Last December, I ended the latest experiment in my seesaw relationship with the martial arts.
I have a love-hate relationship with martial arts. On the one hand, I’m hypnotically attracted to them, to the idea of being a Warrior in a grand, mythic sense. On the other hand … I hate fighting.
I took shotokan karate for three years, won a couple of trophies in a tournament, got a green belt. Shotokan karate is a very “hard” style — you punch and kick as hard as you can and do everything with ear-splitting “kiai!” shouts. Great for the young, maybe. I burned out.
I immediately cast around for an alternative. I found wing chun kung fu — in particular, a lineage of wing chun that prided itself on employing softness and sensitivity, a la tai chi, instead of brute force. I’m short and small and quiet; it was perfect.
I trained in wing chun for two years, including one intensive summer with the famous (in wing chun circles) Sifu Kenneth Chung up in San Francisco. Then I quit, shortly before moving to the Teaching Drum. I really enjoyed learning the soft, subtle aspect of the art, but man, I got really drained sparring with people.
When I got to Long Island several months ago, I decided to get back into the martial arts, but I wanted something even less combative, so I picked tai chi. The problem is that I am an eminently practical person, and I wanted the tai chi to be usable in some “real” sense. Some tai chi teachers turn it into almost a dance. I wanted to learn it as it was originally meant to be used, which meant martial applications. But I was content with learning the form and doing push-hands exercises here and there. So I was straddling a fine line.
Then in December I had the opportunity to do a one-day workshop with Master Gianfranco Pace, a visiting Chen-style master from Italy who came to demonstrate and work with people. He had a rare touch that really reminded me of Sifu Chung, an ability to absorb any energy directed at him without giving way, the power to move you effortlessly. He was remarkable.
I never went back.
During the workshop I just kept putting myself in his shoes, imagining myself with the kind of power he had, and realizing that I did not want to spend years of my life learning how to injure people. Which is what it amounts to. The skill with which that man could hurt others effortlessly was astonishing, and frightening.
This is, however, a very confusing topic. I know that many martial artists are very serious, mature, and spiritual. How do they justify the violence?
Former streetfighter Marc “Animal” MacYoung outlines five focuses of the martial arts. These are also five ways in which it can be distinguished from the brutal, self-serving forms of violence:
- Self-defense/professional use of force
- Tradition/physical art/self-discipline
- Spiritual/health
- Sport/tournament
- Demonstration
Of these five, #4 and #5 are ritual forms of dance or competition, and as such are often not considered “real” martial arts. The ones I’m interested in — the ones with depth, which make claims to profound meaning — stem from #2 and #3.
The great masters — people like tai chi master Cheng Man-Ch’ing and Morihei Ueshiba, founder of aikido — were profoundly philosophical and spiritual people. Many people speak of the highest forms of martial arts as #3, a spiritual pinnacle.
But those who can speak of martial arts as a way of peace, and truly walk their talk, are few. Few have the skill of the masters. And in order to get there, one has to train in the trenches. To fight. To learn to wield violence against another human being.
Surely there are better ways to enlightenment.
I’m not saying that there are no benefits to the martial arts. But do they not glorify violence? Do they not focus your attention and your efforts on the use of the body as a weapon? Do they not develop your intent and your ability to hurt others? How is that consistent with the high spiritual ideals of martial arts traditions?
The Spirituality of Violence
- The Spirituality of Violence, Part 1: Violence and the Martial Arts
- The Spirituality of Violence, Part 2: The Myth of Redemptive Violence
- The Spirituality of Violence, Part 3: Consensual Psychic Reality and the Domination System
- The Spirituality of Violence, Part 4: A Short Biblical Interlude
- The Spirituality of Violence, Part 5: Living the Lie
- The Spirituality of Violence, Part 6: Revisiting the Martial Arts
- The Spirituality of Violence, Part 7: Engaging the Violence Within
- The Spirituality of Violence, Part 8: The Road Home
- The Spirituality of Power: The Transformation of Violence
- The Spirituality of Power: Return to the Martial Arts?
- The Spirituality of Nonviolence: On Not Becoming What We Hate
- The Spirituality of Power: Hidden Forces
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[...] Returning to the discussion of martial arts begun in Part 1: In this context, what does it mean to learn to fight? [...]
I would like to answer your questions… I’m a student of Master Gianfranco Pace, i’m italian and right now i’m here in N.Y.with him. When i readed your comment I spoke about it with my master which pleased me to send his answer to you.. I’m sorry for my english..
The man who sincerely practice martial arts, thanks to the work and to the discipline, begin to follow and introspective path which leads him to a “coscience”. Rarely this coscience is picked up, only with an hard self-work it can be obtained. This “coscience” should give the possibility to self-improve.
Why is this possible? because the introspective work leads to the knowledge and to the solution of our weaknesses.
A man who accepts his weaknesses (and then who got the solution) gain a centrality and then become selfsure, and then he becomes able to have relations with all the things in the World.
This is not violence, this is not peace, this is harmony with all the things, and using all the abilities to be “centered” man, and then to be better man.
The gained coscience will leads to a better way in using energy in all the levels, Maybe we’ll obtain better ability in love others, Maybe we’ll obtain better ability in hurt others, this will depends on the man, but do you believe that a man who followed the path I’m talking about, will choose the “way of violence”? or will choose the “way of peace”?
Master Pace advice you to continue your martial arts practice, and to review your approach with them.
Master Pace would have the pleasure (if is it also yours) to see you in the seminars which will be attended from the 5th to the 10th of June, So maybe we’ll be able to develop and discuss your themes and opinions..
This is very fascinating. I wish you’d left an e-mail address so that I could dialogue with you some more. Instead I’ll write another post; I invite you to comment again. Thanks for writing.
[...] Today I received an interesting comment from an Italian student of the Italian teacher of Chen tai chi, Master Gianfranco Pace, whom I mentioned in my first post in this series — he was the man who so impressed me with his martial arts ability that I quit tai chi. Here’s an excerpt of the student’s comment (edited for readability — the full comment can be found here): The man who sincerely practices martial arts, thanks to the work and to the discipline, begins to follow an introspective path which leads him to a “conscience.” Rarely [is] this conscience picked up [by mere chance], only with hard self-work can it be obtained. This “conscience” should open up possibilities for self-improvement. [...]
[...] While finishing up my latest read, The Warrior Within, I found an interesting statement that gives me a different perspective on the whole martial arts thing that started this exploration into violence in the first place. Serious engagement in at least one major martial art is an activity with unparalleled effectiveness in mastery of one’s Warrior energy. One could effectively argue that the dojo of the martial arts traditions is one of the more important contemporary “temples” for this divine energy of the human soul. It is a space equally as “sacred” as any church sanctuary — and one perhaps far more promising as a resource for harnessing and channeling the energies of masculine aggression for the human community. [...]
[...] It is in this world, in the context of this belief system, that I have struggled incessantly against the apparent and seemingly undeniable need to become violent in order to protect myself from violence. This is the environment in which I have repeatedly taken up and then quit training in various martial arts, and the environment in which I embarked on an exploration of alternative means to engage violence. [...]
[...] It was actually quite similar to my account of dropping out of tai chi. Last November, I took a series of qigong workshops with Sifu Wong. They weren’t bad. I had been doing qigong steadily for a year, so much of it was not new to me, but now I was learning from the teacher’s teacher, and learning directly from him was more like getting a supercharged version. [...]
[...] world. Lately, then, I’ve been thinking about martial arts. I’ve been thinking about my experience a few years ago with Chen tai chi master Gianfranco Pace, and how seeing his awesome ability made [...]