Life As I Play It

I’ve been studying martial arts for more than twenty years, and yet, I can’t find the words to articulate everything it’s done for me.  I’ve used it in every aspect of my life, and continue to do so. It’s the purest and most complete system I’ve ever encountered.

I’m not someone who bullshits or plays games with people, something that often gets me into trouble. Martial arts is the same way. You have no excuses. You’re either skilled or you’re not, and if you’re not, then it’s plainly your fault, and you know it. In the end, you’re the practitioner, and you decide how far you go.

I think the world works better when there are no excuses.

I also find martial arts incredibly addictive. You never stop learning or improving. At the same time, the more you learn, the deadlier you become. Knowing that you have the ability to take a life with your bare hands is both intoxicating and humbling. And yet, knowing this, you ask yourself every time you raise your hands, and you bring that deadly power to bear; is this worth it?

To me, this is why the emotional impact of martial arts is far greater than the physical one; we do not train to fight, we train to reign in our emotions and diffuse situations in which we might become violent. We do this because violence is a last resort; if we must become violent, someone could quickly be crippled or worse.

In one fluent motion, you exhale. You thrust your right arm forward. At the last second, you tighten your hand into a fist, shifting your right hip into the blow for extra power. You crash your fist upwards into someone’s ribs. The ribs give beneath your blow, splintering upwards. The lungs and heart are shredded. The person dies painfully, slowly, at your feet.

Or you can just walk away.

And yet, the only way to test ourselves is by challenging each other. This is what I’ve always enjoyed the most of.

I have a couple of good friends in the area that I can do this with. Every so often, we get together, and we fight.

There’s a huge amount of trust involved, yet another reason why I gravitate towards the martial arts; I do not trust easy. Sparring requires a tremendous amount of control and trust, knowing that your ‘opponent’ is as skilled as you are, but will not lose their temper and elevate it to bloodlust if you get a lucky strike in. Sparring requires more trust than almost anything else I’ve ever done.

Getting tagged (hit) means that your defense is not good enough, and it gives you something to work on. If you are taken down easily, then your center of balance is off. If blocking his/her moves begins to wear you down, you should shift to dodging rather than blocking until you can condition your arms (kickboxing is good for that). Always something new to learn, and I enjoy that too.

There is a style for every occasion. If you want to learn how to defend yourself non-violently, there’s judo and aikido, which specialize in throwing your opponent off balance without doing too much damage. If you want to learn flexibility, grace, and offense, tae kwon do is for you. If you want to learn all of these, plus rhythm and dance, look into Capoeira. If you want to learn to regulate your breathing and gain better control over your body, Tai Chi and Kung Fu are for you. I have found that Chinese styles are better for mental and spiritual development (although styles like Tai Chi Chuan are both beautiful and offensive) while Japanese and Thai styles are more suited for people who want to learn straight out fighting.

What I take form the martial arts is a way to keep my type two in check. It gives me a constructive way to deal with rage. It allows me to feed my creative side (anyone read Universal Warrior yet? Shameless plug inserted). It allows me to see people a little differently (body language is everything) and it gives me something I can never stop learning.

Every time I thought I learned all there was to know about a style, I found a new level. I’ll never keep getting stronger, and there is no limit to how far I can take my skills.

This excites me. This is why I’d rather be fighting.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Modern Magic Enterprises LTD and Nomadic Productions LLC

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These are some of the questions I’ve fielded about my former life;

“Why do it?”
“What do you get out of it?”
“Why did you do it for so long?”
“Why didn’t you do something else?”
“Why did you do something so violent?”

All these questions have come with a certain level of incredulousness and a look that questions my sanity. And I suppose, in hindsight, it would seem a little abnormal to do something so detrimental to one’s health for so long. I’ve never been able to articulate it myself, until now.

What does one gain from fighting?

We are a competitive people. We always have been, probably always will be. We compete instinctively, whether or not we’re even aware of it. It’s through competition that we weed out those who are not as good as others.

We reward competition, too; we give raises, better offices, better perks. We give medals, put them on TV, and make them stars. Like it or not, we are a society that rewards people for being the best.

Fighting, in this case, the act of two people physically beating upon one another until one falls, is competition at its purest. It is the very first method we used to determine who was better than the other; it was a contest of sheer strength that left no room for question. You either won or you lost.

Fighting in this era has so many meanings that it’s difficult to explain them all, so I’ll try to define the ones that make the most sense to me.

Fighting with someone is like being forced to look into a mirror. You can bullshit the entire world, but you’ll never bullshit the reflection. In the heat of a fight, when you can identify the parts of you that will hurt tomorrow, you learn who you really are. No illusions, no nothing. You either conquer that fear within you right then and there, or you let it overwhelm you. But either way, you face up to it.

It’s not for everyone.

As people, we have to put a lot of masks on in a given day (something I hope I never understand). Mostly, it comes down to pretending to like someone you’d really like to shove into a trash compactor. (For the record, I hate this, I’d rather just leave the person alone than put up an act).

Fighting strips away all the politics, all the drama. You know why you may end up being friends with someone after a fight, even if you were enemies before? Because you come away with a new respect for one another. Again, when you fight, you don’t just find out who you are, you find out who your opponent is. The best fights in my life were with people who plain and simply refused to back down. I had quite a few battles end where we just smiled, laughed, and just agreed to call it a day. I maintain some of those friendships to this day.

The best aspect of a fight is something I can only describe as transcendant. It just happens, and to me, honestly, it can be better than sex.
You leave rational thought behind. You stop planning your next move. Your senses heighten and you can feel every millisecond tick right by.You don’t know what you’re going to do next, but you have to trust that it is the right move for the occasion. This is where training kicks in; physical memory takes the place of rational thought and you quite literally live in the moment. In these moments, both combatants are capable of extremely devastating, yet simultaneously beautiful things.

Some people call it going with their gut. I actually took it a step further and applied my instincts to every day life. I’m still learning how to use logic and reason, but I have the sharpest instincts in the book. I can still glean a lot from people by looking into their eyes.

As with all things, there is a dark side to fighting, and I lived it for very long. Fighting is a great way to release anger. Nothing matches the sensation of connecting your knuckles to someone’s jaw and knocking them to the ground. It’s the most primal sense of dominance in the world, to physically knock someone to the ground. Even if it’s for a second, the next time they look at you, they’re scared. They wonder what will happen if they get up (but if they do, you better be ready for it. They won’t want to talk).

I no longer fight, but most of life’s lessons I learned from fighting. Now what I’m working on is the skill aspect; random sparring matches just to see how much better I’ve gotten. This is my last point; fighting allows you to see how much further you’ve progressed since your last encounter.

Like I said, it’s not for everyone, but it worked for me. Fighting is a chance to see both you and your opponent at their purest. It’s painful, brutal, potentially dangerous…and incredibly educational.

Attempt at your own risk.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Modern Magic Enterprises LTD and Nomadic Productions LLC

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I’ve been studying martial arts for over twenty years. I don’t think it’s fair to say that I am a martial artist. There’s nothing artful about what I do, or how I move. I see something, I react, normally in violence. Recently, I have learned not to react with the maximum amount of violence to every hostile situation, but I still have a long way to go.

Without going into too many details, yesterday, I got into a brief altercation. In hindsight, I was probably set up. Someone in my building stepped towards me from around the corner very unexpectedly, and I knocked him down. I was not looking for a fight; it was a reflex action to respond to a perceived threat with violence.

I could list the problems I’ve had with this guy before, but nothing changes the fact that I felt horrible about it. The man is forty years older than me.

So…that made me think.
I was always criticized by my various teachers for not having any form to my technique. I never saw a point to form, to be honest; form never got me anywhere in a fight. Also, I have never understood (nor tried to) the idea of learning to fight so you don’t have to fight. To me, that just doesn’t make any sense.

Isn’t that why we study? To defend ourselves, and those we love?
I learned how powerful techniques can become the more you practice them, and as such, I’ve learned to control myself in a fight, so I don’t do mortal damage to someone. I’ve always thought that it was awesome; to be able to hone your body into a lethal weapon, just as destructive as a bullet. Even more awesome is your ability to control your power, and use it to other achieve other means. My training plays a big role in keeping my blood sugar down.

I figured that once I learned to knock someone out, instead of shattering their jaw, I had a pretty good grasp on martial arts.

But I still have a long way to go, don’t I…?

I claim to want peace. Then again, I’d have no idea what to do with it.

If I’m not training to fight, then why am I training? And why do I still enjoy it so much?
What does this whole “training so you don’t have to fight” mean?

These are questions I seek answers to as I continue my training. Usually I work on speed and power. Today I slowed things down (not used to that at all), allowed my techniques to come slowly, and went through the forms I’d been taught. As I did this, I could feel the answers at the edge of my mind, trying to break in.

I know this ties into my future success, too; learning to approach the world peacefully instead of waiting for an adversary.

And so, as my training continues, I hope for peace and answers, praying I’ll be ready to accept it, knowing I won’t be aware when I do.

Thanks for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Modern Magic Enterprises LTD and Nomadic Productions LLC

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Four years ago, I was staying in an unlisted shelter in Saginaw, Michigan. Located in one of the city’s most dangerous neighborhoods, one would walk through a crime scene at least once per week, and Busterwolf had to be at his prime.

At the time, I was trying to raise enough money to leave Saginaw behind and head for Grand Rapids—where there were more jobs, more opportunities, and what I believed was the rest of my life. I wasn’t concerned about how I raised the money—I just wanted out.

And no one could outfight me.

The adventures in Saginaw were many, including a fight outside of a nightclub with two friends, one of whom was an adventurous, married woman, and a tournament that had been arranged just to see if Busterwolf was everything the legends said. Those invested in this tournament were so serious about seeing me fight that when I tried to back out, they conveyed their seriousness by firing a bullet at me.

Eventually, I was able to leave Saginaw, convincing myself that Busterwolf’s days were indeed behind him. When I arrived in Grand Rapids, I caved to the legend once again, and the real adventures began. They included two students (my first since my son) and the only man who put the fear of God in me, so much so that I could not beat him…

I realized a little back that I compiled all of these adventures into my very first blog, which goes all the way back to the days in Saginaw. Sometime this year, I’m going to compile and edit them, and then, if I can, self-publish them. I think they make a good read, and I changed most of the names…

The book will be entitled “The Road”. I’ll keep everyone posted as I put it together.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Modern Magic Enterprises LTD and Nomadic Productions LLC

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One can’t live in two worlds, I’m realizing. Eventually, you have to make a choice.

You also choose the friends that are worth fighting for.

I have two good friends; one of them enforces a system I don’t really believe in, yet we’re friends anyway. Another disagrees with the system as strongly as I do, but may have broken what is, in my opinion, an unbreakable law. I can’t prove if he did or didn’t; for a change, I did not blindly follow my first instinct, which would’ve led to violence. Instead, I thought things through.

While my law-enforcing friend became angry with me (for not doing the right thing), I stood against the world and desperately tried to convince my wayward friend to cease his involvement—any type of involvement—with an underage girl. In a few short weeks, he had gone from being in love with her to looking at her like a daughter. The thought of it made me want to vomit. How can you do this?! Who the hell are you and what have you done with my friend?!

I saw my friend and the underage girl together, physically flirting and whispering to one another when they thought nobody would notice. I convinced myself that it wasn’t what I knew it was.

Last week, I needed a ride to the career center. My wayward friend agreed to drive me. I had to be there at two; he showed up at a quarter till…with his underage friend in tow.

Millions of questions flooded my mind: Why was she there? Why wasn’t she in school? Why did she keep saying that they had just woke up?

I cut him off after that…for a minute. It’s the Christian thing to forgive, right? Ugh… Besides, it’s not like I was able to prove that he was doing anything illegal. Maybe he was just confused. Maybe someone is going to sell me the St. Louis Arch.

I cornered him, and demanded to know what was going on. I wondered if I was really fighting for him or just struggling to hold on to one of the first face-to-face friendships I’ve had in years.

He told me that he was dating the underage girl’s mother, and that he was spending time with her children in an attempt to get to know them better.

Avery: Thank God. That makes sense.
Busterwolf: You’re lying, and I know you’re lying, you sick f***.

I forgave him. We patched things up.

Yesterday, the girl’s mother happened to be at a friend’s house and I asked her, point blank, if she has been seeing Billy. She denied it. Of course.

I let my instincts guide me as she told me how she was sick of the rumor; she’s never done anything with Billy.

This means, the night we patched things up, someone I considered one of my closest friends lied to me yet again. He lied to me as he promised not to lie to me again.

Crushed, I realized the truth.

I headed home and tracked down my law-enforcing friend. We hadn’t spoken in awhile, and my message was simple: We need to talk.

When he showed up, he wasn’t in uniform, which was good: He would to talk to me as a friend, rather than as a cop. He was cordial as he entered my home and shook my hand. He knew why I had called him. When he took a seat on my couch, I unloaded like a dump truck.

No, I’ve never seen anything illicit between these two with my own eyes. Yes, I thought the situation was worth investigating. Yes, I had seen a lot of physical play between the two, and yes, I thought it was inappropriate. It’s been going on for about a month now…

I lied in a recent myspace survey; I think I cried last night. I know I kept wiping my eyes. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

My friend wrote down everything I said, then closed his notepad and folded his hands. He lowered his head for a moment and just exhaled; one doesn’t become numb to this kind of thing, and it’s a lot to take in.

He looked up to me and asked me, off the record, if I thought these two were being sexual.

…
Yes. I say it out loud.

Whoa…
I was suddenly sprinting for the toilet and there went dinner. I hadn’t thrown up in years, and it was like my body was making up for it. I threw up until it hurt, and I was clutching my stomach. It felt like coughing up acid. Thankfully, there was no blood.

My friend didn’t help. He just waited patiently in my front room.
He did, however, ask me if I felt better when I re-emerged. Not really, I said.

We talked—my friends are good at that—about what it really meant to be someone’s father.

When you’re someone’s father, he told me, you have to lead by example. You don’t cut and run when you get angry with someone. You fight for them for all you’re worth, and when that fails, you do the right thing…

I know he is right, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.

Chances are there will be no legal action taken, as there’s no proof. Still, I can say that I did all I could, and mean it.

If I’m going to show my children how to live in this world, I have to do it myself first.

So there it is. I still feel like crud, but I’ll get past it, and maybe one day my former friend will wake up, or maybe he won’t, but that’s between him and God.

I have my own issues to sort through, and I need to keep people in my life who have similar (healthy) goals.

Those are the friends worth fighting for.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Modern Magic Enterprises LTD and Nomadic Productions LLC

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