Fighting, and the Fighting Arts

Michael J. Rosenbaum was born on May 12, 1961 in Knoxville, Tennessee. He started his martial arts training at the age of five when his father instructed him in both Judo and Boxing. At the age of fifteen, he began studying Isshin Ryu Karate and by the time of his seventeenth birthday he had been introduced to the Burmese fighting art of Bando. At the age of eighteen Michael enlisted in the U.S. Army.

He went through infantry school, airborne school, jungle warfare school, and was a member of the elite 82nd Airborne division, where he put his extensive knowledge to good use, having been awarded the Army Commendation Medal, several citations for a job well done and the Distinguished Trooper Award by the Commander of the 82nd Airborne Division himself.

Seeking to advance his knowledge of the Burmese fighting arts, Rosenbaum, in 1990, began studying with Allan Thompson and Edward Francisco, both of whom were students of the late Bando pioneer Bob Hill. Thompson was also the founder of the Tiger Hand/Tiger fist fighting system.

Two years later, with much encouragement from Francisco and Thompson, Rosenbaum went on to found the Snow Leopard Boxing/Tiger Fist system. Michael has conducted numerous self-defense and rape prevention courses as well as having been a body guard, bouncer and instructor of law enforcement personnel. He has written several books on the martial arts, including Kata and the Transmission of Knowledge: In Traditional Martial Arts and The Fighting Arts.

In The Fighting Arts, Mr. Rosenbaum discusses the evolution of the study of violence from non-specific combat practices to highly stylized and ritualized forms of training. In his own words the introduction to the book "examines the seeds from which our fighting arts were grown and points out that they are not an entity apart from us, but instead are of us."


Introduction
Page xix

Under heaven all can see beauty as beauty only because there is ugliness. All can known good as good only because there is evil.

- Tao Te Ching 

"At some point in man's evolution, his primal rage compelled him to climb down out of the trees, pick up stones, and take a stand against the animals that had been hunting him for so long. From this rage the art of fighting was born. This inner rage of our ancestors would become the foundation from which many classical and contemporary martial arts styles and systems were built upon. Sir Richard Burton once stated, "The history of the sword is the history of humanity." To expand on Burton's statement, we can say that to study the art of fighting is to study a strand of humanity itself because our survival as a species has at times depended upon our fighting prowess. For some this ideal may seem almost alien in nature while others may view it as repulsive. But, as Will Durant said about our suppressed primal rage in the modern world, "Every vice was once a virtue, necessary in the struggle for existence; it became a vice only when it survived the conditions that made it indispensable." In today's society, fighting is considered a vice by many, and its impact on the history of mankind is to a large degree downplayed by our present culture, which views fighting for the most part as politically incorrect. This view holds true even in the martial arts world where many practitioners consider the act of fighting secondary to their studies, overlooking the fact that all systems have a pugilistic past fueled by our own primal rage. It is an omission that can often hinder the practitioner's development.

In order to practice a fighting art we each have to face our primal rage or at the least acknowledge its presence. Ehrenreich observed, "If violence was, almost from the beginning, the means of human survival, then, according to some advocates of the hunting hypothesis, it must be bred into our genes-an evolutionary version of 'original sin'." (p. 37). Ehrenreich's statement points out that we each have our breaking point, a time when this rage or "original sin" will consume us and harm those whom we focus it on. In order to understand this inner force, its presence cannot be ignored. As ironic as it may seem, the fighting arts that were born out of our primal rage can also aid us in controlling it. It is at this level, fighting is viewed as a last resort.

When a practitioner evolves to this level of studying a fighting art, they begin focusing their energies inward away from the external and more toward the internal realm of things. By doing this they can come to understand those emotions that contribute to our rage and enhance its fury. Shi Ming whose extraordinary powers were featured in the Bill Moyer's 1993 Public Television Special Healing and the Mind stated once, "The aim of pugilism in the martial arts is seeking the Tao" (Shi Ming p. 99). His statement brings to light that at advanced levels of study the art of fighting can become a means to fortify the human spirit by strengthening weaknesses through training.

To study the art of fighting is to examine not only our primal rage, but also our best and yet worst traits, such as fear, courage, hate, respect, and even compassion. History has given us many examples of warriors displaying uncommon valor in the face of certain death. For examples, consider the many duels of Miyamoto Musashi or Pickett's charge at Gettysburg. The history of the art of fighting has shown how, in one instance, a warrior will strike down their foe yet in the next instance will show respect and compassion to a fallen opponent. Both Keegan and Amberger speak of this phenomenon. Keegan states in his scholarly work, The Face of Battle, that "the study of battle is therefore always a study of fear and courage." (See p. 303). Amberger in his book, The Secret History of the Sword also gives an example of our best yet worst traits by describing in detail the 1896 duel between Leonardo F. Terrone and Guido Flauto. The duel was fought because of an insult to Terrone's honor, and it ended when Flauto received a severe cut to his face. After the duel, Flauto and Terrone shook hands out of mutual respect for one another. Later during the 1900 International Fencing Tournament, Flauto expressed to all present his immense respect of Terrone for having fought the duel (Amberger pp. 159-160). These best, yet worst, traits of mankind are still exhibited today in our own study of the art of fighting. One example is those practitioners who perform a bow or execute a salutation at the beginning of a kata or sparring session. This is a ritualized way of showing respect to an opponent. In many cases, the ritual is considered just as important, if not more so, than the techniques used within the form or kata.

The art of fighting begins in each and every one of us as a shapeless, formless entity, until we give it form by expressing it in an action, such as a punch or kick.

It evolves into a system when these physical manifestations, become organized by an individual, or a group of people into a standardized method of training. The reader should bear in mind that there is a difference between the barroom brawler's approach to fighting (as effective as it may be) and that of the trained fighter. The trained fighter's style or system allows him to execute conditioned responses and standardized techniques in a consistent manner. By comparison, the barroom fighter's approach has no such standardization in execution of techniques.

To truly understand the art of fighting and how it becomes systematized by people and their cultures, let's illustrate with a big bucket of water. The content of this bucket represents the source from which all styles and systems come. Now let us pour the source into smaller buckets. These buckets represent different cultures and their interpretations of the art of fighting. Now let us take one of these smaller buckets and pour its contents into several glasses. These glasses represent the different systems that make up a culture's fighting art. For example, Japan has several major systems that make up the culture's fighting arts, such as karate-do, judo, aikido, kendo, etc. Now let us pick up one of the glasses and pour the contents into small cups. These cups will represent the different styles that make up a system such as shoto-kan, shito-ryu, isshin-ryu, and many others. We will take one of the cups and pour the content into shot glasses. These shot glasses will represent the individual techniques that are found within the style. It is at this level that the art of fighting both begins and ends. It begins with a single punch, kick, or throw, and becomes a system because of mankind's tendency to organize these techniques into systems and styles. However, for a system or style to exist, it has to have these basic techniques-which have been used by mankind for many years to physically express the art of fighting. This is an evolutionary cycle that makes the art of fighting literally a living breathing entity, one that is constantly changing and evolving as a result of mankind's analytical and creative skills. Dr. Yang Jwing-Ming stated that, "the arts are alive and are creative." (The Essence of Shaolin White Crane p. 24). And they are! Today's contemporary systems and styles have evolved from those past but, more than likely, their appearance and execution are in many ways different that those of their ancestors. 

From a purely combative standpoint, to study the art of fighting is to also understand an evolutionary process that concerns not only the practitioner, but also the art of fighting. Mankind is always seeking better techniques, weapons, and tactics to defend his self. This quest for advancement forces the art of fighting to constantly evolve and devolve. It is not a linear progression as many of today's practitioners would like for us to believe (Amberger p. 2). When technology is present, it is used to develop more effective weapons, but when technology is not present, then mankind develops his natural abilities to a high degree (Draeger and Smith p. 58). The Japanese samurai are an example of the evolutionary portion of this cycle. Their traditional martial arts, the bujutsu (not to be confused with martial ways, budo), had developed to very high levels through centuries of warfare. However, within sixteen years after Commodore Perry's visit to their country and the Japanese's first-hand observation of the Western ways of war, the samurai sword was replaced by the rifle and the spear by the cannon as the soldier's primary weapons (Harries pp. 3-22). This evolution caused many of the traditional bujutsu forms to take on secondary roles in warfare, even though the samurai sword was still worn by officers for years to come. This was the devolution cycle of classical Japanese systems however their evolutionary cycle can be seen again with modern day law enforcement agencies (Draeger, Modern Budo Bujutsu pp. 68-76). Although many law enforcement officers carry firearms, they cannot always use them to arrest suspects because of their lethal nature; so they are trained in empty-handed methods of fighting. Techniques that in some cases were developed by the samurai hundred of years ago and are now frequently used by the police while arresting suspects.

In America, our own study of the art of fighting has been greatly influenced by the meeting of Asian and European systems. It is a meeting that, at times, makes us seem almost at a loss in trying to understand these two cultures' approaches to fighting and how they fit within our culture. In situations such as ours, people can embrace very ethnocentric views about the martial arts/art of fighting and by doing so become very engrossed in the concept of styles and systems.

The systemization of the art of fighting is important because it allows us to segment and practice various concepts and techniques; yet it is a process very much influenced by people's personalities. Since no two people are alike, no two systems will be exactly alike. It is the fighter who makes the fight and not the system. Miyamoto Musashi is a prime example of this. Musashi was a great swordsman, influenced by the culture and times in which he lived. However, his skill was achieved, not because of the sword or a particular style or system, but because he understood the art of fighting. As Musashi expressed it, "Then you will come to think of things in a wide sense and, taking the void as the Way, you will see the Way as void." (The Book of Five Rings p. 95). The art of fighting has to be understood from the wide sense that Musashi speaks of. It has to be seen with form or the Way and yet seen with formlessness, the Void. The art of fighting begins within us as the Void, and it becomes the Way when we give it form."

The use of violence is always influenced by culture, technology, and environment. But at a deeper level it comes from something within each of us. It comes from our natural animal desire to survive. It comes from that part of us that still remembers being chased through tall grass and between trees by animals red in tooth and claw. It comes from the same drive that led the first man to pick up a rock or a stick and turn it against his predators. The use of violence is natural and formless. But the study of violence and the codification of its applications comes from another place. Where violence comes from our animal natures, the systems and styles that we use to give it form come from the thinking man. They come from the same place as poetry, philosophy, and science. Where lashing out at a predator is instinct, punches and kicks are learned behavior.

The martial artist must learn to harness the animal within, and give it form through his capacity for creative thought and analysis. These are the two aspects of mankind, the animal and the thinker, and it is through embracing both that he becomes a truly formidable warrior.

Drills -

Beginner: Look within yourself. Take time during a calm, quiet part of your day to analyze your behaviors. Be honest. What makes you angry? How do you react to anger? How do you feel when you are angry? What do you do to calm yourself? When you are angry, stop and say to yourself, "I am angry. I am reacting with emotion." Seek to understand your own motivations and patterns and actively practice state management, or the practice of "moving from an emotional state to a rational state."

Intermediate: Study the patterns. Perform the techniques. With each repetition of each basic carefully practice proper form. Seek to understand the relationships between each of the movements, and the interaction between attacker and defender. Recognize the role that stance, angles, and position play in each movement and pursue constant improvement and perfection of execution.

Advanced: When fighting, bring the beast to the surface. Reach within yourself and awaken the animal part of your nature. Fight with emotion. Project your inner strength against your opponent through your eyes and your voice. Burn with passion and let it fuel your actions, but even in the midst of the fire never forget proper technique. It is the combination of both which gives you strength. Be strong.

Zazen, Satori, and the True Karate

Zen Master Suzuki Shunryū arrived in San Francisco in 1959, bringing with him his own approach to Zen Buddhism. As a Rōshi (literally "elder master") Suzuki Shunryū focused more on the practice of Zen then on the achievement of satori (enlightenment). It was his belief that the practitioner found his true self through the practice, through zazen, and not as a side effect of that practice. In the book Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind, a collection of his teachings compiled and edited by his disciples, he describes this process.


To Polish a Tile
Page 90

When you become you, Zen becomes Zen

When you are you, you see things as they are,

and you become one with your surroundings.

"Zen stories, or koans, are very difficult to understand before you know what we are doing moment after moment.  But if you know exactly what we are doing in each moment, you will not find koans so difficult. There are so many koans. I have often talked to you about a frog, and each time everybody laughs. But a frog is very interesting. He sits like us, too, you know. But he does not think that he is doing anything so special. When you go to a zendo [meditation hall] and sit, you may think you are doing some special thing. While your husband or wife is sleeping, you are practicing zazen! You are doing some special thing, and your spouse is lazy! That may be your understanding of zazen. But look at the frog. A frog also sits like us, but has no idea of zazen. Watch him. If something annoys him, he will make a face. If something comes along to eat, he will snap it up and eat, and he eats sitting. Actually that is our zazen- not any special thing.

Here is a kind of frog koan for you. Baso was a famous Zen master called the Horse-master. He was the disciple of Nangaku, one of the Sixth Patriarch's disciples. One day while he was studying under Nangaku, Baso was sitting, practicing zazen. He was a man of large physical build; when he talked, his tongue reached to his nose, his voice was loud; and his zazen must have been very good. Nangaku saw him sitting like a great mountain or like a frog. Nangaku asked, "What are you doing?" "I am practicing zazen," Baso replied. "Why are you practicing zazen?" "I want to attain enlightenment; I want to be a Buddha," the disciple said. Do you know what the teacher did? He picked up a tile, and he started to polish it. In Japan, after taking a tile from the kiln, we polish it to give it a beautiful finish. So Nangaku picked up a tile and started to polish it. Baso, his disciple, asked, "What are you doing?" "I want to make this tile into a jewel," Nanagaku said. "How is it possible to make a tile a jewel?" Baso asked. "How is it possible to become a Buddha by practicing zazen?" Nangaku replied. "Do you want to attain Buddhahood? There is no Buddhahood besides our ordinary mind. When a cart does not go, which do you whip, the cart or the horse?" the master asked.

Nangaku's meaning here is that whatever you do, that is zazen. True zazen is beyond being in bed or sitting in the zendo. If your husband or wife is in bed, that is zazen. If you think, "I am sitting here, and my spouse is in bed," then even though you are sitting here in the cross-legged position, that is not true zazen. You should be like a frog always. That is true zazen.

Dogen-zenji commented on this koan. He said, "When the Horse-master becomes the Horse-master, Zen becomes Zen." When Baso becomes Baso, his zazen becomes true zazen, and Zen becomes Zen. What is true zazen? When you become you! When you are you, then no matter what you do, that is zazen. Even though you are sitting in the zendo, I wonder whether you are you in the true sense.

Here is another famous koan. Zuikan was a Zen master who always used to address himself, "Zuikan?" he would call. And then he would answer, "Yes!" "Zuikan?" "Yes!" Of course he was living all alone in his small zendo, and of course he knew who he was, but sometimes he lost himself. And whenever he lost himself, he would address himself, "Zuikan?" "Yes!"

If we are like a frog, we are always ourselves. But even a frog sometimes loses himself, and he makes a sour face. And if something comes along, he will snap at it and eat it. So I think a frog is always addressing himself. I think you should do that also. Even in zazen you will lose yourself. When you become sleepy, or when your mind starts to wander about, you lose yourself. When your legs become painful- "Why are my legs so painful?" -you lose yourself. Because you lose yourself, your problem will be a problem for you. If you do not lose yourself, then even though you have difficulty, there is actually no problem whatsoever. You just sit in the midst of the problem; when you are a part of the problem, or when the problem is a part of you, there is no problem, because you are the problem itself. The problem is you yourself. If this is so, there is no problem.

When your life is always a part of your surrounding-in other words, when you are called back to yourself, in the present moment-then there is no problem. When you start to wander about in some delusion which is something apart from you yourself, then your surroundings are not real anymore, and your mind is not real anymore. If you yourself are deluded, then your surroundings area also a misty, foggy delusion. Once you are in the midst of delusion, there is no end to delusion. You will be involved in deluded ideas one after another. Most people live in delusion, involved in their problem, trying to solve their problem. But just to live is actually to live in problems. And to solve the problem is to be a part of it, to be one with it.

So which do you hit, the cart or the horse? Which do you hit, yourself or your problems? If you start questioning which you should hit, that means you have already started to wander about. But when you actually hit the horse, the cart will go. In truth, the cart and the horse are not different. When you are you, there is no problem of whether you should hit the cart or the horse. When you are you, zazen becomes true zazen. So when you practice zazen, your problem will practice zazen, and everything else will practice zazen too. Even though your spouse is in bed, he or she is also practicing zazen-when you practice zazen! But when you do not practice true zazen, then there is your spouse, and there is yourself, each quite different, quite separate from the other. So if you yourself have true practice, then everything else is practicing our way at the same time.

That is why we should always address ourselves, checking up on ourselves like a doctor tapping himself. This is very important. This kind of practice should be continued moment after moment, incessantly. We say, "When the night is here, the dawn comes." It means there is no gap between the dawn and the night. Before the summer is over, autumn comes. In this way we should understand our life. We should practice with this understanding, and solve our problems in this way. Actually, just to work on the problem, if you do it with single-minded effort, is enough. You should just polish the tile; that is our practice. The purpose of practice is not to make a tile a jewel. Just continue sitting; that is practice in its true sense. It is not a matter of whether or not it is possible to attain Buddhahood, whether or not is possible to make a tile a jewel. Just to work and live in this world with this understanding is the most important point. That is our practice that is true zazen. So we say, "When you eat, eat!" You should eat what is there, you know. Sometimes you do not eat it. Even though you are eating, your mind is somewhere else. You do not taste what you have in your mouth. As long as you can eat when you are eating, you are all right. Do not worry a bit. It means you are you yourself.

When you are you, you see things ass they are, and you become one with your surroundings. There is your true self. There you have true practice; you have the practice of a frog. He is a good example of our practice-when a frog becomes a frog, Zen becomes Zen. When you understand a frog through and through, you attain enlightenment; you are Buddha. And you are good for others, too: husband or wife or son or daughter. This is zazen!"

The practitioner of the martial Way should not concern himself with the external trappings of rank or praise or acclimation. He should not be distracted with goals such as performance or Mastery. Just continue sitting. Just continue training. Just continue working. The practice is not separate from the practitioner. You are not working on your Form or your Technique. You are working on YOU. Do not be concerned with whether or not the tile will become a jewel. Simply keep polishing. When you make the practice indistinguishable from yourself, when the art is not separate from the artist, then zazen becomes true zazen and satori is not a goal but a state of being.

Every part of your training, basics, techniques, sets, forms, static training, live training, sparring, bag work, every part is part of the whole. It is the practice. And the practice is the goal. There are no endings on the Way. The journey is the destination. When you understand the frog, karate is not a thing you do. It is a thing you are.

Drills - 

Beginner: Practice your stances. Practice each stance, as a static position, with proper height, width, depth, and weight distribution. The stances are not separate from your ability to move or strike, they are the foundation of your ability to move and strike. Learn each stance as it's own unique entity, and practice them until they become a part of you.

Intermediate: Practice your strikes. Punches, handswords, hammerfists, front kicks, stomps, knee strikes, and headbutts. Practice the unique aspects and methods of execution specific to each individual strike. Practice striking from every position, standing, kneeling, and prone, against every possible configuration of opponents. Learn how each strike is affected by stance, and how every move leads naturally into the next.

Advanced: Practice your karate. Every stance, every movement, every combination, every pattern. Practice in the air, practice on the body. Hit the pads, hit the shields, hit the bag. Practice the movements you have known for decades and the movements that are new to you. Practice with utmost seriousness. Remember the words of the Master. "Any man who wants to master the essence of my strategy must research diligently, training morning and evening. Thus can he polish his skill, become free from self, and realise extrordinary ability. He will come to possess miraculous power." Practice every day, all of your life, and your karate will become the true karate.

Why Study Karate?

"Do your best as long as you can. You won't be disappointed." 

- Master Ron Chapél

Why does anyone study karate anymore? In this modern age, with modern challenges and modern weapons, what value can there be in training in an ancient form of unarmed combat? What value is there, in a world of guns, in training in the techniques of the warriors of a world of swords and axes? Why would a modern man or woman spend their time practicing and perfecting a skillset that some think was rendered obsolete hundreds of years ago?

The answer is not simple, and it is not singular. For some, karate is a tool for self protection, like a can of mace or a home security system. You learn enough to defend yourself in a violent encounter with a predator, and then you are done with it. Like learning how to change a tire on a car or program a video cassette recorder, karate is nothing more than a basic skill that they acquire. They aren't going to become mechanics or engineers, but they know how to kick someone in the groin, and run and scream for help. And that is why they learned some karate.

For others, it is a sport. Karate players compete for victory or awards and compare their performances of different kata and engage in block and strike point fighting and the purpose is to “win.” Winning is important, not because it reflects the possible outcome in a real combat environment, but simply for its own sake. Because winning is the “goal.” They learn karate, and practice karate, so that they can continue to compete at a high level with other people who learn karate and practice karate for the same reason.

There is a third group of people for whom karate is a social experience. It is like belonging to a club and they can hang out with a group of people who all share a similar hobby, and they can discuss their separate opinions on the focal subject. They show up to class early and they hang out afterwords and during training time they talk about their lives and the things that are on their minds. They train so that they can train with others, and they advance with their friends who do karate because they do it all together.

Some people view karate as a spiritual practice. They ritualize the physical training, and focus on the mental discipline and meditative practices of their arts. In some less common cases they may even include elements of ancestor worship and “enshrine” former Masters for either tributary or religious purposes. The pursuit of technical perfection is not for the purpose of application, but because the pursuit itself is a form of spiritual cleansing and improvement. Karate is a path to enlightenment, and the practice is a vehicle for transcendence.

For some, karate is a hobby. Like collecting butterflies or building model airplanes, karate is for the hobbyist a strange mix of escapism and obsession. As an avocation karate is a leisure activity for these students. They enjoy the physicality of the practice, the aesthetic trappings of the art, and the traditions and culture of the karate school. They come to class and train outside the school because it is something fun to do in their free time.

Then there are others who do karate for fitness. Maybe they don't find running stimulating or they don't have the equipment for weight lifting. Maybe they find that after they left school, it was more and more difficult to find time in their day to engage in pure physical activity. For whatever reason, instead of joining an athletic club or a gym they chose to join a karate school. They practice to get their sweat up, they train to build and tone muscle, and they supplement their karate liberally with calisthenics and aerobic exercise. They train to stay healthy and get stronger, and they keep training to maintain their fitness level.

Some do karate for the discipline. Often, when they bring their children to karate schools, one of the most important things parents are looking for is for their child to “learn discipline.” Committing to the rigorous and repetitive training necessary to succeed in karate requires the practitioner to focus his mind and return again and again to the hard work of actually doing it, despite the challenge and because of the task. They practice because the act of training the body is a method by which they learn to strengthen their will.

Finally, there are those who turn the practice of training in karate into a Way. For them, it is more than any one thing, there is more than one motivation and more than any one goal. Karate isn't just hobby, or mental practice, or athletic activity, or physical performance. Karate is a path, leading throughout one's life. It guides and informs the practitioner, not only in the ways of violence, but more importantly in a method to achieve success in all things. The “secret” to karate is that hard work and dedication are rewarded with accomplishment. The lessons of karate; establish a solid base, stay fluid and be ready to adapt, avoid conflict and be judicious in your use of strength, all apply to more than just fighting. The mental and physical discipline leads to a long and healthy life. The focus on constant and unending improvement drives the practitioner to do more, to be better, in every facet of his life. Karate is not just “a thing to do when you aren't doing anything else.” Karate becomes the thing you are always doing. The thing that everything else is influenced by. Karate becomes everything, at all times, because the practitioner realizes the great lesson of the practice.

You will never understand all of karate. It will take all of your life to learn it, and even if you could live ten thousand years you could not know every part of it. We do not train in karate to Master it. We train in karate to master ourselves. Because ultimately, all of us will only ever train for a short time in a small way. If you train your whole life your motivations will probably change and evolve over time, but whether you train for fitness, or as a hobby, or because you revere the old Masters your training will always improve you. It will always make you stronger, and healthier, and more capable. In the end, we train in karate because it makes us better. 

Every step down the Way of the martial arts is a step forward. And because the Way has no end, there is no limit to how far you can go.

Drills -

Beginner: Practice your karate with an aim towards improving your physical performance. Get faster. Improve your flexibility. Develop your core strength. The more you improve your health and fitness, the more karate you will be able to do. As each of us age, our bodies will begin to corrupt and fail. Work on developing your physical abilities now, and you will live longer and more fully.

Intermediate: Develop your mental discipline. Practice your patterns again and again. Focus on perfecting the movements. Train through the exhaustion and pain. Train until you want to give up, and then force yourself to confront the frustration and the fear and then overcome it. Discipline your body and you will discipline your mind.

Advanced: Apply the lessons of karate to your life outside of the studio. When you are confronted with adversity, practice perseverance. When you are confronted with aggression, step off the line of attack. When you are weak, appear strong. You are not only learning about kicking and punching. If you choose, you are learning about life.