Reflections With Shihan

The Long Way to Belgium

Our path to Belgium started a decade ago in Pennsylvania. Obviously.

One of my students was headed to a martial arts seminar in Pennsylvania. I reached out to the host, and he graciously invited me to join the roster of instructors. It was a humbling experience, and I say without reservation that I learned far more than I taught and am still a student of the host, Sensei Jeff Driscoll, Kyoshi.

While in Pennsylvania, I met another of Sensei Driscoll’s students, Sensei Bart De Backer, Shihan. He, in turn, invited me to join with the other instructors at a seminar that he hosted. Again, it was a humbling and enlightening experience to be amongst such a host of skilled martial arts professionals.

Potomac Kempo - Santillo - The Long Way to Belgium

While at Sensei De Backer’s seminar, I met Sempai Bart Matthijs, Sempai Bene Laloo, and Sensei Rik Moelaert, Renshi, who, many years later, invited me to teach at their event in Belgium this Fall. This seminar was in honor of Shinkai Kempo Karate’s Tenth Anniversary and was impeccably professional and impressively international.

Instructors from five different countries gathered to inspire students of all ranks and ages to achieve a new level of martial arts understanding. Here was a chance to interact with the larger world of martial arts and see that, even in a different country, with instructors speaking many different languages, we have a common language of martial arts principles.

In addition to being a rewarding intercultural and educational experience, this seminar was particularly memorable because I had the privilege of sharing it with Sensei Gary Covington, Sensei Geof Gibbs, and Sensei Kevin Simpson, who flew across the Atlantic for the opportunity to participate.

Furthermore, we were all the more delighted when the host instructors invited us to guest teach Shinkai’s next evening of classes. Sensei Holly Santillo, Renshi taught the children’s classes, and I led the adult classes. What a wonderful group of enthusiastic students! It was a delight and a joy to get to work with them.

There may be many ways to get to Belgium, but the most direct way seems to be to meet people, make friends, and accept invitations. Regardless of where opportunities and invitations arise, if you have the chance to participate in such events, I encourage you to do so! Spending dedicated time immersed in the practice of martial arts, surrounded by people of similar passion, is truly fulfilling.

And you never know where it might take you!

Respectfully and gratefully,
Sensei Chris Santillo, Shihan

Relax, you’re falling.

What do you think about as you fall headfirst towards the ground?

Or, more to the point, what should you think about?

If the surface is pavement or gravel?

Should you tense for impact?

No, obviously, you should just relax.

In the case of falling, as in so many instances, our instincts are flawed. If you are falling towards the Earth, you should not tense for impact. Instead, relax and roll with it. Fall intentionally. There is no guarantee that you won’t be injured, but rolling with a fall will minimize its impact. And make no mistake, it is a skill best practiced in advance.

And so we practice, class after class. In the dojo and hopefully at home too, we practice falling and rolling forward, backward, to the side, with a twist, with only one leg, blindfolded, and while holding a glass of water. We practice these skills so that when we find ourselves heading towards the ground more precipitously than intended, we can bring ourselves to rest safely.

It might be worth noting that, despite our martial framework, in life we are much more likely to fall towards the ground for a banal reason than as the result of an attack. We sometimes stumble over a curb, trip amidst a friendly game of soccer, jump over one of our children, or comically slip on a banana peel. But falling is falling whether someone threw you down or you fell of your own accord. Relaxing and going with energy is always the best way to prevent or minimize injury.

Let’s go further. As is so often the case when discussing martial principles, I am compelled to find the broader application of a particular practice.

In this instance, we can consider the ground to be a difficulty, obstacle, or challenge. We are so often tempted to tense as life’s little speed-bumps come hurtling towards us. But that seldom does us any real good, and much more often does us actual harm. When we become rigid in preparation for conflict, we are bracing for when and where we believe we will take the brunt of the impact. But life—and rolls—are seldom like that.

We often like to rehearse important conversations in our head, maybe asking for a promotion, requesting a grade be revised, or discussing a political position. But to the extent that we believe we have structured the conversation in advance, we have degraded our ability to feel the conversation as it unfolds and respond appropriately in real-time.

If we’re nervous about anticipated pain—perhaps getting an injection—your tension will make the pain worse by double. Tensing a muscle causes the needle to cut more fibers, not fewer. Here, as in so many instances, we are best served by breathing and relaxing. It’ll only last for a moment.

Inevitably the real force that we encounter is from a slightly different place, time, or direction than we anticipated. And stay with me—this is the whole point—to the extent that we brace for one kind of impact, we make ourselves more vulnerable for all others.

As we tumble to the ground, we may believe that we know precisely when we will hit, at what angle, and how much the ground will—or won’t—give. We’re never quite right.

Instead, our best bet is to feel the impact and relax around it—exhaling and dynamically structuring our bodies in a slowly expanding curve while tucking in our pointy bits.

No conversation will ever go as planned, and no two will ever be the same. In the same way, no fall will ever go as you anticipate, and the ground will never be the same twice.

So relax.

Potomac Kempo - Chris Santillo - Relax youre falling — Photo credit: Cascades Photography. Click here for the complete video.

Singleness of Purpose – Overcoming Life’s Obstacles Without Punching

Some people describe a punch in terms of the structure of the body that supports and projects the arm and fist. Others harken to the term “throwing a punch” and explain that a punch is led by the hand and that the body needs but to form behind it. Of course, they are both correct as far as each goes. However, I like to take a step further back, beyond the body and to the mind that initiates the idea of the punch in the first place.

A punch begins with a thought. An intent and a target create motion from stillness. The idea propels the fist and simultaneously structures the body behind it. To the extent that the individual understands and is well practiced in the posture, skeletal alignment, and muscular fluidity necessary for a strike, the punch will come into being to fulfill the intent created by the mind.

Singleness of Purpose - Overcoming Life's Obstacles Without Punching

If all of this sounds esoteric, that’s because it is.

But everyone who has ever practiced has had moments when a strike was better (or worse) than the physical input should have made it. Inevitably, it was the mind overplaying (or underplaying) its role that created the mismatch.

But what about all of the moments in life when we’re not punching people?

I’m glad you asked. As you have probably noticed, there are surprisingly few problems in life that can be solved by punching. Most issues need a much more subtle approach. Luckily, there is a direct translation between the skills associated with punching that you practice in your martial arts studio and the methods appropriate to solving and overcoming the other problems and challenges that life presents you with.

In particular, the notion that the execution of a strike is initiated by the intention in the mind and formulated through the whole being as a single unified action directly translates into daily life. In this way, when we are confronted with a difficulty—be it an assignment at work or school; an interpersonal conflict with a friend, colleague, or stranger; or a developing a legacy project—you can apply the same single-mindedness of purpose that you practice with every punch you throw.

By so doing, you align your entire being behind your purpose. You bring not just your physical body but the greatest intentions of your mind and also the formidable powers of your spirit to bear on the problem at hand. And when you do, few things can stand in your way.

Except when it doesn’t work.

It is worth pointing out—and it’s worth writing a separate blog post discussing—that it doesn’t always work. In the same way that a powerful, focused, targeted strike will not settle all physical confrontations, a direct approach will not overcome all of life’s challenges. And in those instances, it is our ability to be flexible that will help us to prevail.

But let us leave those greater subtleties to another day. Today let us simply relish the feeling of strength that we feel when we fully align our mind, body, and spirit and appreciate how much we can accomplish when we do so.

Many Paths Up the Mountain

There are many paths up the mountain.

That is what we say when discussing other arts, all of the different ways people seek the benefits of Kempo training. All of these other arenas to which people go to challenge themselves to become healthier, happier, and better.

But when standing at 13,500 and staring at the miles forward and thousands of feet of elevation left to go. Well, then there is only one path up the mountain, the one under your feet. The one you have been walking since you started in the pre-dawn. It’s the only path that will take you to the summit amidst the wind and the rain. Periodically the sun tries to break through the clouds, but it is ever rebuffed. There will be no sun today. There will be no respite.

The plan was to summit.

The goal was never to “summit if the sun comes out and the weather is pleasant.” Nor was it to “summit if the trail is easy and we don’t feel overly tired.” It was simply to summit if possible.

And it’s not as if we didn’t prepare. Two weeks earlier, at a similar altitude, three of our party were stopped and unable to continue. Two were physically ill, vomiting by the side of the trail. The heights of the Andes Mountains had shown us their preeminence, and we had taken steps. This time we had arrived early, taken practice hikes, and became accustomed to the thin air.

Control the variables you can control and prepare as best you can.

That’s all any of us can do. And then face up to your challenge, even as it looms ahead of you and above you, casting a shadow at your feet.

But our preparation for climbing this volcano didn’t start last week or the one before. It began years ago in a dojo: when we tried to keep up with the green belt who could kick higher and faster than we could; at our yellow belt test, when we did more pushups than we thought possible. At all of our black belt tests when we kept going despite all of the reasons to stop.

We all encounter mountains every day. Sometimes they are literal mountains, but more often, they are personal and professional challenges that try to make us stumble; to force us back a step; that try to make us give up. And in those moments, we go back to our orange belt test when we tried harder than we thought we could; when we did one more pushup; when we stood tall as our body yearned to crumble.

Comfort is not the goal.

It’s not the goal of mountain climbing, and it is the goal of Kempo training. The goal is to force yourself to do more than you have done so you can become more than you were.

Our path has always been, and will always be Kempo.

It took us up that mountain, and I’m confident it will take us up the next, no matter where it is or what shape it takes.

Potomac Kempo - Many Paths Up the Mountain

What mountains has your Kempo training taken you up?

Take a Breath and Keep Practicing

At the Shaolin Temple, we had the privilege of training with a senior monk possessing the congenial, relaxed demeanor that so often accompanies mastery. Working in a back alley behind the ancient curved rooftops, watched only occasionally by resident (indifferent) cats and our taciturn teacher, we aimed to make our bodies mimic the skills being offered.

In such a setting, and after more than twenty years of practicing martial arts, it might be tempting to be frustrated when left for forty-five minutes in the blistering Chinese sun to practice the same three moves repeatedly.

But that might indicate that one had not gleaned much from his or her practice.

We might get frustrated.

As instructors, we strive to provide feedback and guidance, as well as an appropriate amount of independent practice time. It is a delicate balance to create, as all people—and all practice sessions—are unique. Even respecting this inherent challenge, when we are students (we never stop being students), we might be tempted to feel like the balance is off a little bit, that our instructor should give us more feedback, or more material to practice. We might get frustrated.

On the other hand, we also might remember that we are responsible for our reactions. And, we might remember that none of the critical responses listed above would net us what we came for—which is to learn more, practice more, and to become a better, stronger, more proficient martial artist.

And so, you wipe your brow, take another breath, and work with what you are given.

And so, you wipe your brow, take another breath, and work with what you are given—practicing the same movement again and again. Which, after all, is the only way to get better.

I think we get very used to having things our own way. We are acclimatized to personalized service and customized everything. Only rarely do we run up against a venue in which we don’t get to make choices, and some part of our mind rebels.

Maybe our instructor knows better than us how we should spend our time.

But, customizing everything presupposes that we know what is best. With regard to the settings on our mobile phone, that supposition is probably accurate. Concerning the practice of martial arts, maybe it isn’t. Maybe our instructor—who almost by definition is further along the path than we are—knows better than us how we should spend our time.

And so, you wipe your brow, take another breath, and keep practicing. You see, we’re never done practicing—not today, not this drill or form, and not in this lifetime.

Potomac Kempo Take a Breath and Keep Practicing to Shaolin Temple

Competitions That Matter

Everyone knows when it is tournament time for our studios. The practice rings are set up in every studio, inviting everyone to be brave enough to step in the ring. Students start standing up in front of the class to demonstrate their skills while *gulp* everyone else is watching, waiting to applaud. A sense of team spirit surfaces as the demo team polishes its routine and each school rallies to be the one that brings home the tournament cup. A lot of preparation goes into this competition that, frankly, doesn’t matter.

It seems odd that while discussing a tournament that one might be inclined to indicate that competitions don’t matter — but hear us out!

Potomac Kempo Tournament Victory Medals Winning Smiles

Upon reflection, we must accept that the outcome of most of the competitions that we have entered into in our lives — be they 2nd-grade little league games, middle school science fairs, or high school track meets — has had no impact on our lives. How would your life be different if you had won/lost that little league game, science fair, or track meet? In all likelihood, it would not be any different at all.

We can hear some of you arguing already — “winning that game was a pivotal moment in my life,” or “my dream to work as an engineer started with that science fair….”

Let’s get down to the brass tacks. The life-directing experiences that come about from competitions lie not in the moment of victory or defeat, but in how you handled the months of preparation that led to that moment. Without those training grounds, we would be less than we are. You are stronger, faster, more able to take on life’s challenges by preparing to enter into the ring, not by winning or losing the game that happens there. The punchline is that the competitions themselves don’t matter.

Did you train with consistency? Did you reflect on how to improve your approach? Did you build strength and adaptability? Did you recover from your failures? Did you follow through until the key moment?

You see, it is through the process of preparing for competitions that don’t matter that we become ready to face the challenges that do matter. When Renshi Holly was in high school, she was on the swim team. Her record — whether it was good or bad — is lost in the mists of antiquity. However, a few years ago, before all of our sons knew how to swim, one of them fell in the deep end of the pool. With footwork born of countless sparring matches and a dive trained on that long forgotten swim team, she raced to save his life. That was a competion that mattered.

This character-building is why we gather twice a year to participate in a tournament and why you should start training now for the next one. The tournament won’t matter, but how you prepare for it will.

With respect,
Shihan Santillo