We learned that these experiences were life’s lessons

There’s this story about my old karate uniform: Good friend Danny Dulay bought it when he first took karate in 1966. He took classes with Ken Rossen, one of the few black belts of the time; trained for years before coming back to being one of my students in 1983. Slightly heavier, he traded his threadbare gi for mine. Mind you, I was in my peak, devoting long hours, fanatic about working out, the uniform representing this fanaticism; rips, tears, holes and ungainly yellow stains that bleach could not clean. I kept it till Abe Belardo, sensei, friend and partner bought me a new uniform and hung my old on the wall next the other rusted and ancient weapons. It was hard to relinquish it as it represented a metaphor, the resilience and strength of me working for a goal. Goals and aspirations; forks and a tunnel; distractions and mistakes; wants and needs; struggles and a torn gi, the martial arts provided a basis of worth that was controlled by one’s ability and desire to improve, perfect, and achieve enlightenment and self-actualization. Though based upon the warrior mentality, training provided a way to seek inner peace through diligence and self-sacrifice. It symbolized a personal journey, a path I walked that others shared.

It didn’t take long to figure it out, that I belonged to an odd group: short, tall, skinny, tall, rich, poor, strong, weak, white, black, yellow, red, talented in ways that make us special, normal and weird out of space freaks. We were adequate and exceptional; employed and unemployed; priests and parishioners; religious and agnostics; politicians and constituents; doctors and patients; policemen and gangbangers; couch potatoes and athletes; housewives and house husbands; instructors and players; businessmen and employees; married, divorced, separated, and single; elderly, adult, young adult and teen, child; healthy, sick, ill, injured, ambulatory, non-ambulatory, and disabled. We shared this bond with Jaden Smith who played Zao Dre and Ralph Macchio who played Daniel-san in the “Karate Kid”;David Carradine who played Kwai Chang Caine in“Kung Fu”; Lo Lei who played Chao Chi-Hao in “Five Fingers of Death”; Bruce Lee who played Zhen Chen in“Fist of Fury” and Mr. Lee in “Enter the Dragon”; Jet Li who played Fong Sai Yuk in “The Legend”; Jackie Chan who played Wong Fei-Hung in “Drunken Master”;Donnie Yuen who played Ip Man in the “Story of Ip Man”; and the many mixed martial artists too long to list but notably: Royce Grace, Chuck Liddell, Randy Couture, and Ken and Frank Shamrock, and boxers Mohammed Ali, Sugar Ray Robinson, Joe Lewis, Rock Marciano, Manny Pacquiao, Julio Ceasar Chavez, the list goes on and on. We share this bond with the sensei’s, sifus, abbots, guru’s, instructors, trainers, family, friends, relatives, associates and strangers who introduced us to this art. In this world, we practiced wrestling, judo, boxing, karate, Muay Thai kickboxing, aikido, jujitsu, iado, bojitsu, kempo, kung fu, jeet kune do, wing chun, taijiquan, qigong, tae kwon do, tang so do, bajiquan, bagua, penchak silat, kuntao, arnis, eskrima, kali, kalari payattu; capoeria, sambo, krav maga, chin na, savate, and sumo. With all these similarities, what made us different was a desire to reach a goal that was unique: elusive, deep, and personal.

The method was through martial arts.

As a civilized society, I learned that fighting, the act of war was unavoidable despite being intellectually wise and of deep religious faith. I’d like to think myself a smart guy, perhaps not smart enough to cure cancer, but sure enough to understand most things. I've got to say that why we as a human race possess this need to kill and destroy is beyond me. Clear and sad is that violence occurs every second of the day, perhaps not to you nor me, but certainly to someone in this world, this very second, and, ultimately, we’ve got this natural fear of death; not just any death, but a bad one that represented any one of the top ten worse case scenarios imaginable; and of course in the hands of an enemy who could be anyone: the grocery clerk, little Johnny’s dad who delivered mail each day, his neighbor.

To quote a very wise man, "We're all crazy and we're all gonna die."

I’d like to think myself as not one of them (crazies that is). I have my own salvation. It occurred way back when, in a dark theater. Paid the dollar ticket with three quarters, one dime and three nickels. Buddies of mine said this movie was the best movie in the whole wide world. Knew it that day, when I saw Lo Leih in "Five Fingers of Death" that I vowed to be like him and other martial arts greats. With death as the only obstacle preventing me from learning the martial arts, I had no excuse. Martial arts training was mental, physical and spiritual. It represented strength in adversity and weakness; kindness and compassion in the midst of prejudice and selfishness; love in hate. This meant emulating from great masters that includes: Jesus, Mohammed, Moses, Confucius and most certainly which was overlooked, our parents. Through training and meditation, truth was revealed past the facade of pessimism and evil. In this case, wisdom was needed to achieve this goal.

I built up this ridiculous crazy notion that if and when I started martial arts training, I’d transform into this hero, defender of the weak and frail, a soldier of good, justice and the American way honor bound to die in battle defeating evil.

I was introduced to this as a child watching television and reading ten cent comic books. The bad guy and his intent to destroy the world is defeated by a mythical yet real hero flying and singing an operatic slogan: “Here I come to save the day,” or “High Oh Silver and away,” Or “There’s no need to fear, Underdog is here,” or more classic still, Tarzan’s operatic but primal-yell.

What I understood, by just watching these shows, gave me comfort that these characters cartoon or otherwise, had special gifts, powers and abilities, all occurring within a 30 minute period, complete with sugar-filled cereal commercials. These heroic images, along with many more, collectively, made the world a better place.

As warriors with illusions of peace and misguided intentions, there will always be an expectation of violence. Children are taught that death belongs to our foes; a perception well depicted through video game representations; enemy combatants kill at the push of a button. Do the job right, and the point tally validates it. Get it wrong, and the game ends, plain and simple.

I was taught that killing was and is wrong, an expressed negative behavior that, at all cost, should be avoided. I learned this by being Catholic. Catholics are Christians. Thou shalt not kill, we kill anyway.

As samurai, killing was spiritual. Free choice is a right that is indeed confusing. Each of us is entitled to our own perception of fact and fantasy. I was told that spirituality is like trying to grasp water; the more you put in your hand, the more difficult it is to grasp. These contradictions do not make sense especially if logic was used in the process of reasoning. Spirit is a term used to depict the heart and soul of an individual, the core value that determines who and what we are, colors that shined and aromas that permeated, feelings of warmth and comfort with the explosion of a cymbals crashing upon the verisimilitude of one’s true self, being, existence, and ultimately, the roar of support that sparked the burst of energy in my legs that sent me into the end zone with the game winning touchdown. It reflected against the circle of life that determined destiny, fortunes, poverty, yin and yang. It’s why chop sticks were used in Asia and forks elsewhere.

Asian philosophy was well known in throwing out innuendos that’s supposed to provide epiphanic revelations like answers to questions not yet asked. Mysteries inside a void, self-doubt and fear unresolved by life’s twists and turns brought more insecurity if not dealt with from a core level.

When I relived days of past, the feelings of high came easily and natural. When I became an adult, I lost this ability. Precociousness and innocence were replaced with hurt, pain and sorrow. The appreciation of beauty was blackened by negativity. Life took second fiddle to the preparation of death. Others used mind altering drugs to bring them back. I came to grips with a feeling that life was fleeting and death certain; not the end of life as we know it but the portal to a new. Martial arts practice achieved a feeling of satisfaction and grace not felt otherwise. We learned that it was okay to have problems, shortcomings and failures. We learned that these experiences were life’s lessons, to enjoy and appreciate, and endure.