There’s an old story in traditional martial arts lore about an emperor and his lazy, impatient son. I believe it is of Japanese origin and goes something like this…The emperor was planning a celebration for the dynasty lasting over 400 years (or something like that) and asked his son to write the number 400 on parchment. The son was not exactly a stellar student and waited until the last minute to get started. His father hired a calligraphy teacher who began with the basics, of course. The son made it to the number three and abruptly dismissed the teacher because of his exacting expectations, and because he thought he knew enough to finish the job. For the story’s sake, we’ll just say the characters were kanji. Kanji is the logographic writing system borrowed from China. This is significant because the number three is represented by three horizontal lines.
Keep in mind that one mistake in how the character is written changes the entire meaning. That's why there's probably a number of people out there with "Japanese" tattoos that they believe say "peace" and actually says "poop." Anyway, the number 400 doesn’t look anything like that in kanji. And on the day of the celebration the emperor’s son showed up with dozens of sheets of parchment, all with several horizontal lines drawn on them. 400 lines, to be exact. The price of impatience.
With so much technology these days, it’s hard not to have the same attitude as the emperor’s son. Let’s just hurry up and get it done and move on to the next thing. After all, we’re used to things coming quickly and easily. Indeed, life looks nothing like it did even 10 years ago. We are so dependent on computers that most of us wouldn’t know how to function without them. And the more attached we get to technology, the less we appreciate the time it takes to learn something valuable. Did you know that most elementary schools no longer teach cursive or script anymore? And you’d be hard pressed to find a high school that still offers classes like wood shop or home economics. You know, basic life skills. We just don’t have time and we don’t need it anymore. Or do we?
One of the most challenging aspects of beginning martial arts or functional training at our studio is learning new skills. Of course, that’s the main reason most people come here, but everyone is surprised to learn how difficult learning is. It takes a lot of boring reps, a lot of me making the same corrections over and over. It takes time, patience and tenacity. But if I’m not a stickler for good form or proper lifting technique, well, you end up with crappy technique and you will most likely hurt yourself or someone else. And when it comes to martial arts or strength training, a lot of us think we’ve got it down after three lines. But there’s so much more to learn and master. It takes a lifetime…believe me on that one. I’ve spent my life in martial arts, fitness training and physical therapy and I still learn things all the time. There’s no AI for that.
I start martial arts beginners with the same basic and boring skills; rolling, falling, footwork and kuzushi. Kuzushi means taking another’s balance or their center of gravity. We begin training in a standing position, more or less wrestling with a partner to pull them off balance. People with no experience always try to use strength and get winded quickly because strength has a time limit. Wrestlers will use the classic guard position, placing their head and torso forward, allowing someone with advanced skills to pull their head down and gain kuzushi. Nobody has ever started this drill without making mistakes. The same goes for the other techniques I’ve mentioned, along with learning how to punch, kick, apply a joint lock, etc. And like the emperor’s son, new people will often try to go too fast, too soon. They get frustrated with themselves and the situation. And then comes the realization that this is not so easy.
This is where we tend to people some times. Or they step up to the advanced class and get a dose of reality. Not only do the techniques become more difficult and complex, but we expect you to up your game in terms of fitness. I purposely infuse a great deal of calisthenics, strength training and painful conditioning into our martial arts classes for two reasons. First, budo is discipline; physical, mental and spiritual discipline. Self-discipline. So no, you can’t expect to eat some Crispy Cream donuts right before you come in for a morning session. I guarantee you’ll see what stomach acid does to fried bread. Second, if one of your goals is self-defense, then you’ve got to train for that and maintain it. I’ve seen my share of “masters” whose main weapon is appears to be a knife and fork. In my mind, you cannot be a true martial artist and lack the discipline to watch your diet or what you put in your body. So, if discipline is one of your main goals, then you have to practice it. I do not teach discipline. Nobody can.
Regardless of your reasons for being here, your biggest obstacle is your own ego. The first step in overcoming your ego is to abandon the notion that all you need to know is a few tricks…a few lines to achieve your vision. Every mistake, every bruise, every time you get hit or tapped out…every time you quit on pull ups or have to step off because you’re completely gassed is important. Vital. I’ll push to your limit if you allow me to. That’s one of the reasons you pay me. If all you want me to do is encourage you and pat you on the back for showing up, you’ve got the wrong guy. That’s what places like “Planet Average” are for. Places where there are no expectations for behavior or performance. All you have to do is show up and it’s practically done for you.
Failure is important, but trying again and again is essential. Mastery is not an aspect of failure; it is the product of tenacity, practicing a skill until you get right, knowing that you can always improve. What you gain from that experience affects other areas of your life, like your job, your family, the way you treat other people. That’s because practicing martial arts in a place that does not cater to your ego is a very unique experience. The world around us feeds the ego in every way. A dojo, a real dojo is one of the few places left in the world where your ego is tempered and challenged. No gaudy patches that advertise your style or your status; no tabs on your belt to let everybody know what level of black belt you are. No trophies and medals in the window. And nobody taking a fall for you or giving you a technique once you’ve learned how to apply it. You’re going to have to earn that.
So, let's get busy.
Dave Magliano
Tatsu Dojo
Jissenkan Budo
Dojo Cho
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