Ed Fong, Master Teacher

Kwan Jang Nim Ed Fong was my first teacher in the arts, a guide who showed me my life's path before I knew where to step, a mentor whose advice I still seek out, and a man whom I will always honor as my master.

It is an unusual concept in the U.S. to refer to someone as master, but there is no other term which accurately describes the relationship that I have with Master Fong. In his presence, and among those who would know the reference, I often refer to him only by the Korean honorific, Kwan Jang Nim (Master, also abbreviated as 'KJN'). Even though there are thousands of KJNs in the world and I address all of them with the respect they are due, when *I* say the title 'kwan jang nim', I think of one man and only one man first.

KJN and I have been close for many years. He has been my mentor, guide, and friend; however, I have never addressed him by his first name. I know a lot of people named 'Ed', 'Eddie', 'Edward', etc. None of them are KJN. No other Ed can get me to do what Master Fong can get me to do. When my master speaks to me, my life's path is laid before my eyes clearly and his words stay with me long after our conversation fades into a dim memory. I don't mean this blindly - I'm perfectly aware of my master's humanity and his capacity for error, but even when I disagree with him, I still leave with an energy that few people can inspire within me. Regardless of whether I leave motivated, puzzled, honored, offended, supported, frustrated, and/or any other combination of feelings, I find myself drawn to return again and again, as if a piece of my heart and soul are forever rooted in our student-teacher connection. (That's because it's true.)

Often, when I visit, parts of our meeting remind me of the original 1977 Star Wars film, when Vader addresses his former master and friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi, arrogantly telling him: "The circle is now complete. When I left you, I was but a learner. Now I am the master."

Despite having become a master within my own right, when I return to my master's side, I am reminded that the circle is far from complete. I am - and always will be - his apprentice, forever striving to be worthy of being considered one of his most trusted students. His insight borders on the extraordinary, far beyond mine on my best days. My master already knows where my life is headed before I've even begun to move in that direction. When I visit him, he is rarely surprised when I share what's been happening in my life. Instead, he is almost always ready with advice for me, whether or not he agrees with my choices, and whether or not I am prepared to hear his teachings. I find that his ability to know each of his students well enough to try and offer guidance on their individual paths has molded my own impression of how a master teacher relates and deals with each of their students. In both his shortcomings and his strengths, I find that there are still lessons for me to learn from him and apply within my life.

Every martial artist of note can (and should) be able to trace their lineage, and while you all know me, knowing who I trained with will help you further in establishing relationships with other martial artists around the world, because we're all one big family. Some of you have had the privilege of being one of KJN Fong's students, in one form or another; however, for many of you on this list, Kwan Jang Nim Fong is your grandmaster - your teacher's teacher. I hope that you can meet him someday and experience a glimpse of the man who helped me forge myself into the person that I am today.

Rare is the person who can impact lives in the way that he can.

A Living Legend Discusses Tradition

Today's somewhat-longer-than-usual blurb addresses the topic of tradition. Among many martial artists, what we practice is not considered traditional martial arts - and that label carries several connotations within the larger martial arts community, some positive, most not. In constructing the Anamika system, I saw myself as advocating a 'new tradition', one which honors the past (as stated in our student creed), yet is socially progressive and flexible in order to adapt to the needs of today's world and practitioners.

But enough about me...today's blurb comes from An-Shu Stephen Hayes, a 10th degree black belt, founder of the martial art of To-Shin Do (a traditional adaptation based on his experience in ninjutsu and other Japanese arts of the Bujinkan), founder-director of the Kasumi-An, and author of 19 books about the martial arts. An-Shu Hayes is a student of Masaaki Hatsumi (who founded the Bujinkan and is the lineage holder/grandmaster in all 9 styles taught by the organization).

All those credentials really just mean that Stephen Hayes is about as 'old school' as they come!

With the exception of his overly friendly and warm demeanor (hardly the image of a traditional grandmaster), Hayes is arguably one of the most traditional martial artists living today, so when I think about traditional martial arts, I often turn to his writings.

Here's what he had to say in a recent article (June 2009, Martial Arts Professional):

I want to start by asking: if yours [your style] is an ancient tradition, when did it "freeze" into its final form? When did your tradition stop growing, researching, and incorporating innovation?

If you are practicing with Eda era (late 1600s through mid-1800s) swords, then your system is an upgraded version of the techniques of the Sengoku Warring States period (1500s), during which a completely different style of sword was used. If you claim to practice the original tradition of Japanese sword, as applied in the Sengoku era, then your system is an upgraded version of the Muromachi era (1300s into the 1500s), with its distinct style of swords and techniques.

How do you decide just how traditional you want to be? If yours is an ancient tradition, how would the founder do things if he or she were to start today? What was the founder's motivating purpose to create what eventually became your tradition?

If it was self-protection, then what were the prevailing types of attack that he or she had to address? Do you think that those same attacks are in use today?

If the point was health cultivation, then do you believe that they knew more or different information about health then, as compared to today?

If the point was spiritual or character development, then what were the cultural conditions that the founder wanted your martial practice to counter? Do those same conditions apply to your culture today?

Today, when I watch martial artists hold their precious traditions close to them as they claim to train their students in modern self-defense, I see them as if they were overzealous Civil War enthusiasts who somehow claim to know how to defeat carjackers, gang violence, date rape, and angry soccer moms who are late for Zumba class. Don't get me wrong - I find military history (especially the Civil War) quite fascinating and worth studying, and the classic "shoot 'em with your musket" can be easily adapted to modern technology. It's just that some of the relics from that era are best left there, others can be modified, and whatever still rocks can be passed down - along with a thorough history lesson. Bayonet defense might still be useful today, to an extent, because people still get stabbed....but I'm not going to confuse the study of the bayonet with knife defense.

It's fine and dandy if you want to consider yourself a traditional martial artist (I *still* do), but be a traditionalist for the right reasons and with the right traditions. Just because something was traditional doesn't automatically make it right, useful, or valuable. If you're practicing it because it's beautiful and/or interesting, fine. Just don't confuse "useful at the time" with "useful right now", or toss out blanket judgments to anyone who's not doing it exactly like Master Oogway did it on top of the mountain thousands of years ago.

Now, if you don't mind, I must practice my trebuchet form with my phalanx. Grab a crossbow and cover me, else I shall split thee in twain. (j/k)

All That Spinny Flashy Stuff

...just might get someone knocked out in the ring, and on 4/4/09, it did!

(0:29-0:30, but the first 28 seconds is worth watching too)



Nice job, Maestro Aurelio! Everyone else: go practice today. :)

Island Living

When you live on an island, every interaction is precious. There's a finite limit on the number of people that you're going to be able to talk to. Since everyone knows everyone else, you always have to be on your best behavior.

On an island, you can't choose to ignore certain people, or make connections solely for personal gain at others' expense. You can't 'play the field' and live for one-night-flings and wild parties. In school, you can't write off certain teachers or students just because you're not compatible as BFFs. In general, you can't afford to mess up because island life isn't full of an endless supply of people for you to 'start over' with. You get one chance to make a first impression, and that impression matters.

In America, the place where the islands come together, the spirit of 'island life' is often lost in the crowd, in the busy-ness (or business?) of daily living, in just trying to scrape by. In hard times, we often focus on ourselves, and the notion of feeling any connection with others is reduced to whether or not "they were nice to me first". This is a betrayal of one of the most practical aspects of our ancestry…because we all came here from somewhere else. We’re all “island people”, in a manner of speaking.

Island life, community life, family life – call it whatever – relies on every individual participating as part of a larger whole. The whole nourishes the individual, and simultaneously, the individual nourishes the whole. Break this cycle and you break a community. Perhaps that’s what we’re seeing in our world right now.

It's time to stop voting people off of the island.

How would our lives change if we treated EVERYONE as someone important?

Made of Awesome

Sometimes it's best to let images do the talking.

With that in mind, enjoy 3.5 minutes' worth of AWESOME.

Two Monks and a Woman

Today's issue is a old short story, circulated often on the Internet, but still worth sharing:

Two monks were walking along a river when they came upon their usual crossing point. At the crossing was a woman in tears. The older monk asked her what the problem was, and she told him that she was deathly afraid of the water and could not swim.

So, the older monk suggested that she climb upon his back and he would carry her across. The younger monk followed them across, shaking his head the whole time. When they reached the other bank, the older monk put the woman down, acknowledged her thanks with a slight bow, and then the two monks resumed their path while the woman went her own way.

The younger monk was obviously agitated and continued shaking his head, muttering under his breath. After about 2 miles of this, the older monk finally asked him what was wrong.

The young monk said, "We are prohibited from any contact with women, yet you carried that woman across the river on your back. You let her crawl onto you and you held her! Terrible, just terrible. Wait until the abbot hears of this!"

The older monk gave a slight smile and said to his younger companion:

"I left her 2 miles back at the crossing. Why are you still carrying her?"

Perhaps many of us have also been carrying something far longer than necessary. Let it go. What's done is done. Leave it back at the river crossing and continue along your journey.