LEGENDS OF KUNG-FU #32 Tenderness "Only people who are strong can be truly gentle: what normally passes for gentleness is mere weakness, which quickly turns sour." - Duc de la Rouchefoucauld
This particular installment of "Legends" is aimed towards those of you who are instructors and those of you who are in the running to become instructors, regardless of your style or background. I've been lucky enough to train under or just simply hang out with some of the real legends in martial arts across a variety of styles and nationalities, and two common threads that run through all of those individuals are technical excellence and incredible empathy. You've heard a lot of stories about technical excellence, so I'm going to tell you a little bit about the other side of the coin today. The Chinese say that the ultimate achievement is to be able to balance yin and yang together in harmony. They call that state "tai chi," which refers to the harmonious interaction of polar opposites. Now while we think of full-contact, military style, combat practical martial arts training as appealing to one particular type of person, we rarely think of that same person as the same person who'd put everything aside to sit by the bedside of an ailing wife and lovingly wait on her hand and foot. Yet that's the reality of the people I consider as the real legends of kung-fu and other martial arts. Here are just a few passing examples of that duality in some of the people I've known through the years. My tui-na teacher, Dr. Jae Man Kim, is one example of this kind of fusion of yin and yang. Trained in the Korean style of shippalgi kung-fu and licensed to teach by the Korean National Shippalgi Martial Arts Association at the young age of 24, Kim taught martial arts for a short while after emigrating to the United States. Today, he runs a medical clinic full-time, specializing in Chinese medicine with a focus on tui-na. Despite spending the bulk of his day treating patients, Kim's strikes are exceedingly fast and incredibly accurate. When demonstrating kung-fu, his mindset is one of dominating his adversaries, and the power behind his motions and the look in his eyes is like staring down the barrel of a shotgun. All business, no mercy. It's the same when he's instructing me in medicine. Yet when Kim heard of the painful familial difficulties someone close to him was experiencing during a luncheon, he excused himself to go outside to wipe away his tears and set about to find a way to ease that pain he saw. My Combat Shuai-Chiao master, David C.K. Lin, is one of those people you just don't want to be on the wrong side of. He's taught hand-to-hand combat at anti-terrorism schools on both sides of the Pacific, from Taiwan to Atlanta, and he's never been defeated. Arguably, Lin's Shuai-Chiao skill is the most combat tested of all of Chang Tung-Sheng's students, distinguishing him as the roughest in an already rough art. Kick, punch, throw, or lock - Lin can do it all, and do it well. But he can also set an exceptional example as a human being, too. When I first started training with him, he would always teach me with great patience, despite my ineptitude and bad habits. Guiding me along, carefully, observantly, like a parent watching the steps of a child, Lin and his elder son, James, brought me up to black belt level when I had nothing to offer them but the diligence of my own efforts and a humble attitude. When I've demonstrated for Black Belt photo shoots with my master, he's always been concerned about my safety because of the speed of the throws and the viciousness of the landings and not preoccupied with simply showing off how powerful his throws are. I'll finish with a story I heard while I had the honor of training directly under Shotokan Karate legend Tsutomu Ohshima at the Caltech Dojo. Ohshima sensei is one of the most intense individuals you can ever meet on a hardwood practice floor. To experience training under him is to know that the old samurai mentality is still alive in modern America. One of Gichin Funakoshi's most prized pupils, Ohshima can take the most seemingly rudimentary technique, and beat the hell out of you with it, regardless of your prior level of experience. I can recall one occasion when he allowed me to receive his technique in front of the class. Still wearing my shiny new white belt, I stood at least 10 feet away from Ohshima as he stood in a deep stance and said that he'd hit me with an oi-zuki punch before I could move out of the way. Mentally scoffing and secure in my prior martial arts training, I stood in a normal posture, ready to dart or turn out of the way as soon as I detected any motion from the shorter Japanese man that stood in front of me. With a strong kiai and a blink, he sent me flying backwards with exactly the type of rudimentary attack he said he would. And I sat there on my backside wondering how the hell he did that. And as amazing as his technique is, he's the same way as a human being. My seniors told me that when his wife fell ill, Ohshima ceased teaching and practicing and stayed by her side, day and night, eventually doing everything for her as she became unable to do simple everyday actions. It was not until some time after his wife had succumbed to her illness that Ohshima returned to the dojo and the art that he loved. I tell you about these things because it's important for us as
instructors to make ourselves strong not only on a technical level,
but also as human beings. And that strength we develop as human
beings has to manifest itself as the ability to show tenderness,
compassion, care, and love, without being indiscriminate with
those gifts and giving opportunists the chance to take advantage
of such giving. In that sense, this column is like a continuation
of last month's - another way of looking at the needle wrapped
in cotton. It's the tenderness we show and share with those around
us that makes us legends. |