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The Substance of Humility
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The Substance of Humility
By Steve Gregan
The substance of humility is elusive.
Its quality is intangible, since the awareness of its existence can nullify its
essence. So, how does one attain a humble nature, and remain detached from an
awareness of it?
I've seen changes in some people who spend more than a minimal
amount of time studying the martial arts. I'm one of them. It seems that in any
system of hierarchy, certain attitudes are apt to appear. Judgment is built into
the structure, therefore superiority and rank. It is how we progress in the
system, how we grow as individuals. Mr. Parker was very clear in his
philosophies on the ranking system we use. Although initially skeptical, he came
to appreciate the benefits of a ranking order, and how it empowers the
individual with a sense of development. This seems particularly important for
our younger students, who may need more tangible rewards for their efforts than
adults. Paradoxically, I've seen less of the detrimental effects of rank in kids
than with adults...
I believe it becomes our responsibility as instructors to imbue a
sense of humility in our students through example and training. This is a very
tricky thing to do, since we're dealing with the infinite possibilities of the
human psyche. One may respond to demonstration or mentoring, while another may
find more resonance in self-discovery. It becomes clearer and clearer to me over
the years that what we practice is an art. And to perfect an art; to teach an
art; to become an artist...is a difficult road.
I am a musician. I studied acting for many years. I try to carry
some of the knowledge I've gained in those pursuits into my martial arts
training. As a young actor, I was told I had a natural ability, a “gift”, to
suspend reality to a degree, and present true emotional behaviors in imaginary
circumstances. I didn't know what gave me this ability, why others may have had
less of it -- but I wanted to explore it further. I began to actively study the
art of acting.
For a short time, my natural instincts did well by me. Yet, the
more knowledge I gained, the less sure of myself I became. My performances
became stiff, my mind suffocating my instinct. A little knowledge is a dangerous
thing...It took a while before I could apply what I was learning into my
instinctual behavior. One exercise in particular was very helpful in my
training. At its most basic level: One person may make an observation about the
other's behavior (“you seem tense”), the other must respond using the same
words, in first person (“I seem tense”). These are repeating back and forth
until one's behavior causes a spontaneous change in the words (“you seem
really mad right now”). That phrase is then repeated. The purpose of the
exercise is to place your attention completely outside of yourself, allowing
your natural emotional response to be uncolored and true. Later, certain
activities are added, along with time constraints, which further distract the
mind from the emotion. I've seen amazing breakthroughs using this technique.
Nothing is forced -- An individual's behavior is determined by the behavior of
another, and a different kind of sensitivity and self-awareness develops. You
begin to know the tools at your disposal, and are able to use them
spontaneously.
The brilliant aspect of Kenpo, to my mind, is its inherent
adaptability. As in the art of acting, it takes time to develop one's abilities
beyond a natural gift, and longer still to reach a level of subconscious
spontaneity. What I've been focusing on here are the mind and body. By
separating the two, we can experience them individually -- and come to know
their interconnection. The mind is the storehouse of information and knowledge.
It holds the answers; the responses; the “what-ifs”, and formulations. From
our mind, we have awareness, not only of our environment, but also of ourselves
as thinking individuals. “I think, therefore I am. ” The body is a warehouse
of emotion, holding muscle and bone, the easily accessible anger, fear, sadness,
joy, pain, pleasure, and millions of sensitive nerves. Where mind and body meet
and meld is just as vast: Muscle memory; conditioned response (physical and
emotional); emotional responses to memory itself; meditation's ability to affect
physical response and change; instinctual response and reaction; visualization,
and hundreds of other examples.
Of course, mind and body don't complete the equation. There is
another powerful element to wrap our minds around...
The concept of “spirit” can be difficult to grasp. Myriad
religious beliefs and individual definitions further complicate the issue. At
the root of most beliefs, though, is the holding that there exists a life force,
an energy, in the universe to which we are deeply connected. As martial arts
instructors, we speak of the unity of mind, body, and spirit; that physical
fatigue is illusory. We tell our students to “dig deep” for the drive and
energy they need -- It will be there. This is a connection to spirit. It is, in
my mind, what comprises our very essence; an endless reservoir in, on, and
around us. It is the definition of our environment, and we should be aware of
it. If it is our essence, and we are aware of it, it can be said that spirit
itself has consciousness and self-awareness. Although we won't go down that road
now, suffice it to say that knowledge of “spirit” can aid us in our studies
and as teachers. How we communicate this aspect of our training, though, needs
careful thought.
We begin and end our classes, katas, and sets with the
traditional moment of meditation. When I teach an introductory lesson, I explain
that this is time for each of us to center ourselves in whatever personal manner
is most effective. Some may use the time to focus on relaxing their body, or
releasing distractions from their mind. Others may just close their eyes and
take deep breaths, the mind engaged to varying degrees...
One goal of meditation is the release of ego, the self-awareness
of one's own personality. Through focus on breath, mantra, inner visualization,
or other element, a higher level of consciousness can be attained. Like in the
acting exercise I mentioned earlier, the redirection of, not the loss of, one
type of awareness allows us to gain another. Or maybe we should consider it a
heightening, or new plateau in our growth as humans, much the same as we
experience with our Kenpo training and techniques.
As a songwriter and musician, I've often struggled with my
connection to the “muse”. It's mysterious to me how my songs come to be, for
I can't always claim responsibility. I think it was Keith Richards who said that
songs come through him; they exist in their entirety, and he just acts as a
conduit for them to become solid. As a guitar player, I've experienced moments
in live performances that seemed to transcend my technical knowledge of the
instrument, that were “inspired”. A key to these moments seems to be a
relaxation and a kind of surrender that allows the performance (or song, or
acting scene, or Kenpo technique) to take place. It's an attempt to elevate the
consciousness during a state of activity. We should emphasize, though, that a
structure needs to be in place. The soil needs to be fertile. In acting, my
emotional life and reservoir of experience need to run deep. In musical
pursuits, I need to have some knowledge of the scales, notes, or chords to play.
I need to give my higher consciousness the tools to execute the demands of my
mind. The same applies to our Kenpo training. All of our techniques, basics,
katas, and freestyle need to become as ingrained as our breath. With repetition
and conscientious execution, we give our students and ourselves the luxury of
choice in thought and action. Through the tiger, we see the dragon.
When testing for my 3rd degree brown
belt, my thesis paper dealt with the actual and potential struggle of a student
of Ed Parker's Kenpo reconciling the pursuit of a spiritually enlightened path
with the participation in an inherently brutal, potentially deadly martial art.
I've seen students of various styles, including Kenpo, who carry a prideful
arrogance that negates the chance for a deeper growth. These are students we
need to reach: Those who feel the power of the tiger is the primary goal. To
these students, true humility can be an intangible, misunderstood goal. If they
have talent, they're often rewarded for physical prowess, and they can progress
far in a system not cautious.
Example and mentoring have always been very powerful learning
tools in my time in Kenpo. In any organization, attitude and energy funnel from
the top like a pyramid. The top of our pyramid in West L.A., California, is Mr.
Bryan Hawkins, who has been for me a friend and mentor for a decade now. Our
school is a direct reflection of his attention to the details of his students'
growth in all areas. It is the elusive quality of humility…the uncommon
perspective that sees a larger picture we all strive to see. And I'm grateful to
Mr. Hawkins for his vision.
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