A Fascination With Fighting
My martial arts memoir
Making An Entrance
I bit down on my mouthguard as I threaded my way through the ropes into the ring. I was acutely aware of my allegro pulse pounding and the nervous whole-body tingling that precedes performance in an adrenaline-fuelled melange of fear and excitement. I did my best to tune out the onlooking assembly of the hundred or so fellow students as I oriented my attention to my breath, deliberately taking long, slow exhales to temper the tension of the moment. Mutually clad head-to-toe in protective gear, I sized up my opponent, a fellow first-timer to the ring hailing from Germany and awaited the referee’s signal to begin.
Fighting. Whether for survival, conquest, or spectacle, it features prominently among the oldest and most primal of human endeavors. History is a bloody affair. Though it’s come and gone over the years, I’ve held a lifelong interest in combat, fighting and the martial arts.
What’s the appeal and how does this relate to cultivating wisdom?
It behooves us to remember that many prominent philosophers had a martial background. In the West, Plato was a wrestler and Socrates was a soldier, while in the East, classics such as Sun Tzu’s Art Of War and the legendary swordsman Miyamoto Musashi’s Book Of Five Rings continue to be relevant. Combat and warfare are high-stakes affairs, thus any philosophy that emerges must meaningfully track reality.
As a cerebrally inclined young boy with an older brother, the idea that certain kinds of knowledge could overcome disadvantages in size and strength is compelling enough. And while I was usually on good terms with my brother growing up, it was good to be prepared. Honestly though, it was enthusiasm more than anything.
Inspiration & First Starts
I recall watching Bloodsport, a 1988 martial arts flick featuring the Belgian martial artist and actor Jean-Claude Van Damme portraying a character competing in an underground fighting tournament. I would have only been a five-year-old boy, but after exhausting my dad as an involuntary training partner, he signed me and my brother up for karate lessons at a local church space repurposed for training. Furthermore, I recall being gifted a heavy canvas punching bag to redirect my budding penchant for pugilism away from him and towards a decidedly indifferent and inanimate object well-suited for the task.
I took to the training well enough, and for whatever genetic reasons, I quickly learned that this body is quite supple. I was performing some of my own feats soon enough, turning heads and replicating the iconic scene of JCVD performing side oversplits on two chairs, reaching my legs behind my head, and lifting my extended leg and foot to reach the same wall I was leaning against to the incredulity of my training partners.
After three or four years, a schedule change provoked my father’s ire and our subsequent withdrawal. I otherwise would have kept training. It was certainly fun and I demonstrated some aptitude for it, achieving a purple belt (fourth of six ranks before black) in Butokukan karate. Alas, I didn’t have the heart to make a fuss.
The Not So Gentle Way
Fast-forward to my university days, and while leafing through a pamphlet for extracurriculars at the Student Recreation Centre, I was intrigued by several options, though I think it might have been a printed bill advertising that “most fights go to the ground.” Whether or not that claim is valid, I decided to enroll after checking out the class. Practicing judo at university remains one of my cherished highlights – grappling arts are decidedly an entirely different animal than striking ones.
For the uninitiated, grappling refers to sports like wrestling that feature holds, throws and locks, whereas striking is more about using parts of the body, typically the hands and feet, to punch and kick. With the mainstream popularity of mixed martial arts and the Ultimate Fighting Championship, I imagine the number of individuals completely uninitiated to the basics of fighting is decreasing by the year, though the differences among fighting for sport, actual combat and straight-up violence are not insignificant.
I ended up earning a green belt over three to four years of training, which is about half-way towards a black belt. In North American judo, the progression goes white, orange, green, blue, brown, black, though there are many degrees of black belt that follow. Ironically, even though judo translates as the “gentle way”, it was through my time on the mat that I truly appreciated size, strength, and the sheer stamina involved in rolling around the floor with training partners. Frankly, it’s exhausting and challenges anaerobic fitness.
One thing I’m grateful for is my coach’s insistence on learning groundwork, or newaza, despite how tournament scoring favors standing techniques, or tachiwaza. Groundwork involves attaining a dominant position over an opponent. From there, techniques to isolate an opponent’s limb or exposed neck are applied resulting in submission holds such as armbars or strangulations. These are possible through biomechanical advantages in leverage and using stronger and bigger muscles to overcome weaker and smaller ones and apply force to hyperextend a joint beyond its range of motion or to compress the carotid arteries supplying blood to the brain. The stand-up dimension of judo consists of establishing grip and breaking the balance, or kuzushi, of one’s opponent, before executing one of many techniques involving the shoulders, the hips, the feet or some combination thereof.
Getting comfortable with pushing, pulling, and being pushed and pulled horizontally along the floor is atypical from our vertically oriented modern lifestyles – unless you’re into physical training that takes the ground and whole body into account, the bulk of most of our days consists of sitting, standing or walking – not particularly enriching in the embodiment department, given the sheer variety of positional possibilities.
There’s a certain confidence that comes from being comfortable on the ground and in close proximity with other bodies. Like my piece on partner dancing, the martial arts, and grappling in particular, are like a different kind of dancing, though similar underlying principles apply.
Whereas in dancing, both individuals are attempting to cooperate, in martial arts sparring there’s a competitive aspect, with each assessing the other, looking for and creating opportunities to overcome the other and procure an advantage, often through deception. It must be said that even this competitive orientation is generally grounded in a cooperative spirit directed towards mutual development, serious competition notwithstanding.
In both cases, sensitivity and responsiveness are of paramount importance.
Hogwarts For Kung Fu
Another pivotal experience involved traveling to China in Fall 2016 to study martial arts there in earnest. I ended up studying tai chi, qigong, and Shaolin kung fu at an international martial arts school for two and a half months before leaving the school to travel.
Upon arriving at the school after a harried adventure navigating foreign languages, trains and unfamiliar territory, I arrived at an idyllic mountain village about an hour away from the nearest city surrounded by farmland. A nearby Taoist temple perched on the mountain served as a supplementary training area throughout the week’s practice schedule.
On intake, a student decides which style to study before being assigned a coach and training group, not unlike the Houses Of Hogwarts from the world of J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter, sans Sorting Hat. Offerings vary slightly as faculty change, though mainstays include Shaolin kung fu, wing chun, and sanda, Chinese kickboxing. Optional classes included qigong, tai chi, calligraphy, language classes, and massage.
With few exceptions on monthly and quarterly occasions, the training schedule is consistent from week to week, with morning tai chi starting at 6:00 AM, and afternoon training finishing at 4:00 PM five days a week. Mealtimes were the same every day, while weekends were an opportunity to train on one’s own, rest or visit the nearby city or beyond.
The opening scene to this piece attempts to capture my first sparring bout while training there.
It was an amazing adventure that I’ve detailed elsewhere in writing here, when the experience was fresher in memory. With the passage of time, it gladdens me that I heeded the call to adventure there and then. In addition to the martial arts, it was also an occasion to connect with the Chinese part of my cultural heritage.
Though I am not currently practicing, the skills, experiences, and embodied insights gleaned from the dojo, the mats, and the ring during those periods in my life are treasures that have immeasurably enriched the understanding of my body, mind and what is possible with dedicated time and skillful effort.
And I would wholeheartedly encourage anyone else to do the same if so inclined.
Didn't know this part of your background Tai. But not surprised to hear it after meeting you in person. You have the bearing of somebody who has trained like this. I'd love to hear more about how you view the relationship between spiritual life and practice, and being competent in navigating conflict.