the other hand, “Life Protection” practitioners well understand (and accept the fact) that their next physical engagement may be their last one and, rather than thinking that they have several minutes to “do their stuff” (score points), their overriding concern is the death or disablement of the opponent in front of them – right now. (Remember that when it comes to Life Protection the fundamental mindset involved is always a quantal one – your opponent will live or your opponent will die – or – you will live or you will die.) Hard-core, yes, but “appropriate” if our arts are to have combative substance, and vital if we are to survive the emotional burdens which routinely accompany and follow true encounters. By the way, we can have such depth without also having too much “darkness.”
When I was a young Marine studying in the Kin Village Rendo-Kan Hombu dojo on Okinawa, my teacher (Shimabukuro, Eizo, 10th Dan, Shobayashi-ryu Karate-do) related numerous stories of Life Protection encounters from To-de's early days. Shimabukuro, OSensei, recounted these events with great zeal after our daily training sessions and I never failed to marvel at them for their own sake as well as for the cultural and mindset contrasts they represented. For instance, in America, should a police officer, acting in the line of duty, be forced to draw his or her weapon and shoot an assailant they are immediately suspended from regular duties, their weapon is surrendered, and they are often told to see a "shrink," or some other counselor, "first thing Monday morning." On Okinawa-if a "Just Warrior" were forced to use his or her skills in defense of life and society-and did so successfully-they were given a party! Such warriors were welcomed back to their village with songs, dances, and a feast! Even the old Ryukyuan justice system was structured to facilitate such occurrences. Back then, if a "Just Warrior" was, for some reason, required to submit to arrest following a Life Protection incident, his fellow villagers were allowed to petition local authorities for his release. Not only was the release routinely granted, but, such "Bushi" were often subsequently honored by their feudal Lords with additional lands and titles for their courageous deeds. Quite a far cry from where we find ourselves in today's society.
Now, as a practical matter, how does one begin to train to develop Life Protection mindsets of old in today’s modern era? Initially, I recommend two basic “tools” – the first mental, the second physical – both involve our martial culture vessels – our kata.
Mental– live out of your imagination – not just your memory. Recall that imagination involves visualization (within kata) while memorization involves rote performance (of kata). Moreover, memorization leads to making choices made by others (executing the same “block”, responding with the same punch or kick – each and every time). Visualization, on the other hand, allows you to make choices possibly nevermade by anyone else before – a situation which you may face during a real encounter on some tomorrow. One method molds but limits you – the other frees you to perform response based movements – the essence of intuitive competence. Memorization is imposed from the outside and is fine during the “shaping” process which takes place during the first several years of training in dojos. Visualization is a product of your inner self and is an extension of skills displayed by dojo seniors (in good dojos).
Physical– this one’s really simple. While moving from memorization to visualization imagine or train with a partner who is holding an actual weapon. (The weapon can be a very short stick, a set of sai, or a Bo – using them all will force you to better appreciate the basic distances [near, mid-range, and far] as well as help you explore a slew of new angles – no matter what applications you’re working on.) Visualizing or actually facing a weapon will create a sense of urgency and also stirs a set of physiological responses which help prepare the body for combat – the adrenaline rush, increased heart rate, and more, can be “force multipliers” should Life Protection ever be necessary.
With respect for all that you are,
Bill Hayes
Bill Hayes is the award-winning author of, “My Journey With the Grandmaster.” He publishes a quarterly martial culture newsletter; is a “warrior wellness” consultant; and conducts seminars in the U. S. and Europe. He is a founding Subject Matter Expert for the U.S. Marine Corps' Martial Arts Program, is the Director of the Okinawan Shorin-ryu Karate-Do Research Society, and is also Director of the Shobayashi-Kan Training Group. You can reach him directly regarding any of the above by emailing him at oldstudent1 at cox dot net.
Eight Hawaiian Style
On Saturday, Big I turned eight years old. Eight is one of those exciting years like 16, 18, 21, and 25. At the age of eight, kids no longer need to sit in booster seats. It's an exciting age for all of us for that very reason. Down to just one kid in a booster seat, it's going to make life a lot easier.
Big I picked a luau theme for her party this year because I promised her I'd try to make her a volcano cake we saw on Food Network a few weeks ago. I don't know who was more excited about the dry ice "smoke," Big I or Mr. BBM. He spent much of the party running around with cups of dry ice, even when Big I was opening her presents and everyone was otherwise occupied.
It was pretty cool though; I must admit. A lot of decorated cakes taste pretty lousy, but this five layer red velvet cake was pretty awesome. We don't have much of it left, which is a good thing for my butt.
After the food (Hawaiian meatballs, cinnamon chips with fruit salsa, a 4 ft. sandwich, a fruit tray, and punch, we got busy with the limbo. The kids were loving going under my beater bo, but they weren't exactly doing it the right way. So, my Mom jumped in to show them how it's done. The woman can limbo.
So can my sister.
Apparently, it runs in the family genes. That's Big I, who has a very sore little stomach today.
Despite the fact that we all did our best to look tropical, Lil C decided she was going to wear her Christmas sweater. Some battles just aren't worth fighting so here she is, in all her Christmas glory.
Among Big I's gifts. . . lots of new clothes for the kid who grows two inches per night, about 10 new chapter books, and a field hockey stick and ball. If I can't make a warrior our of her with a bo, I'm going to do it with a field hockey stick.
Every year, I go back into my archives and read the posts I wrote for her on birthdays past. I had to laugh at the first one I wrote her, when she turned five. Read the last line and then go here. I'm glad I've kept my word.
I hope you had a great birthday Big I. I seriously can not believe I am the mother of an 8-year old. My how time flies. . .
If you'd like a chance to win an autographed CD from an international recording artist, then head to The BBM Review fast! The contest ends tomorrow!!!
How to Annoy Your Kid Keri Hilson Style
Mr. BBM has spent years wrecking favorite songs of mine for me. Usually he does so by inserting some disgusting lyric that tends to linger. There used to be this slow song I liked and now I seem to have completely blocked it from memory because he made the whole chorus about pooping. Crap like that is irritating.
However, last night I was trying to get Big I to move a little faster through her bedtime routine and I found a way to make it happen.
If you've been reading here long enough, then you know that I don't like the typical music that an average 30-something 29-year old Mom likes. My latest favorite song is by Keri Hilson and it's called "Turning me on." Actually, it's probably spelled "turnin' myon" or something because people who sing songs like that tend to do that. For example, one of the real words in his song is "'proachin'." That would be "approaching" for you non-R&B-inclined folks out there.
Since Big I is turning eight years old tomorrow (sob, sob), I figure the girl can take a shower without Mommy standing in the bathroom, but she has yet to believe in herself when it comes to her ability to wash all the soap out of her hair without me peeking in to give my blessing and approval. So, since she makes me stay in the bathroom, I need to find some way to keep myself busy. Last night, I decided to change some lyrics of my own in hopes that she would get sick of hearing me sing and tell me I could leave the bathroom.
Here are my lyrics. Feel free to play the video so you can hear the music and sing along if you'd like. Click here if you can't click from here.
Like this. . .
Big I's in the shower,
Shampoo bottle poppin'
You know just how to wash it,
You know just how to wash it,
You washin' your hair,
You washin' your hair,
You washin' your hair
Wait a minute, little Izzy
You got one more minute
To wash your naked body
Better recognize you're dirty
Better make sure that you wash it,
You washin' your butt,
You washin' your butt,
You washin' your butt
Better recognize you're really dirty
ah, ah, ah, ah
You ever try to get that butt real clean
Better scrub your body til you're real soapy
Come on Izzy, get it clean
ah, ah, ah, ah
You gotta keep scrubbin' that body
You gotta be for sure that your butt is clean.
Recognize you're really dirty
Washing your armpit,
Washing where you sit
And you're hoping that your daddy,
will be reading you a book
You better get out
You're taking too long,
You're taking too long,
Wait a minute little Izzy
Lather, rinse, repeat from the beginning. You get the idea.
I found it was a great way to let off a little steam, and it was amazing how fast the kid moved when she realized I wasn't going to stop singing and dancing until she was out of the shower and in bed. Feel free to adapt the lyrics for your own home usage.
A Temper Tantrum All My Own
Yesterday Lil C had the temper tantrum of the century. This morning I had one of my own.
Disappointed, frustrated, and a bit angry after wasting my time grading assignments that were half completed, I went into class this morning intending to give the kids a good talking to. When I got in there though, I couldn't stop. I actually had to hold on to the podium because I started shaking. I lectured about laziness and carelessness for a good 15 minutes. It was kind of like when you start telling the guy who cuts your hair everything about yourself. You don't know why you're doing it, but you just know you can't stop. Today, I just couldn't stop.
Instead of doing what I personally always hated, I first told the kids who show up every day and turn all their assignments in correctly and on time that they could sort of zone out for a few minutes. However, I told them, "if you have any plans in the near future to slack off, then you should probably pay attention too."
Some of the highlights:
- "When my second grader reads over my shoulder as I'm grading one of your papers and says 'Oh mommy, that's spelled wrong.' . . . we have a problem."
- "I have a t-shirt I wear to the gym that says 'Lazy Sucks' and that would be my opinion on the papers I graded last night."
- "I know that, by now, you understand how to do this, so the only possible reason for these poorly constructed outlines is that either a) you're lazy; or b) you don't care. Neither one of those reasons is acceptable.
- You are a nice group of students. Nice doesn't get you an A though. Neither does just showing up without putting in any effort.
- For those of you who have outlines that look like gobbly-gook with the completely wrong format, hold your hands up and wiggle your pinky fingers around. Ahh, see that, they work. Find the "tab" key and use it.
When I was finished with my rant, I handed back their outlines, pointed out five students who had done a great job and told the ones who hadn't to pair up with someone who did it correctly and "beg them to help you get it right."
I also passed out post-it notes with their current grades and the number of absences on it. I told the ones who were in good shape to keep it up, and not to slack. I told the ones who had dug themselves a hole that it isn't too late to dig themselves out.
Then I had a student ask me if I give extra credit for perfect attendance. I told her and the rest of the class that they don't get stickers and rewards for doing what they're supposed to be doing already. I'm not rewarding them for gracing me with their presence.
I then spent some time talking with the student with the lowest grade. He asked me if he should just withdraw from the class. After a good 10 minute conference with him, he went from being grumpy with me to finally taking ownership of the mess he's put himself in, and knowing what he needs to do to dig himself back out. Here's hoping he actually follows through. I think he will.
Eternal optimism. If a teacher loses that, they're done for. I was planning on keeping mine. . . at least for now, but then I got the results of my allergy testing today.
My number one allergy?
Cats. I have two.
I have told people for years that my allergies got bad after I had my kids. Perhaps though, I have just lost my memory of the years before having kids since my cats are now about 13 years old. I'm also allergic to late summer pollens, a bunch of molds, two trees (elm & poplar), and dust mites. That was my other big one; but the doctor and I ruled that out as a problem since my bedroom (thanks to my obsessively putting every bedroom item into an allergy cover) is pretty much a mite free zone. So, we're left with my cats.
Finding them a new home isn't really an option for me. So, for now I'm on a ton of medications (eye drops, nose spray, and a new prescription antihistamine). In three weeks, I go back to determine whether or not I need to move into the next phase of probable torture: allergy shots.
Today's appointment took 3.5 hours. I went through just under 40 scratch test things on my back which was similar to the sensation of tweezing eyebrows, but with a slightly painful little tickle that was more annoying than anything else. Then it was on to 32 intra-dermals, 16 for each arm. The one that glared at him the most was the cats. Why couldn't I be allergic to dogs? I can't stand dogs anyway!
The good news is that I was quite comfortable while there. My Mom works there and all the nurses and the doctor know me. I'm glad it's over with for sure, and hope that the cocktail the doctor came up with will work for me, starting now.
Since I'm feeling a bit like a human sieve, I'm skipping karate tonight. Plus, they gave me an antihistamine and prednisone before leaving and all I really want to do is go scrub my arms and back and go to sleep.
All around, this has been a completely sucktastic week. And starting tomorrow, I need to prepare for a luau birthday party for Big I, complete with a home-made volcano cake. Right now though, it's eye drop, nose spray time.
Fun stuff.
A Parking Lot Tantrum
Yesterday, I completely forgot about Big I's hair cut appointment. It's the second time I've done that in the past six months. To say I'm a bit scattered lately would be a huge understatement. I just can't seem to get my act together.
I think part of my problem is a lack of sleep. Lil C has been making nightly appearances in my bedroom to go to the bathroom and then she complains that she can't go back to sleep. Usually Mr. BBM wakes up with her because I am unconscious to the world, but when I'm lacking allergy meds and I have to wake up every 10 minutes or so to scratch my tongue with my teeth, well, not much sleep happens.
Plus, Mr. BBM was completely out of it himself last night, so much so that he was talking in his sleep. He sounded as if someone had shoved a giant wad of cotton in his mouth as he yelled loudly and then even louder, "Hey, hey" and then "hey," brief pause, "HEY!" and then some garbled business that sounded like "So do you wanna bleckity bloger blugen." At first I thought it was funny, and then I looked at the clock and realized I"d been in bed over two hours and hadn't yet slept.
It makes dealing with stuff like this especially challenging. . .
This would be during the middle of Lil C's freak out in the Party City parking lot today.
I only wish I knew how to take video. She was getting some serious air during those temper tantrum induced jumps and fits. Also, she could totally be an Irish dancer. And the tantrum back arch, featured below? Perfect in its form and effectiveness.
At this point, you're probably asking yourself what type of mother pulls out the camera and starts snapping pictures of her daughter having a total fit in a public parking area, and I'll tell you what kind. . . a seriously exhausted, frustrated one. . . with a freaking itchy tongue.
At one point, during the five-minute ordeal, a man noticed me taking pictures of her, pulled his car up beside us, and nodded approvingly in my direction. I could tell he had two carseats in the back of his car. He totally gets me.
As I'm sitting here inserting these pictures, Lil C asked me why I had pictures of "sad 'Lil C'" and I told her I'm collecting them for a dating portfolio in the future. I think she understands, because she completely quit whining, at least for now.
Is it any wonder I forgot Big I's appointment and can't seem to keep my life together right now? Is it any wonder that I'm actually looking forward to getting stuck with a needle at least 30 plus times tomorrow for allergy testing, because I'll be without the little one during those hours of needle pricking hell?
Tantrums kill Mommy brain cells. Spread the word.
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