Talking to Myself Again

I helped out with the San Shou class tonight. Peter was running it, and I was doing my daily 150's in the back of the room, followed by some light sparring with Randy. Then when the actual matches started, Randy and I corner judged. Up to that point my only contribution to the class was sucking up oxygen. What was I contributing to my students by doing my own thing?

Is it motivating for my guys to see me turning red and sweating. Counting my pushups 20 at a time, only to try to make it 25 per set for next week.... then 30, and so on.

Maybe, maybe not. I remember as a student not even noticing anyone else working out. It was just me and my goal. My will alone against my objective. I realize this sounds narsarsistic , but that is how I approached it. That was my world. Look out for yourself, cover your own back, because if you don't there will be knives in it. It was just me, and a whole lot of darkness.

What I did find profound and amazing is the talks after class. I hung on every word Master Brinker said. In my tangled and very rough history of life, there was sense, calm, and order to be found. An eye in the storm as it were. Those talks saved my life, not the kicking and punching, not the pushups and sit ups, not the achieving of belts with single minded determination.

The idea that there was light in the world. That there were choices and that control of one's destiny was attainable. For all the terrible things I survived, I had not lived. Kung fu's principles, and the belief my instructor had in me, taught me to trust other human beings. Taught me to be more than an angry, jaded, vengeful teenager. It got me an education, got me to quit smoking, reinforced my resolve not to get involved with drugs. But most of all, it kept me from attempting suicide again. Yes again.

I remember telling Travis Panasiuk that changing your life is like climbing a ladder. I had gone through many of the struggles he was facing. I told him that he was on the ladder, below him, trying to pull him down was his past. The people he cared about but were not always good for him. Many of them would try to pull him down off the ladder. To keep him from rising above what they have accepted as their life. I told him to remember to look up. Above him on that ladder were the people who wanted him to succeed. For every person below trying to stop him, there were many more, trying to pull him up. Trying to help him achieve his dreams. I had a long talk with him the night before he died, and the last thing I said was that he was going to be alright. That we believed in him. Less than 12 hours later he was killed in a car accident.

It's not the pushups, but the compassion. I told our guys tonight that they have to remember the balance. Power with control, assertiveness with empathy, but always compassion.

What are we but cold angry beings, if not for our ability to feel the warmth of others? To participate in their success, to mourn their sorrow. I've lived on the other side of empathy. Feeling only the anger and receiving only the abuse of others. It made me very hard, unforgiving, and above all angry. If not for the intent behind the lesson, I would not be who I am today. With out the talks at the end of class, I doubt very much I would be alive.

So no, I don't think my sweating and pushing myself physically has helped my students. I feel my contribution tonight was the reminder that we are all fragile in one way or another, and that we have the ability to empathize. An ability we need to use and encourage others to develop. It is about balance.

Hope you guys enjoy this blog, because when I come to my senses it's getting deleted. I'm not so much of a sharing, fuzzy feelings type, and there is a lot of very personal information here that I'm sure I'll regret posting. But in the mean time, find your passion, live your beliefs, and take some friends along for the ride.