Lessons from the Mat

An Essay on Impact of the Martial Arts on my Life
(this may be familiar to some folks as it was originally written for my first Journey to Black Belt Poster in Fall, 2007)

I have always been drawn to the martial arts, from the time I was very young and even before I really understood what they were all about. I don’t remember any specific instance of seeing someone do something amazing that made me want to pursue the study of martial arts, but I was the type of kid who always had his nose in a book, and so had read about arms, armour and fighting techniques before I ever conceived of doing it myself.

When I was a child, probably about 8 years old, my mother signed me up for Judo classes. It lasted a week, and I forget now if it was that I didn’t want to go or my mom either couldn’t afford the time or money to take me. I signed up for judo again when I was twelve, and that lasted a couple of months. It was enough time to learn how to fall, roll and do some basic throws, and also long enough to realize no matter what they tell you in judo classes, size does make a difference: it’s very frustrating to try and learn judo techniques when you are the smallest person in class.

But even at that early age, one of the things that struck me about the martial arts was the calmness that you can achieve with them. The few moments at the beginning of class when we would sit and meditate, focusing on our breathing and centering ourselves in preparation for what we were about to do were the high point of the experience. I was a skinny kid with breathing problems, so handling the physical side of class was usually beyond me, but those moments of peace were what would pull me back to the martial arts years later, when I knew that I wanted to train my body to do things I had seen done in the movies, or read about in books.

From age twelve to thirty-eight I’ve traveled a lot, and studied – buffet style – several different styles of martial arts – Tai Chi, Aikido, Tae Kwan Do, and a Jeet Kune Do inspired mix of Tae Kwan Do, Wing Chun, Kali, Boxing and Savate. But before I started training physically, I knew what I hoped to find spiritually: a sense of honour, dedication, and commitment. What I did not know when I started was that I would find a camaraderie amongst martial art students that was fairly unique – people who were training to better themselves, but who were also interested in helping others. It’s this aspect of the martial arts that helps to inspire me when I find roadblocks in my way.

What I re-discovered when I returned to the martial arts after a long break, was that time training on the mat is time away from the world. I have always felt that training halls, dojos, dojangs are all magical places. There is an invisible veil in place across the mats in them. When you step through the veil you leave your outside life behind. Then, for however long you are there, you can focus on something outside your life, and live in one particular moment in time. Some people I know find a similar experience in church, or camping, or running, but I have not found that experience anywhere else, and it is what keeps me coming back to training again and again.

The martial arts have created in me a sense of purpose, lifted me up when I have been depressed, and linked me to people who mean the world to me. It was a shared interest in the martial arts that helped bring my wife and I together. It was the certain knowledge of the positive aspects of character development and ethical behavior that would be taught in great dojos that encouraged my wife and I to seek out a school for our son, and it was the realization that I missed having the martial arts in my life that brought me back to training after a 12 year hiatus.

The martial arts have helped make me who I am today. However, I know that I could not have gotten here without the help and support of the teachers and students who were a part of my experience. Whether it was all the hours I spent training at McGill, or the time on the mat at DeSantos, I could not have achieved anything without my teachers, peers, family and friends. They are the real reward of martial arts training – focus, commitment, physical fitness and some awareness of self-defense are just fringe benefits.

How you practice is how you perform

This credo was first shared with me early in my training in taekwando at DeSantos Martial Arts, by one of the instructors whom I admire the most -- mostly because he embodies this sentiment. When you first start applying it to your approach to martial arts you realize how vital it is: you cannot expect to perform at a high level, if you don't practice at that level regularly, and systematically.

I found myself coaching some great kids yesterday at a tournament. They were amazing in how they stepped up to perform in what for many of them was an unfamiliar setting. But my mind kept coming back to this lesson throughout the day. They were all performing really, really well -- but most were unprepared for what they were facing. The kind of tournament they were competing in was of a different quality then they were used to, and it showed in their performance. Which made me come back to Sir Tran's lesson -- if they want to perform differently in this kind of environment, they will have to refine their approach to their training.

And because the best lessons of the martial arts apply outside the confines of the mat, I have come to see how my everyday behaviour ends up determining how I perform. I can't expect to get different results if I keep doing the same things all the time.

It seems a truism -- what you've done in the past is what you'll do in the future (unless you choose to change your behaviour). But first you have to recognize that change is necessary.

Again, more on this later...

6,400,099,180

A really big number. Dogen Zenji, a thirteenth century zen master and founder of the Soto school of Zen Buddhism calculated this as the number of moments in a day.

An important idea connected to this calculation is that life is constantly changing, and these changes happen from moment to moment. I'm still unpacking the meaning of this, but the first thing that comes to mind is that this means there are 6,400,099,180 opportunities for change in a day. How am I going to make use of these opportunities today?

More on this later...

Bodies at rest tend to stay at rest...

Newton's first law of motion has been kicking in big time for me lately, in many ways. Physics as a metaphor for life can be a fun thing, but what I seem to be looking for is the equivalent of an 'outside force' to act on my resting body.

Last year I had all the motivation in the world to push myself to train, and train others. The cold winter has instead pushed me into near hibernation, and the result is I am flabby and feeling blue.

But last Sunday, while coaching students on forms, I realized that everyone feels this way sometimes -- I just don't notice, because many times I'm the 'outside force', changing the body from rest to motion. As my birthday approaches, I'm hoping that I find what I am missing, and get back on track.