Ugly Reality

I recently had the chance to spend the evening sipping pints of beer with an old friend of mine. Perhaps we sipped too many, but it happens. Right? Anyway, the subject of my friend's youth came up, and suffice it to say, my friend grew up in a not-so-passive environment in a big city. He had to fight, a lot, and lives now with the demons associated with past fears and violence. Too many times he had to defend himself—admittedly because he often put himself in bad situations—and he became, well, experienced at it. The cliche is this: he seems like he wouldn't hurt a fly. But he would, if he had to. And he has. So never be deceived by appearances or preconceived notions.

My friend was bullied and beaten up many times when he was young. It is tragic, really. He says the violence he encountered was “life changing” and “horrible,” and that eventually he hit that point. The point where he knew he had to become “tough.”

It is truly a burden he has to live with now. Even though he hurt people who wanted to hurt him, he speaks of it as if he should do some sort of penance for his actions. Yet, his stories hold value to anyone who wants to avoid violence or survive it if the time comes. He knows what it is really like. And it sucks.

Once, for example, I naively asked him what his reaction would be if someone grabbed him and he was about to be punched. It's a drill martial artists do repeatedly.

“If someone grabs you,” he said bluntly, “they don't know what they're doing.”

That's not to say you'll never be grabbed. A lot of people might do so. He was just suggesting that there are many people who might sucker you without so much as a tell. “You have to read people and react accordingly,” he added.

Awareness, my sensei used to say, is ninety percent of self-defense.

But all said, and despite lessons learned, I feel terrible for him. He lives with demons. He knows how ugly true violence is—but almost like a soldier—he became adept at it. It will never, ever leave him.

And that is the biggest lesson of all.

Overconfidence

Confidence is good. But overconfidence can lead to a disconnect when it comes to real life violence. It is too easy to fall into the trap of thinking aptitude in the dojo means one is automatically safe in the real world.

I've seen this in adults, from time to time, but where I've really noticed it lately is with teenagers who have put in a couple of years, and achieved some level of success when it comes to class. You see the confidence increase, which is good, but sometimes there develops a slight arrogance, and a belief that a high belt colour means you can hold your own with anyone, in any type, of situation. But it's just not true. It's not the way life works.

Unfortunately, sometimes, depending on the student (and to a large degree the teacher), success in the dojo can be comparable to being book smart at school. Good grades don't necessarily mean intelligence outside of the classroom.

Once, for example, I was watching a class where the teenagers were having semi-formal grappling/wrestling matches. A new kid was there, and he, because of his size, was paired up with an experienced brown belt in the class. Everyone was thinking, he's going to get destroyed by the senior student, and the group gathered around in a circle to watch. However, within seconds of the beginning of the match, the new kid pinned the brown belt on the mat and the match was over. And then he did it again.

Luckily, it was just a friendly match in the dojo.

In fairness, most of us who have put in any amount of time training have likely felt increased confidence because of our increased abilities. I get it. But what some students don't yet realize, and it may take many more years of training and real life experience to understand, is that humility needs to be one of the key attributes discovered along the road of training. Use your confidence, but don't waver from caution; don't think yourself invincible, because no one is. After all, if we are to never underestimate an opponent, it means to never overestimate yourself.

Real life violence cannot be duplicated in a dojo for the sake of training. Real violence is ugly and unpredictable. It should be avoided, if possible.

I guess I just worry some of these students, with their new-found confidence, will put themselves in bad situations because of, well, being a bit naive. Because confidence can only take one so far, and some of the book smarts have to be interpreted and/or translated into realistic thinking.

the zen is mightier than the sword....

maybe i'm not a true warrior... i don't possess "killer" instincts; real violence makes me ill; and i tend to train more in my brain than in the dojo as of late... in fact, some of my best lessons have come from friends while drinking beer and smoking cigars, or just laying in bed staring up at the ceiling...  (is this traditional?)
i guess i have never been orthodox at anything in my life--sports, academics, career, etc....
yet i feel driven; i feel purpose behind my actions... and i know warriors come in all forms and fight all kinds of battles...
but can "killer" be cultivated? and if so, is that something i want to attain?
i think i have to push past this notion of violence... past this notion of petty contradictions...

Judo joint locks...

Not being a sport judo historian per se, I found this quote intriguing:

"Attacks against all joints were permitted in early judo contests...(but) have gradually been restricted in tournaments to elbows only. In 1899, locks of the fingers, toes, wrists, and ankles were banned (knee entanglement or twisting knee locks were banned in 1916). Joint lock attacks were limited in contests to the elbow in 1925..."

-- Judo Unleashed, Neil Ohlenkamp

Elbow locks, the book's author says, allows more opportunity to "tap before injury can occur." It also says that further locks are explored in judo kata. I can't verify this, as I am not a full-fledged judoka, but I am sure some of my readers can definitely speak to this.

I just like the notion of how people today debate the merits of point sparring, grappling, MMA etc., when judo seems to have been analyzing safety vs. realism for so long now. Although I understand certain other techniques have been banned in judo over the years, I'd be very interested in discovering what more recent adjustments have been made in sport judo, and the pros and cons of such decisions.

reality....

This story has been in my head for awhile.
A friend, and competent practitioner of the martial arts, was walking down a city street at night with a friend when he was attacked. Two men jumped them and put the one friend into the hospital with pretty bad injuries. My friend was beaten, too, but not nearly as severely.
Since that night, about three years ago, my friend has completely stopped training as he felt his skills didn't 'kick in' when needed. He has become disillusioned and cynical when it comes to the art form he used to love.
Now, I don't want to write a post about how he should resume training and how it could have happened to anybody etc. Nor do I want to comment on his teacher or his style--as I don't think that was the issue anyway.
Instead, I just think about why he feels the way he does and how I would feel
if that happened to me. Are we allowed to 'lose'? Are we allowed to have 'doubts' and weaknesses'?
It reminds me of how real violence can be, and how instincts differ from person to person.
I know there is a gap in my friend's life to this day.

Awe...

When people loose their sense of awe, said Lao Tsu, disaster looms.

This can be seen being played out daily in the world: A lack of recognition of the sanctity of Self and Life in general. It is, after all, awe that begets respect. And of this there is a massive deficit on our planet these days.

As a martial artist, we must respect skill in ourselves and others, and likewise not take violence lightly.

Journeyman talks about specific goals of training that fit well with this point.

"There is a tendency for most martial artists to feel a need to best their opponent, to beat them, to win," he says. (See entire post here). This point can include the best way to survive a violent encounter, as well as the best way to respect one's own self and possibly the assailant.

Peace, itself, should not be taken lightly. As suggested, it is a result of respect and a sense of awe. It is a divided mind that creates chaotic situations, and being human, as the Taoist would say, we often have to wait for the mud in the water to settle to the bottom in order to achieve clarity.

Cultivation

Language can determine outcome.

It can shape our vision and therefore our approach.

Advertisers know this and use specific trigger words to manipulate human behaviour; politicians know this, and as a result, carefully craft their sentences in order to shape and fulfil their desired results.

But it works for us, too.

For example, when it comes to martial arts, exchange the word practicing for cultivating. Immediately a more organic, slow, and more patient vision comes to mind. I see a garden when I hear the latter word. Something sensitive and adaptable to the elements surrounding it.

Qi, teachers will suggest, is cultivated rather than learned. You start from nothing. It grows. The process is slow, but as a result, the knowledge of qi should permanently meld into the mind and body.

Another term is self defense. It is much different than combat training or grappling, etc. It suggests an entirely different situation than, say, fighting. It conjures up scenes of street violence and how to escape them as quickly and effectively as possible. Fighting brings to mind more calculated strategies, feints, combinations, and often a referee.

This means we approach self defense differently than fighting. For me, this is a huge difference, and involves very different training.

The brain works like this: Put the word "fighting" into a search engine. Look at the pictures that appear. Now do the same with "self defense", and you will see a much different take on violent situations.

This is what your mind does.

And it can change everything.

What is Truth?

The Truth, say the sages of Taoism, is often paradoxical.

I find this to be accurate, as my entire journey along the path of the martial arts has been this way.

As a child, I was sheltered, living in a remote, forested area on the edge of the rocky Canadian Shield. My worries were much more to do with bears than street thugs, and I really hadn't witnessed true violence until my family moved to an urban neighbourhood after I was close to becoming a teenager.

Then I was exposed to violence--in the world around me and on TV--and I found it to be disgusting.

Don't get me wrong, I knew how to throw a hard check in hockey, and I proved to be a decent wrestler in gym class, but the intent behind true violence sickened me.

And it still does.

Again, it is the intent--as much or more than the action--that even in my youth, struck me as primitive.

"Silly monkeys, give them thumbs, they make a club and beat their brother down...." (lyrics from the band Tool, whose singer is a student of Gracie Jui-Jitsu).

Anyway, to skip a lot of unnecessary details, and rescue this post from becoming an autobiography, I'll return to the concept of paradox, which is this:

That many of us studying violence, in depth, are doing so to become less violent humans.

It is paradoxical. And if you were to break it down and intellectualize it you might, perhaps, come up with good theories as to why it is true. Maybe by better understanding specific behaviour we can change it; maybe by increasing confidence and discipline we can better curb our ego's need to prove itself.

But I don't know, for sure.

We all just know the paradox is true.

Discarding the Rules

Paying attention to rules--then discarding them--could be the key to basic self-defense.

For example, look closely at the rules of boxing, wrestling, tournament sparring, MMA, judo, and grappling. Some of these have a lot of rules, some have less. But the crucial aspect is that they all have guidelines in order to protect those involved in the match.

When I watch MMA, for example, I like to imagine how I would get free of someone's ground attack if I were truly pinned. So I look at the rules. No eye-gouging, no groin attacks, no finger breaks or wind pipe strikes. Why? Because they work--too well.

I am not saying a good triangle choke wouldn't be effective if an attacker held you on the ground, however, it might be the more difficult technique to attempt and it would take more practice, knowledge, and appropriate conditions to accomplish.

You want to get out of the situation--fast--and not leave yourself to vulnerable to an attack from any of the current assailant's friends.

Same thing goes for judo. I like judo, a lot. But there is a reason why a competition throw isn't executed after a strike to the solar plexus--it causes damage, and judo is a sport, after all.

Again, each sport has it's real world value--for sure--but often the simple and dirty stuff is just easier to teach and quicker to execute.

But then, an attacker obeys no rules either.

the Saloon Blues

I helped de-escalate a potential fight at a small pub recently.
I didn’t know the two people, nor was I in an irrational state from alcohol consumption. It was just about enjoying a nice evening on the patio when some inebriated twenty-year-old took offense to some another guy. It ended up being nothing, as myself and an acquaintance quickly intervened and talked the pair down. We were merely passing along the first concept of self-defense: avoid physical entanglement.

Because of this no one was injured and I don't recall seeing either one of them again.
Anyway, the evening returned to a pleasant tone and everyone went home none-the-worse except for a few hangovers that seemed to be inevitable by some of the patrons--Oh well.
I guess I write about this with no real reason except to reflect upon how much nicer the evening was without a violent eruption casting a shadow on everyone’s mood. As for my training, it was nice to see that I reacted quickly and without thought--and in the proper manner--to keep the peace.

No heroism, maybe just a selfish desire for a quiet pint of beer.