I Dare You (What Insipres YOU?)

When I was a little boy, maybe eight years old, my mother gave me a curious little book titled, I Dare You by William H. Danforth. It's a tiny little book, and I still pull it down from the shelf every now and again whenever I need a bit of inspiration. When my mother gave the book to me some 30 years ago, it was already worn out — It even smelled like an old book, so I think she'd had it in her possession for a number of years before passing it on to me. I was an avid reader back then (I still am!), and I read through I Dare You over and over. I never got sick of it. I didn't realize at the time the effect that little book would have on my life.

I was pleased to find today that the book is still in print. Find it here.

Today, I'm a martial arts instructor. But in my martial arts training, I'm playing all-out to get outside of the practice of punching and kicking by studying things like meditation, anger management, and nutrition, and by engaging in community service projects to make the world around me a better place. I'm trying LIKE HELL to transcend the physical aspects of the martial arts — even while I'm teaching all the little specific details that make shorinji-ryu karate so unique. And though I'm pretty sure that I'm not motivated by trophies or new ranks, I'm training for my next belt test like a man possessed. I want to see what I have inside of me.

I'm a writer, too: In the last two weeks, I've written two UBBT Journal entries, I've updated my dojo's Self Defense Resources blog, and I've authored three short articles for Examiner.com.

I guess I'm what you'd call "an expert in my field." This is what I do. I lead by example. I don't expect anyone to keep up with me, and I'm not in competition with anyone. But sometimes I feel like I'm not pushing hard enough, because I don't feel like I've inspired anyone to change their own habits and then help other people to improve their lives.

So today, to my students at Emerald Necklace Martial Arts (and in honor of my Mom, who inspires me), I offer this Dare:

I know that whatever you may be doing at the moment, you can do more. I know that whatever challenge you may be facing in your life, you can overcome it. You are so much more than what you're currently demonstrating.

So show me what you're really capable of! Show me that your interest and commitment to your training goes beyond what you get out of coming to the dojo two or three times a week. Show me — and the rest of the world — that you really do take your training home with you when you step off the mat and take off your gi.

I DARE YOU to feel what giving and contributing can do to your experience of being a genuine martial arts student/leader.

I DARE YOU to stand tall, think tall, smile tall, and live tall.

I DARE YOU to be an Artist of Life.

I Wish I Could Do More

I've done a lot of amazing things in my life, and still, I wish I could do more.

• I'd like to learn a sword art.
  
  
• I'd like to be more at ease with my yoga and meditation practice.
  
  
• I'd like to be more conversant in another language.
  
  
• I'd like to read more books. (Shoot, I'd like to write more books!)
  
  
• There are UBBT events that I'd like to attend, but I can't get to them.
  
  
• There's a tournament coming up this fall in Sacramento. And as much as I'd like to be there to support the event, I won't be there.
  
  
• I wish I could cure my daughter's diabetes. I never went to medical school, so I'm depending on a lot of good people to get that one crossed off my list.
  
  
• I'd like to go on a month-long backpacking expedition in Peru or Nepal — or both. (And I want to afford college and a comfortable retirement)

I could go on and on. There's so much more I want to learn and experience, but I'm constrained by the realities of time, energy, finances, age, physical limitations, personal choices, and of course, my lovingly upheld obligations to family. Damn!

But then again, so is everyone else.

Every day, we all get the same 24 hours. So no, I'm not making excuses for all the things I've failed to do or accomplish. I'm not feeling sorry for myself, either. Rather, today I'm just facing — perhaps really for the first time — the stark reality that while I know for sure that I can accomplish ANYTHING that I want to do in my life, I can't possibly accomplish EVERYTHING that I want to do.

So some tough choices need to be made.

It's time for me to re-organize and re-prioritize my "big to-do list" based on what I REALLY want. I can do anything I want to do, but I won't get to it all. Because the clock is ticking on my life.

I'm in need of some serious focus. So today I ask myself this: When I'm lying on my death bed (hopefully many, many, many years from now, resting comfortably and content in the company of loved ones who adore me), what will I regret having not done?

Revisiting The Black Belt Traits

In our dojo, we frequently focus on a list of virtues that I have come to call the "Black Belt Traits." The list is designed to help answer the question, "What qualities and personality characteristics should students from our dojo exemplify in their lives and daily actions?"

A few years back, I assembled the list of Black Belt Traits (respect, compassion, gratitude, patience, integrity, discipline, responsibility) from my own experiences and introspection, plus a number of martial sources, including the samurai code of Bushido, the European feudal knight's code of chivalry, and the leadership principles and core values of the United States Marine Corps. It's not a bad list, but is it a complete one?

I recently participated in an interesting conversation about the classical and modern martial virtues, in which a number of other values and character traits were mentioned. "Honor," "courage," and "right action" were discussed. (There was even an interesting digression about the virtues of "revenge" and "ritual suicide," but the conversation eventually got back on track.)

Opinions were all over the board. But it all got me thinking: There's certainly lots of value in our classical and modern martial virtues, but as modern-day martial artists (i.e., individuals not engaged as professional warriors, living lives in which, generally, the likelihood of facing mortal combat or deadly physical assault is fairly low), might we also add some positive, but decidedly non-martial qualities to our list of the values that we seek to embody?

Today, I'm thinking about "Generosity" and "Kindness."

On Community Activism and the Martial Arts

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You Can't Push A String!

On Friday mornings during the school year, I teach an hour-long "enrichment" karate class to a group of 4th and 5th graders at a local elementary school before I head into work for the day. It's usually a fun and rewarding class: I get to do what I love with a great group of enthusiastic and energetic kids. We practice kicks and punches, we talk about martial arts in the movies, we have great conversations about respect and discipline, and I teach a little about karate history and philosophy along the way.

Last week, however, I started to teach a new group, and it was a total nightmare: the kids were inattentive, disrespectful, and noisy from the very beginning. It must have been the nice weather on a Friday before a long weekend, or so I thought. The students' poor behavior spiraled quickly downward to the point that I felt that I could no longer conduct a safe class. I made several attempts to regain control, but I failed each time. So as much as I hated to do it, I retreated to my last resort: I brought the kids back into their classroom, and I directed them to sit down and read silently at their desks for the rest of the period. And at the end of the hour, I left the school feeling defeated and dejected.

Ugh.

So last night I found myself dreading returning to my Friday morning class to endure another frustrating and disappointing experience. While preparing dinner, I sighed and said to my wife, "Man, I just don't know what I'm gonna do with these kids tomorrow."

She simply responded with a smile as she chopped the vegetables for our salad. "Well, dear, you're going to teach them," she said.

And, bam, it hit me:

How ironic was it that I could be confident facing an armed aggressor, and yet be apprehensive about the prospect of engaging a small group of unruly 11-year olds? Had all my years of training taught me nothing? Where was the all fearlessness and determination that I've learned in the dojo? Where had my ability to endure hardship gone? Where was my mastery? Had I lost the desire to help and inspire others with and through my art? No!

So I put on a new attitude on my way to class this morning. I assembled a lesson plan that would engage and amaze even the most unimpressable child. I downed a cup of coffee, and headed off to class full of energy and excitement.

Within the first 5 minutes of class, I got some feedback:

"This is stupid."

"Can we do something else?"

"I don't like karate."

"This is so boring."

Then the side conversations started, followed quickly with fooling around that led to pushing and shoving and posturing among the children. %@*#&! I'd lost the class again!

Once more I stopped teaching, directed the kids back to their desks, and had each of them open a book for silent reading. And then I realized that that's probably exactly what they wanted to do this morning in the first place.

My sensei once told me, "You can't push a string." He's right. No one learns karate or appreciates what it has to offer unless they truly want to. It's something that can't be forced. You can't win 'em all, I guess. But what the heck am I gonna do for next week's class?