Sixteen Years

Time is relative. Obviously. Yet it may not be so obvious. I have been thinking about what time represents and more specifically what sixteen years represent.

Sixteen years is the required age for acquiring a driver’s licence. I know it was a lifetime for me to get to that age. I have vivid memories of daring deeds and experiences all accumulated before I was eligible to drive.

When my daughters were born, it was a lifetime before I had to worry about them dating or driving. Again, many vivid memories of their life milestones over their first sixteen years.

The squirrel chattering at me while I write this was not around sixteen years ago, nor will he be around sixteen years from now.

Sixteen years ago I mortgaged my house to get a permanent home for Silent River Kung Fu. I look at photos from those first few weeks while we worked to turn two empty bays into a unified training space, and cannot help but smile at our naivety. There’s Sifu Hayes and I grinning from ear to ear while we grouted the tile that we had carefully laid throughout the building only to have to jackhammer it all out a couple of days later. There’s the memory of crushing the main water line during those first renovations but somehow managing not to puncture it. We had no expertise but we all shared a vision.

While the memories of our initial construction exploits remain vivid, they seem to come from two lifetimes ago. So much has happened in the past sixteen years. The kwoon has expanded, along with the mortgage, and the spirit and love of a whole new generation of martial artists is embedded within its walls.

Sixteen years. Seems like a lifetime when you are a kid. Seems like a lifetime if you are paying off a mortgage. A lot can happen in a sixteen year time period, but most of us only have five of those in our lifetime.

“The only reason for time is so that everything doesn’t happen at once.” - Albert Einstein (1879 - 1955)

Anchor Experiences

Life is hectic. The faster the pace of my surroundings, the more hectic my state of mind. It is a constant battle to adapt my environment to my rhythm and resist the pull to join the pace of the rat race. The vividness of the memory of many amazing moments have been lost because I have not been in the proper state of mind to mindfully experience the moment. Without proper reverence for the present, a memory’s grip is fragile, making it difficult to keep. Some days I am more successful than others but that is why it is called a practice. There is value in perpetual effort despite knowing that complete achievement is impossible.

My I Ho Chuan team had a great Canada Day this year. We spent most of the day with each other, performing, laughing, and sharing the experience. A spontaneous demo and experiencing the joy of new Canadians receiving their citizenships made the day one I will never forget. I consider that day seized.

“The secret of a good memory is attention, and attention to a subject depends upon our interest in it. We rarely forget that which has made a deep impression on our minds.”- Tyron Edwards (1809 - 1894)

Great Class

Had a phenomenal black belt class on Friday. The past few months have been the most productive classes I have taught for that rank. The consistent attendance by a core group of black belts has allowed the classes to progress logically for the first time for as long as I can remember. Even the vast range of experience levels has not hampered the flow of the class. We are accomplishing more than I thought possible and I am excited to see how the class progresses moving forward.

I am sure the new class time is helping the situation. Having my most advanced students for the first class of the day is allowing me to approach every class fresh, without the interfering rhythms generated by preceding classes. For the first time I am able to resolve a way to impart advanced theoretical and abstract knowledge in a way that benefits the new and experienced alike.

My goal was to document the advanced concepts that were covered on Friday’s class but when I tried to put the lesson into writing, it did not translate well enough to retain its clarity. Yet another reason why there is no substitute for first hand experience when it comes to mastering the art of kung fu.

“A moment’s insight is sometimes worth a life’s experience.” - Oliver Wendall Holmes (1809 - 1894)

Right Speech

It has been five years since I spent a week in Colorado practicing the teachings of Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh. It seems impossible that five years have passed as the experience is still vividly etched in my consciousness. It was the first time that I have immersed myself so completely into the practice and I can’t argue with the effectiveness of the experience.

Zen, like any discipline, is a practice. The benefits of the practice are directly proportional to the effort put into the practice. I have been a practitioner for most of my adult life but that week in 2009 was the first time I have been completely immersed for so long. My daughter noticed a difference in me when I returned from my retreat — I moved slower and I talked slower. I remember how calm my mind was and how simple life was. It was no more than a couple of days of being reintegrated into the rat race before my state of mind began to slip back into a different, hectic rhythm. I could feel the unwanted change happening but resistance seemed futile. My mind was adopting the rhythm of my environment.

My practice continues to evolve everyday. As I simplify my life, I get closer to the ideal I experienced in 2009. I have been focusing on reducing my possessions and creating  space in my environment. I have been working hard to repair poor relationships and improve the good ones. Decluttering my mind in these ways allow me to slow down and stay in the moment.

This week I have narrowed my focus on practicing right speech. Words are the most powerful tools I have to create happiness in my life. A word takes but a moment to utter but its effect can resonate for a lifetime. I know my words reflect my mood but I also know that my mood is affected by my words. Staying mindful of what I say, and how I say it, creates  peace in my life.

“Aware of the suffering caused by unmindful speech and the inability to listen to others, I am committed to cultivation loving speech and compassionate listening in order to relieve suffering and to promote reconciliation and peace in myself and month other people, ethnic and religous groups, and nations.” - Thich Nhat Hanh (b. 1926)

Intensity

An abstract concept like intensity in kung fu is one of those things that is difficult to define but is something I easily recognize when I see it. This can be frustrating for a student who is constantly being told to show more intensity in their techniques.

In a nutshell, intensity in the execution of a technique, is defined by the six harmonies. The three external harmonies are easily understood but the three internal harmonies, less so. Intensity falls in the realm of the internal harmonies — specifically intent.

What is intent as applied to kung fu? Intent is the sense of purpose behind an action. It is the spirit, the heart, the soul of a technique. Motion without purpose is just motion. Motion with intent is kung fu. A technique with intensity has intent behind it. With a sense of purpose behind my technique I bring mindfulness into play. That mindfulness triggers my eye for detail and attention to my skeletal authority, my centre of balance, and my force vectors.

It would be incorrect to assume that intensity is only applied in the execution of a technique. Intensity as defined above should be applied in every action and effort, no matter how mundane. Intensity is an attitude that must be religiously practiced before it can be consistently applied.

“The most distinguishing feature of winners is their intensity of purpose.” - Alymer Letterman

Maya Angelou

I wish I had taken the time to learn more about her when she was alive. Someone like Maya Angelou is impossible to replace.

"If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude." - Maya Angelou (1928 - 2014)

Why?

It’s been over thirty years. Why am I still training? What value am I getting from pushing myself further and further? Am I just a sadist? Is there not something else I could be doing with all this time I am putting into my kung fu?

I have been lucky. Teaching kung fu for so long has given me access to many students and so I have been exposed to every motivational trap and self-defeating talk anyone can come up with. Helping others stay the path has helped me as much as it has helped them.

I continue to train because of the focus the training gives me. Learning how to set a plan for achieving a goal and disciplining yourself to follow through is not just a skill, it is also a practice. Discipline is not something that sticks with you. Like all skills, it must be exercised regularly or it will be lost. Kung fu has given me a good life by giving me the physical and mental discipline to achieve more in all facets of my life. I am not someone who takes what he has for granted. I know how different my life would be without kung fu. Yes, my achievements are my own but I would not have pulled off many of them without the skill set kung fu has given me.

I have the battle scars that come with pushing my body to its limits. Ibuprofen has become my supplement of choice and my piano has never forgiven me for all those bricks I broke with ego rather than technique. Has it been worth it? Physically, I am in better condition than I was in high school. Mentally, I am focused, confident, and calm. Kung fu has served me for my entire adult life because I apply it and stay engaged every day. Oh yes, it has been absolutely worth it.

“Effort only fully releases its reward after a person refuses to quit.” - Napoleon Hill (1883 - 1970)