Saturday, June 27, 2009

Cotton, Polyester, Silk, & Dye...

...are what a black belt is made of. Often, there are 10-12 lines of stitching to reinforce the long strip of cloth, which makes the belt somewhat thicker since most belts have 6-8 lines of stitching. Sometimes, a base layer of fabric is woven with an additional layer in order to make a longer-lasting belt. In a few cases, black belts contain a touch of silk for extra polish.

All of this signifies absolutely nothing.

Thousands of hours of training, hundreds of classes, countless bumps and bruises = one black belt. (That came from a t-shirt. $19.95 online, plus tax and S&H. Yay for Google!)

Whatever. Showing up to sweat and collect battle scars doesn't make a black belt. Bare-knuckle it, wrestle all you want, swing weapons and throw shuriken. Now you're an assassin...or a masochist.

Physical, mental, and spiritual growth? Mere snapshots in time. Strength and fitness can be lost, techniques and theories forgotten, character and integrity tarnished and thrown away. Now you're a has-been.

Years of study, self-reflection, and inner peace? Congratulations. Now you're a monk. It's not a guarantee that you're a black belt.

What makes a Black Belt is what is left after all of this has been taken away, all the way past the cotton, polyester, silk, & dye. Find what that is, and begin growing from there.

Now you're really training.

On Trust

Pictured:
GM Hyun K. Choi (left), GM Dan K. Choi (right)


In Korea, several decades ago, a young student stood before his master.

The master said, "Go to America and teach. Spread the art."

The student replied, "Yes sir."

Afterwards, the student packed his bags. He left his country, family, and friends to go to America. He settled in the South Bay, not too far from here, and washed dishes to help contribute towards the rent for a small room, which was shared with several others. It took months before he had saved enough to risk opening a tiny training center to begin teaching.

For this, I am forever grateful.

His name was Dan K. Choi, and he is my grandmaster - my teacher's teacher. Were it not for his trust in his master's vision, none of us would be training in the way that we train. From one man's act of faith blossomed dozens, if not hundreds of schools. Easily half of the schools in Santa Clara County are linked in some way to his instructional lineage, including ours.

My first master, Ed Fong, is truly his master's student. His methods are "old school", and his intentions are not entirely discernible at first glance. When I was his senior advisor, I often questioned his vision and his methods (it was my duty); however, I have never questioned his intentions.

Much of my own method is in the spirit of their teachings. I strive to be transparent with my motives when necessary; however, there are times when I am intentionally vague, or pursue directions which do not necessarily make sense right away. When this occurs, I must rely on your trust.

Trust is always an act of faith. It makes our progress together possible.

Thank you for believing in me.

Monday, June 22, 2009

The Cost of Training

Things that are free are often perceived to have low value. We take them for granted. Homecooked meals are amazing after you've been on your own with dorm food, Top Ramen, and JBox to live on.

I used to charge for my lessons. In any given month, I could expect to make anywhere from $125-750 from every student in my school, plus additional fees from outside students. As my students spent their years training diligently under me, I rewarded their loyalty with a bigger monthly bill. I tried to justify it by talking about things like added value, special training, and exclusive opportunities - all of which were true. It made my wallet heavy, but my conscience heavier - not because it's "bad business", not because it's terrible to demand increased dedication from committed students, but because I wasn't giving back the value I was asking for. I knew it, and I asked for it anyway. I abused the trust I had earned. This is my dishonor to bear.

Today, I train people for next to nothing, but regardless of whether I charge, or how much, I always insist on delivering maximum value. What you get here is special.

You have a unique and exclusive opportunity to participate in some of the most revolutionary and innovative training in the world, and while what we do may resemble "those guys in that other school", what goes into our training and what we produce from it are beyond anything that they are offering.

We offer a kind of value that cannot be bought with money.

It is earned through a conscious commitment to train and improve, to support others in their pursuit of excellence, and to ensure that you never take the benefits of our training for granted.

The Question


The Question: What is a 21st century martial artist?

Forgive my brief lapse into cynicism.

From a certain point of view, the martial arts are obsolete: a bunch of people in pajamas, playing with techniques that appear lethal only when we close our eyes and dream.

In another's eyes, it is the glamour of movies and television, where green screens, wires, and CGI blend with stuntmen and horrible acting to entertain the masses.

To others, the arts evolved into a hybrid witnessed by millions on pay-per-view as modern gladiators battle in an explosion of testosterone, sweat, and blood. They treat their arts like a sport or game, the kind reserved for the UFC, the Olympics, tournaments, sports camps, exercise, and friendly horseplay.

Several envision themselves as modern warriors, a reborn samurai or ninja, or perhaps as a Rambo-Chuck Norris crossbreed.

It is a billion-dollar industry, with most of the money landing in the wallets of savvy businessmen who withhold their knowledge to “earn” next month's tuition and build their wealth, while honest teachers live in stoic poverty.

There are artists, historians, and philosophers who are enamored by pretty things, classic stories, and metaphysical ponderings; preachers who abuse the arts to profess their favorite prophet; bullies who like to hit people; bubbly aerobics teachers kicking to the beat; and children who view it as something to play with their friends.

Pardon me, but if that's what it means to be a martial artist, then I quit.

We are capable of far better than this. I have spent my life creating more than this, and I know that your experience is worth much more to you than the trivialities that I've described.

The way that you answer “The Question” affects the kind of martial artist you can AND will be.