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Ladies and gentlemen, here is the latest sign that the Apocylypse is officially upon us, courtesy of the Portsmouth (New Hampshire ) Herald: http://www.therockinghamnews.com/news/06182006/news/108169.htm

I couldn’t believe what I read the first time, so I read it twice, poured a double shot of Cutty Sark Blended Scotch Whiskey, and read it again.  According to the article, this nine-year old kid, along with a couple of his little friends, was promoted to first degree black belt in Tae Kwan Do.  No, it wasn’t a junior rank, this was an ACTUAL ADULT SHODAN!!!  AT NINE-YEARS OF AGE!!!  The dojo owner indicated that there is no juniors program at the school therefore all students, children and adults alike, train together.  Let’s see…so you’re an adult in the class and now a nine-year old steps onto the training floor wearing an adult black belt.  Are you expected to address him/her as “Sensei”?  Does he/she actually teach the class?  Can they ”discipline” the adult students like many sensei have been known to do?  I can see it now….”OK, students, line up for class!  Sensei Timmy will begin the warm-ups as soon as he wakes up from his nap!” 

Seriously, this idea is so wrong on so many levels.  It’s just one more reason why the martial arts are getting such a bad reputation in Western society.  We’ve got some schools promising prospective students that they can receive a black belt after just two years of training.  Some schools have more colored belts than feathers on a peacock, with a significant charge to test for each belt level.  And now, nine-year old black belts.  Any bets that the parents exerted some influence to get the kids promoted to this level?  Commercialism is running rampant, and customers (notice I didn’t use the term students) and their parents are dictating more and more of the curriculum and belt requirements to the dojo instructors.  Fortunately, most traditional dojos require their students to be a least of a minimum age (somewhere between 13- and 16-years old) to even be considered a legitimate candidate for shodan, and with good reason.  We do not begin to use formal reasoning skills until we enter our teen years, because we are not developmentally ready to do so.  This is not just my opinion, this is fact, developed by people much smarter than me (like Jean Piaget, for example).  Children below the age of twelve have not acquired the cognitive and perceptive abilities to understand some concrete concepts, let alone those that are more abstract.  They lack the wisdom and maturity to appreciate the responsibilities that accompany the black belt rank.  They also lack the physical strength and coordination required to adequately defend themselves against an adult attacker.  Sure, the kids might be able to memorize a collection of pretty-looking forms, but unless they understand what those movements actually mean, they’re just performing a dance.  Simply put, there is NO WAY a nine- or ten-year old child has the maturity, wisdom or physical ablities to legitimately earn an adult shodan. 

The article stated that the nine-year old’s test was grueling, and exactly like the one taken by adult shodan candidates.  It specifically emphasized the physical requirements of the test: Lots of running, calesthenics and even a written test, all conducted over a three-day period.  Most schools that administer a multi-day test usually do so in order to subject the candidates to physically challenging activities.  These tests simply measure how much pain you can take, or what kind of shape you’re in, not how much karate you know.  They allow the candidates several hours to complete a training run, usually three- to five miles, so even the least conditioned student can complete the test.  It’s either that, or repetitively executing various kicks and punches up and down the floor.  Personally, I have a problem with styles which emphasize physical conditioning during class time; it implies that the curriculum is not that extensive, so class time must be filled with something, so why not exercises?  Nothing like push-ups and sit-ups to give the appearance that you’re doing something “martial”.  In ths kid’s case, he’s probably in good shape, but how many normal nine-year olds aren’t?  And what about self-defense and sparring?  If these kids train with the adults, do they also engage in FULL-OUT jiyu kumite and LIFE-LIKE self-defense technques against adults?  Somehow, I doubt it.  And, do the instructors really believe that an adult student would attack a nine-year old with the same enthusiasm and force that they would use to attack a full-grown colleague?  How do you engage in shugyo training with a nine-year old?  Ever see the “Seinfeld” episode in which Kramer trains in a kid’s karate class?  That about says it all.

If you want to hand out junior black belts to kids under the age of 13, that’s fine.  Grade them on their degree of improvement, or whatever, I have no problem with that.  Then when they become teenagers assimilate them into the adult classes, start training them like they’re adults and then award them an adult black belt, if they’ve indeed earned it.  But no real martial artist could respect a school that would award a nine-year old an adult shodan.  That kid can dress up like a black belt and pretend it’s Halloween every day, because that is what it amounts to, playing dress-up.  If that offends anyone from the dojo in question it’s because they must somehow justify what they are doing.  They can call their nine-year old a Shodan, but no one else will.

Next time: Cyber-Karate

 Many thanks to Sensei Audrey Rosenblum, for her assistance in helping me to (finally) compose this entry.  Sensei Audrey, an avid reader of all things Japanese, informs me that harmony is defined differently, depending upon one’s culture.  Westerners, it seems, tend to describe harmony as a sense of inner peacefulness, or calm self-confidence.  On the other hand, the Japanese  might define harmony as an ability to co-exist with others, to put aside one’s ego for the greater good.   (This perspective probably developed as a by-product of the crowded conditions that exist in Tokyo and other urban areas in Japan.  There, harmony is a necessity!)  Both definitions are correct, and both apply to our martial arts training.  Take the Western definition:  If we are calm and relaxed, with a peaceful mind, we can face our problems, as well as our opponents, much more effectively.  When we are calm and aware, we can see a variety of options and responses.   A martial artist who can maintain that calmness, even in the midst of a violent attack, is more likely to survive the attack.  We must be able to set our emotions aside to develop that state of tranquil quiescence, or harmony. However, the ability to achieve that state takes a great deal of training, and that training is accomplished primarily with the assistance of our fellow students.  This brings us to the Japanese definition of harmony.  As students training together, we all come to the dojo with a variety of  divergent values, beliefs and goals.  Sometimes these compliment one another, and sometimes they conflict.  There is so much potential for interpersonal chaos and disorder and yet, we set these values and beliefs aside, in order to develop ourselves to our fullest potential and to help our colleagues to do likewise.  Again, we each set aside a part of ourselves so that we can achieve harmony.  In this case, to function as a unit, along a common path and toward a common goal, a form of harmony in which the different individuals come together for the greater good.  So, both definitions of harmony are necessary for optimal training and personal development.  In order to maintain a calm, composed response in the face of an attack, we need to train cooperatively with others.  Put another way, to develop true harmony, we must train harmoniously.  Now, go play nicely with others so that you don’t get killed in combat.  Next time: Should kids be promoted to black belt?

In my opinion, humility is perhaps THE most important characteristic one can have as a martial artist, and as a human being.  Regardless of the extent of our martial abilities, a humble nature demonstrates to our instructors and to our fellow students that we recognize our limitations, both as a practioner and as a person.  It shows others that we know we are not infallible, that we don’t have all of the answers, that we can always learn more about the martial arts specifically and about life in general.  To me, humility is synonymous with respect, the respect we have for ourselves, for those who have come before us, and for those with whom we train.  There are some obvious ways that we show respect for our art and for those who study it with us.  For example, bowing to begin and end a class demonstrates an appreciation for what we are about to study, and the knowledge we will take with us from our lesson to practice and study further.  Because what we are about to do is so important, it also allows us a couple of seconds to clear our minds of those everyday thoughts and worries, so that we may better understand the lesson we are about to learn.  We bow to our training partners as an expression of thanks for their knowledge and their patience with us, and for allowing us to train with and learn from them without risking serious injury.  We show respect to our instructors and training partners because we realize that, without their help, we cannot find our way on the path.  Make no mistake about it, we should be proud of our accomplishments, but we must accept the fact that we canot realize these achievements by ourselves.  We could not become the martial artists we are today if it were not for the efforts and patience of others.  We owe a debt of gratitude to our instructors, our fellow students and all those practitioners who came before us.  It is because of them that we are who we are. 

A long time ao, I met a karate practitioner who must have modeled his personae after that of the John Crease character from the original “Karate Kid” movie.  Oh, he was an accomplished karateka for his rank, to be sure, but this guy was also his own biggest fan.  To hear him drone on and on about how he could beat this guy or win that tournament, well, it literally made me nauseous.  Confidence is a desireable quality for a martial artist to have, offensiveness is not.  His goal must have been to alienate as many people as possible, and he was well on his way to succeeding in that endeavor.  The story goes that one day, he made a pass at some poor guy’s girlfriend.  A bar fight ensued, and John Crease was beaten severely by a Viet Nam veteran who was much smaller than himself.  Rumor has it that he never even landed a punch, and did not return to the dojo to train.  Nice to know that sometimes, there is a justice in this world.  In the martial arts, and in life, there is always someone out there who can make us eat our words, so we should choose our words and our actions carefully.  Be proud of who you are and what you have accomplished.  Just remember that you didn’t get there alone.

 Next time: Harmony in the dojo.

As we all know, the various methods of grading martial arts students used today are based on a system developed by Jigoro Kano, the founder of Kodokan Judo.  Kano sensei wanted a means by which he could measure his students’ progress.  He used different colored belts to distinguish among his Judo practitioners, beginners, intermediate and advanced students, and the practice became so popular that it was adopted by many of the other budo systems.  In most systems today, a novice is identified by a white belt, while the black belt is synonymous with an advanced practitioner.  Some systems use only a few colors in between white and black, while others seem to employ every color in the rainbow.  Some arts go so far as to include stripes, patches and even different colored lapels and gi’s to identify rank!  (Of course, the more ranks a school employs, the more frequently it can charge it’s students a testing fee, which means more money for the school.   These schools are condescendingly referred to as “McDojos”, but that’s a topic for another discussion!)  I don’t believe that ranking systems, as originally intended, are a bad thing, particularly for beginning students and most especially for children.  Beginners and kids are unable to recognize the benefits of long-term training, and may need something to motivate them to continue.  Their desire and dedication seem to be renewed when they are presented with a new belt, and they may eventually begin to assimilate real karate training into their lifestyle as they progress through the ranks.  The belt system also aids the sensei in the development of an appropriate lesson plan for their class.  Obviously, the daily lesson for a white belt class would be qualitatively different from that of a green belt class, and would differ quite significantly from that of a black belt class.  In general, however, all ranking systems should be recognized as artiifical, and should be considered as a measure of technical proficiency. But all too often the attainment of rank, rather than the development of one’s character and improvement of the individual as a person, becomes the objective for the martial arts practitioner.  In my opinion, real martial artists should train to acheive personal excellence, not the next belt promotion.  When motivated only to obtain the next rank, we stray from the path of the true budo practitioner; the perfection of our spirit is a life-long objective and the color we wear around our waist is irrelevent in that quest.  As I said before, ranking systems are artificial, and mean nothing in the long run. 

I have to be honest; I didn’t always feel this way.  In fact, I remember a time, after having trained in Shorin-ryu karate do for four years, that I desperately wanted a black belt.  When I finally acheived that goal, I thought I was an expert, that I knew it all.  And then I had the opportunity to train with other black belts, both in our style and in others, and I realized how very little I knew.  Not only was I not nearly as technically proficient, but I was so “rank-conscious” that my journey on the path toward personal enlightenment had stopped.  These other dan ranks put both my technical abilities and my character to shame.  It was a very humbling experience, but one for which I am grateful because it really opened my eyes.  Ever since then, my rank has been almost irrelevent to me.  My belt is black, it signifies that I’m an “advanced beginner” and that’s all that really matters to me.  I actually don’t care how many stripes I have on my belt, who out-ranks me and who doesn’t, or when I am scheduled to test again. I have gone farther in the martial arts than I could have ever anticipated, and karate has given me more than I can ever give back.  I am a student first, a black belt second, and I think I’m finally beginning to find my way back to the path.

But, before I leave this topic, please allow me some final “words of wisdom”, which have been formed thorugh personal observations and experience.  First, in case you didn’t know, it is very distasteful and highly unbecoming to request to be a candidate for promotion.  NEVER ask your sensei to test, it is very, very bad form.  He/she knows when you are ready; trust their judgement and be patient.  If it happens, fine; if not, accept it, look deep inside yourself, train harder and continue to be patient.  Next, it is imperative that you resist the impulse to compare yourself to others.  It doesn’t matter what rank so-and-so holds, or where they line up before class.  The karate you study is YOUR karate, it’s YOUR journey to make of it what YOU will.  Comparing your skills, knowledge and attitude to those of someone else is a waste of time and energy, time and energy that would be better spent how?  HMMMM….let’s see….maybe …TRAINING?  Another practitioner’s rank does not figure into the equation of how you can reach your own personal enlightenment.  Remember, ranks are artifical, and have nothing to do with how you achieve personal enrichment.  Next, accept the fact that you can learn important lessons in karate and in life from anyone.  In karate, that includes a white belt; chances are, because beginners still have a fresh enthusiasm for the basics, they can explain a front kick or middle block better than many shodans.  And while we’re on the subject, we’re never too good or too advanced to practice our basics.  Basics are the foundation upon which the rest of our karate is built, so they’d better be strong enough to support it.  Finally, and perhaps most importantly, it has been my priviledge to train with many martial artists in several different styles, and I have come to the conclusion that character does not equal rank.  Well, most of the time it does.  True martial artists develop and refine their character as they continue their training, and thus have earned the respect of their fellow karateka.  However, there are those who seem to have a sense of entitlement because of the rank they hold, and they have strayed from the path.  They have no honor, no patience, no humility, no self-discipline, and so they have earned no respect.  Don’t be like them; don’t be “rank-conscious”, don’t stop training or worse yet, just go through the motions once you’ve attained a certain rank.  Train hard and always look inward for your rewards.  Rank, and more importantly, respect, personal improvement and self-actualization will naturally follow.  OK, one final thought: I’ve visited a few martial arts websites and listened to some podcasts by other martial artists, and it occurs to me that some of us are pretty darn arrogant.  In my opinion, if you REFER TO YOURSELF as “Master” “Grandmaster”, “Great-Grandmaster”, “Grand Poobah” or anything of the kind, your ego is WAY too involved in your martial studies.  In Okinawa, you would be ridiculed, laughed-at and generally abused for such an ego-centric attitude.  Do yourself a favor, show a little respect for your instructors and some humility on your own behalf and drop the exhalted title.  Next time: Humility.

To me, the martial arts are a means through which we attempt to improve our total character.  We train hard, often alone, as we seek to develop and improve our strength, honor, humility, courage and self-reliance.  This is not an easy journey, and it’s not meant to be.  It can be very difficult to disregard your ego, look objectively at yourself and take inventory of all of the areas in need of improvement.  Not just your physical skills per se, although this takes some objective humility as well, but who you really are as a person.  At least, it’s a difficult task for me.  But, if you continue to do it, you’re well on your way to becoming a true martial artist.  Why?  Because, as you continue to strive towards proficiency in a particular technique, mastery of a certain kata or conquoring one of your worst habilts or fears, the greatest rewards come from within.  The martial arts are meant to be a personal pursuit, and there’s nothing more rewarding than the sense of accomplishment one feels when a personal objective has been met.  To the real martial artist, it doesn’t matter whether someone else recognizes his/her achievement or not; it’s the journey and the struggle that make it rewarding.  The true martial artist trains in the pursuit of personal excellence, and values the intenal rewards that journey may bring.

On the other hand, there are those who seek ego gratification through external means, such as the attainment of trophies, prizes, ranks and public recognition.  There’s nothing wrong with these rewards, as long as they are kept in perspective.  To me, competition is a simply training tool, an opportunity to apply what has been learned and measure by which we can roughly determine our progress (ie, personal development).  But, to compete in a bout or tournament just to win trophies or prize money, and for the public admiration they may bring, is not what the martial arts are meant to be.  This perspective shows a weakness of character, because the rewards are only an artifical measure martial proficiency and artificial rewards never last.  Trophies tarnish, money is spent and fans forget who you are when the next big thing comes along.  Likewise, training simply for a promotion is another example of ego gratification through external rewards.  I’m not opposed to grading systems, but I am opposed to the idea that the higher the rank, the more one has mastered the Way.  If one has this perspective, one’s progress will cease.  Martial artists must not seek external rewards, which are completely artifical, to impress others for one’s own ego gratification.  We’re all human, and we’re all vulnerable to the pitfalls of ego gratification.  As martial artists, we must constantly strive to seek internal rewards, as perfecting our character is a life-long pursuit. 

Next time: Rank 

OK, so I have this blog and I’m often at a loss as to what to write, something that actually might be of interest to others.  Then, after some deliberation (and many Yuengling Lights), it occured to me that I have some strong opinions about the martial arts.  In my twenty years of study, I’ve visited many websites and forums, read a number of books, magazines and journals, watched movies and television programs and listened to podcasts about the martial arts.  In that time, I’ve come to the conclusion that, while there are many dedicated practitioners out there, there are a number of people who believe that they train and live in the budo tradition, but actually do not.  Worse, there are also many disreputable, arrogant and misguided individuals who teach and practice the arts for their own self-serving adgenda.  With this in mind, I thought I’d blog for awhile on what it means to me to be a black belt.  (The operative words in that sentence are “to me”, so don’t blow a gasket, everyone’s entitled to their own opinion, so this will be mine.)  Now, I don’t claim to have all the answers, nor do I believe that I even remotely personify the ideals and values of a dan rank.  Far from it; I’ve often deviated from the path of physical, mental and spiritual discipline characteristic of the budo ways.  But still, it has always been my objective to become the best martial artist I can be.  And, in the true spirit of budo, I hope to use my karate and ju jitsu training to help me become the best person I can be.  Having said that, I believe that the study of a martial art is meant to be more than just practicing a collection of self-defense techniques, a couple of days per week.  I don’t believe that we’re supposed to “do” a martial art like it’s a hobby or recreational pursuit, such as bowling, softball or bingo.  True, there are some out there who may take their study less seriously, train once or twice per week and that’s fine.  For them, learning the art is an end in itself, rather than the means by which they seek to develop a budo spirit.  And, that’s OK, for them.  But, these individuals are not real martial artists.  The martial arts are meant to be a lifestyle, a means by which we seek to improve ourselves in every possible way.  The training is very hard, but it’s supposed to be, because although everyone has the potential, not everyone is meant to be a martial artist.  A REAL martial artist understands the meaning of honor, humility, perseverence, dedication and sacrifice, and apply these concepts not just in the dojo, but in their everyday lives.  I don’t quite fully comprehend these concepts yet, but thanks to my instructors and fellow karateka, I’m beginning to understand and I hope to continue to do so.  The hard, physical training (the Japanese term is ”shugyo”) is meant to forge not only your body, but your mind and spirit, as well.  Those who regularly engage in shugyo training both in a out of the dojo have a better understanding of the martial concepts mentioned above.  They don’t whine or complain, they just accept and do.  I’ve met and trained with many black belts, and most of them are accomplished karateka, but there are but a few who exemplify the true meaning of budo.  We know them when we see them; they’re calm, polite, humble and secure in themselves.  But train with them and you can literally feel their power.  I greatly admire these individuals, and strive to be counted among them.   They are true black belts and, in my opinion,  real martial artists.  But, what is it that makes them so?

In this series, I hope to offer my ideas, right or wrong, of what it means to be a black belt.  What motivates a black belt to continue to train?  Does our rank really mean anything?  How hard should we train?  Are belts really a good idea?  Should we compare our skills to those of others?  How does our attitude affect us as black belts?  Can someone who is not a soldier or law enforcement officer become a “warrior”?  My opinions are based on personal experience and observations, discussions and research.  You might agree, you might not, but feel free to leave a comment regardless and we can discuss and debate.  Next time: Internal vs. External Rewards.

Our dojo is in a mall, and there is always alot of pedestrian traffic just outside our school’s entrance.  There are no doors or windows separating the dojo from the mall,; when we close up for the night, we turn a key and an iron security gate descends from it’s recesses in the ceiling, all the way to the floor.  So even when the dojo is closed, we can see and hear almost everything that goes on just outside.  When we’re open for business, there’s nothing between us and the mall shoppers except for alot of open space.  Just wanted to give you a picture.  Now, most people who pass by the dojo while a class is in session are polite, respectful individuals who either walk past, or briefly stop and watch.  Most people don’t intentionally try to distract the students from their lessons; most people are more mature than that.  However, there is a special class of individuals who feel compelled to draw attention to themselves in a most unflattering way whenever they see martial artists in training.  Most of these losers try to imitate a loud Bruce Lee kiai as they pass the dojo, others will even break into some kind of fighting stance or kata that looks closer to an epileptic seizure than anything of martial quality.  Nevertheless, they engage in these behaviors in a primitive and pathetic attempt to draw attention to themselves.  They believe (and correctly so) that the students and instructors will probably be too busy to follow them out into the mall to confront them, or call security, or respond in any way to their lame attempts at humor.  These rude people are simply envious of the students and instructors, jealous that others have the desire, determination and the intestinal fortitude that they, themselves, are sadly lacking, to train very hard in a martial art.  I don’t know if it’s immaturity, stupidity or a desparate need for attention that motivates them to do this, but they REALLY embarass themselves.  I’ve witnessed this behavior many times, and these idiots need to know that bystanders who also observe these antics look upon the perpetrators with disdain.  (Rude people: PM me on the forum if you’d like me to explain what that word means.)  Anyway, if you’re one of those self-centered, insecure individuals, please allow me to offer a suggestion: Why not just come inside and watch for a few minutes?  If you have a question, why not just ask us?  If you have a comment, why not just make it?  We’d be happy to answer any questions you might have, explain what it is we are doing and probably even offer you a trial membership at a discount price.  Or, are your ego and masculinity so fragile (it’s usually males who do this, figures, doesn’t it?), that you have to engage in a cowardly, “drive-by” harassment of a group of dedicated individuals, who are no threat to you, trying to practice their art?  Actually, I shouldn’t say that we are no threat to you because, if necessary, any one of us could kick your ass with little difficulty.  Of course, you know this, hence the fragile ego, underdeveloped masculinity and poor self-concept.  (Rude people, PM me if you want me to explain, well, you get the idea, Stupid.).  So, if you are one of those morons who make stupid “karaty” noises as you walk by a dojo, please feel free to repress the urge to demonstrate why you think you are the Center of the Universe.  Remember, “It’s better to be silent and be thought the fool, than to speak and remove all doubt”.  (Just PM me, I’ll explain it to you.)  Grow up, swallow your fragile little ego and stop in to chat like an adult, or just to watch.   Or, better yet, just keep walking.  For your own safety.  After all, you never know when we’ll be taking a break. 

Haven’t blogged in awhile, so I thought I’d try to win back your good graces wth some questionable humor I stole from other sites.  Enjoy…..

1) A grizzly bear walks in to a bar, goes up to the counter and asks ‘can I get a shot of……………………………………………………………..whiskey please’
The bartender replies ‘whats with the big pause?’
The bear says ’sheesh, no need to get personal buddy, I only asked for a drink!

2) So a guy sends in ten puns to a pun contest, but they send them all back saying we having certain requirements that need to be met, and sadly no pun in ten did.

3) A man walks into a bar and has two black eyes. The bartender says,
”What happened to you mate? Domestic Violence??”
The man replies,
”No, My dads a Panda.”

4) A blonde yelled across the river to another blonde, “Hey! How do I get to the other side?” The second blonde yelled back, “You are on the other side!”

How do you keep a blonde at home?
Build a circle driveway.

What do you do when a blonde throws a pin at you?
Run! She has a grenade in her mouth!

Ever heard the one where two blonds were arguing what the correct pronounciation was, Iraq or Iran?

5) OK, here’s a marial art-related joke: A man walks into a bar and finds another man abhout half his size and goes over to have a little fun with him, he goes up to him and puches him in the head and says, “That’s a karate punch from Okinawa” the little man shrugs it off and goes to another seat, then the man walks over again and kicks him in the head and says “That’s a Taekwondo kick from Korea” the little man once again shrugs it off and goes to another seat to get away from him, The big guy comes over again and knees him in the head and says “And that was a Muay Thai knee from Thailand” and laughs. So the little guy leaves and comes back about 30 min. later and hits the big guy in the head and he falls out of his chair unconcious. Then he looks up at the bar tender and says “When he comes around tell him that was a crowbar from Sears”

 
6) And one for my buddy Pete: A Buddhist monk was visiting New York City. He stopped by a hot dog vendor and said “Make me one with everything”. The hot dog vendor made the monk his hot dog. The monk gave him a $20 bill which the hot dog vendor took. After an uncomfortable time period passed, the monk said “What about change?” to which the hot dog vendor replied “Change comes from within.”

This post has very little to do with the martial arts, but everything to do with friendship.  On Easter Sunday 2006, I lost a friend and colleague in a tragic boating accident.  His name was Jim Fitzgibbons, but I called him “Grasshopper”.  Jim and I both work for the Central New York Developmental Services Office, a State agency serving the developmentaly disabled.  I am a psychologist there, and Jim was a service coordinator.  Although he was a little rough around the edges, he was genuinely a good guy with a huge heart.  He was compassionate, caring and was willing to drop whatever he was doing just to lend a hand.  Jim often came into work on a Saturday or Sunday, just to check in on a consumer who may be in crisis.  Jim and I had several things in common; we each were married wth two daughters, both huge sports fans, political liberals and we both appreciated a good, raunchy joke.  He was a die-hard Cincinnatti Bengals fan, which speaks volumes about his optimism.  For some reason, Jim more-or-less adopted me as his “big brother”.  I somehow got the feeling that he considered me to be a role-model, and my suspicions were confirmed by many of our office mates.  Jim would come into my office several times throughout the course of the day, asking me for advice or some words of wisdom about a consumer, a colleague or another human service agency.  Or, quite often, just about life’s lessons, in general.  Hence, I called him Grasshopper, the nickname given to David Carradine’s character in the old “Kung Fu” television series.  I don’t believe for a moment that I was worthy of his admiration, but I tried to live up to his expectations all the same, to be a better person because someone actually thought I was.  Not since my kids were little has anyone looked up to me that way.  Jim honored me with his admiration and respect, as I honor him now with my fond memories of him and my gratitude for the work he has done for us.  Life isn’t supposed to work this way.  Jim was supposed to grow old together with his wife, watching their daughters grow up, go to college and eventually get married. He was supposed to retire from the State, and then go on endless fishing and camping trips and take in an occasional baseball game.  He wasn’t supposed to die alone in the Seneca River at age fourty-two.  We will never forget you, Jim.  Rest in Peace, Grasshopper.

The more I think about it, the more I believe that martial arts training should more strongly emphasize defense against weapons. Assailants today are more likely to pull out a club, knife or gun, and I, for one, do not feel as prepared as I should be for this scenario. This is not to say that kata and bunkai practice, sparring and kumite drills are no longer applicable in the study of self-defense. One can become a skilled, dangerous fighter through the practice of empty-hand combat. However, while martial arts practitioners continue to develop and refine their ability to defend against unarmed attackers, there is a strong, realistic probability that a modern-day assailant will attempt to use a weapon of some kind. Sure, our empty-hand training can be applied here, as long as we’re not sent into panic mode by the sight of a weapon. It makes sense to me that martial arts practitioners who have experience defending against an armed attacker are more likely to survive such an encounter, than those who have rarely (or never) practiced such a scenario. So, frequent training against an armed attacker is important; with that I think we’d all agree. But the reality is, we all lead very busy lives, and some of us have to make time just to get to the dojo two or three times per week to train in our art. How are we to fit in another class on weapons defense? Simple! Just add “weapons” to your regular training drills. For example, in our dojo, agreement sparing drills (Yakusoku kumite) and bunkai practice are standard methods of empty-hand training. In these exercises, a defender is attacked by one to as many as four training partners. If the “attackers” were suddenly “armed” (ie, with practice knives or clubs), the training exercises could be performed as usual, but now with an added element of “danger” to simulate a defense against an armed assailant. The practioners could also use a washable marking pen to simulate an edged weapon; these markers would provide visual evidence of where the attackers’ strikes found their mark. Standard, empty-hand curriculum material would still be covered, with the bar now raised to include armed attacks. Of course, defending against a washable marking pen or a rubber knife wil not guarantee our survival when confronted by an armed attacker. Still, it’s a place to start, and practicing these drills might raise our abilities and our awareness, and perhaps even lessen our anxiety, if we were ever confronted by an assailant with a weapon.