How to Survive a Maniac!
Let me start out with snippets from a win!
Hi Al, I hope this e-mail finds you well. Was looking thru e-mails and enjoyed your last one very much (re: working out leading to the ‘blue bolt’ of knowing vs. simply slowly gaining knowledge of oneself that’ll do as well 🙂
I wanted to tell you that our relatively limited time working out together has led me to several ‘bolts’ of my own; some of them gentle (I can defend myself and confront evil), some of them dramatic (I will live forever. Oh Crap, now I have to take responsibility for my actions!)
Anyway, thanks for helping me remember things I already knew from before this lifetime (simple?) yes. Powerful? Very! Blasphemous? Hardly.
My enjoyment of the martial arts has increased exponentially with the expansion of my knowledge and awareness of them (Thank you)
This has led to my recent increase in enjoyment of so many other arts, aesthetics, and pleasures across so many dynamics. Music ties into Painting, which leads to the appreciation of some stranger’s physical beauty, the sound of my child’s voice conveying profound questions, even answers, the feel of mist from a mountain stream on a hot day. Sometimes it’s all so beautiful I think I could weep for joy! Somehow the stupidity of our social and political climates seem further from reality, and, without the response of fear and panic, easier to confront.
sincerely Rick Mooney
I’ll be calling you,
talk to you then.
this is quite a win,
and it makes me fell PFG.
Sort of appropriate,
as I am finally starting to get Monkeyland back up,
and the point is this…
as you well know,
the martial arts is about more than fighting.
A LOT more.
It is one of the four paths of enlightenment,
and to treat it as merely punch and kick knock people down
is more than a shame.
Life is passing before your eyes,
and you have to grab it
and shape it as you will.
You ARE the sculptor,
and life IS your creation.
So thanks Rick,
I know your words will touch somebody somewhere,
and the eyes will open.
thought I’d tell you a story about living
in the face of death.
I was studying kenpo
I was nineteen years old,
and didn’t have a clue.
Not a Fg clue.
So one day I called up my best friend (Alex),
got his brother on the line,
and he happened to be a Hell’s Angel (T).
Now this was before I went to the Kang Duk Won,
this was before I worked out with bikers
and I was in awe.
And during the course of our conversation
I mentioned I was coming over to see Alex,
maybe I’d bring a bottle with me.
End of conversation.
The next day I went to visit Alex,
and he was in the back of the house
in his brothers (the Hell’s Angel) room.
So T asks me if I have ever seen his gun collection.
I say no.
He opens up the closet
and there are over three hundred guns.
They are jammed in there,
pistols and fully automatics,
military assault rifles,
as I recall,
he even had a grenade launcher.
I had never even touched a gun,
and he hands me some big sucker
“Is it loaded?”
“All my guns are loaded all of the time.
You never know when you’re going to have to shoot somebody.”
I ask him,
“Have you ever shot somebody?”
“I shot a guy trying to repo my car last week.
Got him in the shoulder.
“What did the police say?”
“He was on my property,
stealing my car,
what could they say?”
He takes the big gun back,
turns around and sits in the closet.
Alex is somewhere else,
a look crosses over his face,
the room gets really cold,
and he says,
“Where’s that bottle?”
The look on his face,
the aloneness in the room,
I suddenly realize that I am facing a maniac
who is sitting in the middle of over 300 fully armed weapons,
and who has just been talking about killing people.
And the look in his eyes is DEAD serious.
I am suddenly a fly with a pin sticking into the middle of my back.
I am fixed in place,
no way to move,
nothing to do.
My friendly neighborhood Hell’s Angel
has suddenly gone from happy go lucky
to kill crazy.
He knows I don’t have a bottle
and he is pissed.
A rifle is across his lap,
and he has a gun in each hand.
So I did what prey do
when they are confronted by overpowering force.
Carefully, I said,
“I didn’t bring it.”
I was speaking slowly,
every word a potential to mayhem,
every word being offered in the safest manner possible.
I knew there was more danger of him jumping up
and beating the crap out of me,
than of him shooting me.
shoot or beat,
I was never closer to being dead meat
in my life.
He began to lecture me
on never breaking your word,
a man is only as good as his word,
I should never break my word.
I didn’t say a thing,
I didn’t point out that my offer to bring a bottle was a maybe,
I just took my lecture
and knew that as long as he was talking
he wasn’t killing me.
Alex came back in the room,
picked up on the smell of potential violence and death.
we’re just talking,”
T started polishing a rifle with a rag
and looked away from me.
As soon as I could safely do so,
I carefully mentioned that I had business elsewhere,
I’ve had violent encounters,
I’ve had people point guns at me,
but that was the closest I’ve ever come to dead,
and possibly the most educational.
The idea of freezing in place as a viable self defense technique,
even though it was a mark of my helplessness,
actually grew into some of my neutronic meanderings.
when I was studying at the Kang Duk Won,
I worked out with Hell’s Angels and other bikers,
even went to a couple of parties,
but I never let my guard down around them after that,
I always remembered that they were a half grin away from psychotic.
funny and engaging,
I guess the point of it all,
of all the bikers that I worked with at the Kang Duk Won
none of them ever made it to Black Belt.
None of them ever was virtuous enough
to get the bolt from the blue,
to make that statement of self
that is the mature soul of a real martial artist.
many years later I did make black belt,
and a fellow visited the school.
His name was Ted
and he was a second black.
He had stopped studying
and become a Hell’s Angel.
And he wanted to work out.
I was the only black belt there,
and we went to freestyle.
In that few minutes
I faced a fear of hells angels
and faced a psychotic human being.
and I can honestly say that he threw punches harder
than anybody I had ever freestyled with.
He came straight in,
and it was like facing a raging tiger.
I faced him,
I blocked everything,
and I hit him.
certainly not as hard as the punches I was blocking.
But the training I had received had changed me,
no longer the not a Fg clue kid,
but a man who could face psychotic human beings,
it goes without saying,
that I wish everybody in the world
could face down the nuts
and live a safe life.
let me plug the Kang Duk Won
This is the stuff that was taught to three different Imperial Palace Guards.
(Okinawa, Korea, Japan)
this is the stuff from before Funakoshi.
And it is different.
The Japanese college kids tended to change Karate,
make it violent for tournaments,
but the Kang Duk Won I learned
was much more pure.
Really became a journey of soul,
verses a how to fight primer.
I include it in the Evolution of an Art course.
Pan Gai Noon, Kang Duk Won and Kwon Bup.
Three complete arts,
including one of the most pure and original
styles of Karate
you’ll ever see.
Scores of forms,
hundreds of techniques,
a complete evolution of the art of Karate,
from Kung fu to America innovation.
Here’s the URL…
you guys and gals have a WINderful weekend,
work out lots,
because it is the route to your soul.