Sharpening Your Skills.
Trevor Haines.
Very good. Now let's try this move again and make sure you settle your weight on that last
strike. Any questions?" “Uh, Yes. Trevor, what's the hardest thing to learn in Kenpo?"
One of my daydreaming students asked me this question in the hopes I would entertain him by demonstrating a lethal karate technique, a daring kick, or some type of amazing martial art stunt. My response to this student was a disappointment to him for it lacked the athletic zeal he was hoping for. "Robert, the hardest thing to learn in Kenpo is patience."
We have all experienced the frustration of coming home after Kenpo lessons and wondering, When will I be faster, stronger, more flexible, and have greater precision? Although you are moving up in belt ranks and learning new material, a sense of completion seems to constantly linger in the future out of your immediate reach. Like a thirsty man in the desert who is chasing images of an oasis, martial artists seem to be on an endless treadmill that can be both rewarding and frustrating as they search inside of themselves to reach higher and higher goals. Why does our progress sometimes seem so slow?
Imagine if your martial skills took the more tangible form of a knife. Suppose each time you come to class for kenpo lessons, you are sharpening your knife on a stone. Each lesson may involve only a few strokes on this stone, thus your knife is not visibly sharper. However, through the course of time, your blade will become exceedingly sharp. Yet each lesson your knife will seem no sharper than the lesson before. Furthermore, your classmates have been sharpening their blades at a similar rate. Relatively speaking, it still seems difficult to notice that your knife is any sharper, because the knives around you are still comparable. One faithful day you need to use your knife to cut some rope. You begin to apply the same pressure you once needed, but instead of meeting resistance, your blade quickly slices through the rope. It seems as if this progress happened suddenly, but you prepared your blade for this moment with each lesson you attended.
By this stage, you own a knife that is quite functional and does not require additional sharpening to meet your basic needs. Others who are just now starting to sharpen their blades marvel at your knife with envy and wish that they could learn the "tricks" you possess. Although you tell these onlookers that it is just a matter of time spent with the stone, many look for secrets or short cuts and give up when an easy method is not found. You have learned that your original knife had within it the potential to be sharp and cutting; nothing needed to be added to your blade -- only subtracted.
Sharpening Your Skills. © 1990 Trevor Haines
strike. Any questions?" “Uh, Yes. Trevor, what's the hardest thing to learn in Kenpo?"
One of my daydreaming students asked me this question in the hopes I would entertain him by demonstrating a lethal karate technique, a daring kick, or some type of amazing martial art stunt. My response to this student was a disappointment to him for it lacked the athletic zeal he was hoping for. "Robert, the hardest thing to learn in Kenpo is patience."
We have all experienced the frustration of coming home after Kenpo lessons and wondering, When will I be faster, stronger, more flexible, and have greater precision? Although you are moving up in belt ranks and learning new material, a sense of completion seems to constantly linger in the future out of your immediate reach. Like a thirsty man in the desert who is chasing images of an oasis, martial artists seem to be on an endless treadmill that can be both rewarding and frustrating as they search inside of themselves to reach higher and higher goals. Why does our progress sometimes seem so slow?
Imagine if your martial skills took the more tangible form of a knife. Suppose each time you come to class for kenpo lessons, you are sharpening your knife on a stone. Each lesson may involve only a few strokes on this stone, thus your knife is not visibly sharper. However, through the course of time, your blade will become exceedingly sharp. Yet each lesson your knife will seem no sharper than the lesson before. Furthermore, your classmates have been sharpening their blades at a similar rate. Relatively speaking, it still seems difficult to notice that your knife is any sharper, because the knives around you are still comparable. One faithful day you need to use your knife to cut some rope. You begin to apply the same pressure you once needed, but instead of meeting resistance, your blade quickly slices through the rope. It seems as if this progress happened suddenly, but you prepared your blade for this moment with each lesson you attended.
By this stage, you own a knife that is quite functional and does not require additional sharpening to meet your basic needs. Others who are just now starting to sharpen their blades marvel at your knife with envy and wish that they could learn the "tricks" you possess. Although you tell these onlookers that it is just a matter of time spent with the stone, many look for secrets or short cuts and give up when an easy method is not found. You have learned that your original knife had within it the potential to be sharp and cutting; nothing needed to be added to your blade -- only subtracted.
Sharpening Your Skills. © 1990 Trevor Haines