Boston Karate School Joins the Fight Against Blindness

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

BOSTON (Allston), Mass., October 25, 2010

At 10:00 AM on Saturday, October 29, a team of walkers from Emerald Necklace Martial Arts, a karate dojo in Boston's Allston neighborhood, will participate in the Boston VisionWalk to benefit the Foundation Fighting Blindness.

This is the third consecutive year that Emerald Necklace Martial Arts has supported the Boston VisionWalk. The Emerald Necklace team will be lead his year by dojo member Jessica Smith, who organized her fellow students as part of her purple belt test. Under Jessica's leadership and guidance, the team has collected nearly $1,300 in donations.

"I require all of my students to demonstrate their character, compassion, leadership ability, and communication skills as part of their martial arts training," says Sensei Jason Gould, Director and Chief Instructor at Emerald Necklace. "Jessica has gone above and beyond in running a successful community service project. She has set a great example for the other members of our dojo to follow."

But to earn her purple belt, Smith had to do much more than community service. She also had to demonstrate her self-defense skills during a rigorous physical test that was held in the dojo. Read more about Smith's purple belt test here.

The dojo team will continue to collect additional donations for the Foundation Fighting Blindness throughout the week. To make a contribution, please visit the dojo's team page here.

Anyone interested in participating in the walk is welcome to meet up with and join the dojo team before the event. The team will be gathering at 95 Everett Street at 9:30 am on Saturday October 29. Directions to the dojo can be found here.

To learn more about Emerald Necklace Martial Arts and the work they do in the Greater Boston community, please visit the dojo website or contact Sensei Jason Gould at 617-202-3856.

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Gratitude for "My Marching Orders"

Many years ago, my parents would try to encourage me whenever I was down or facing tough times by giving me a card containing a few words of wisdom and encouragement. They tended not to give me any direct advice or face-to-face lectures (I, being stubborn, wouldn't have listened to them anyway), but somehow the written or printed word always seemed to do the trick. My parents knew exactly what they were doing.

Recently, while cleaning out some boxes in the basement to prepare for our family's move to a new home, I came across a box of decades-old letters and cards — mostly unimportant junk that was long overdue for the rubbish bin. But among the debris, I found two identical cards. Gems, really: One was from Mom, and one was from Dad. Each was given to me on separate occasions.

On the front of each the card is a print of what I now lovingly call "my marching orders." My parents, while not lecturing me in person, where telling me exactly what I needed to do:

Believe in Yourself:
Dream freely
Envision excellence
Cherish your creations
Exude enthusiasm
Be inspired
Inspire others
Take pride in you
Recognize inner beauty
Draw on inner strength
Look inside your soul
Create peace
Seek truth
Spread joy
Embark on adventure
Launch new ideas
Think big
Invoke positives
Live fully
Reach out
Aim high
Find happiness
Expect the best
Be the best

Inside the card from Dad was a note hastily scrawled in his messy hand: "I hope this helps a little. Love, Dad". The note from Mom was also terse: "Hang 'tuff." You can do it. Love, Mom".

But between the words and lines, I realize, was the real and unwritten message that my parents wanted to convey: "We love you, We support you. We're here for you. Keep your chin up. You're bigger than the problem you're facing. So, trust, us — you'll get your ass through this."

Thanks Mom and Dad. I love you, too.

I was listening. Really. I have my marching orders. And I try to carry them out every day. And I'll be sure to tell my kids the same thing — in a way that will get through to them when it seems that I can not.

Ready Or Not, Here I Come

Last night — coldly, calmly — I aggressively and deliberately attacked a woman with a very, very sharp knife.

My student Jess (unbeknownst to her) was testing for sanykyu, first stage brown belt, in the dojo. And in the hours before I came at her with the knife, I'd been picking at her form in the dojo all night, and challenging her to perform other self-defense techniques under pressure when I knew she hadn't practiced them in months. I picked at her stance, her body dynamics, her breathing, and her timing. I even broke up the class and asked Jess to teach a small group on her own, and then checked in on her from time to time to "kindly" point out all of her minor flaws so that she wouldn't pass them on to the junior students she was teaching.

So by the time the knife came out, I'm pretty sure I'd already made Jess a "little bit uncomfortable." The look that appeared on her face when I opened the blade to attack her was a familiar one.

Fear.

But despite her fear, Jess held her ground and faced the challenge before her. I knew she was nervous. (Perhaps "terrified" would be a better word.) But I also knew — even if she did not — that she was ready for the attacks. (At least as ready as one could be, anyway.) For we had, over the past several months, rehearsed the defensive techniques in detail dozens and dozens of times in excruciating detail. We started off slowly with a soft rubber knife, then moved on to a wooden one, then a hard plastic one. And at each stage of the progression, I had increased the force and speed of my attacks. So the full-force live blade test was actually the last step in a very logical training process.

I cannot say that Jess performed the techniques flawlessly. I don't think that would even be possible under the circumstances. But controlling her fear, working outside of her comfort zone, and dealing with a genuinely dangerous situation? That was the biggest part of the test. (Oh, and not getting cut, either.) Overall, I'd say Jess performed her knife defenses fairly well: she even inadvertently delivered a pretty strong blow to my head and nearly broke my arm while vigorously defending herself. (Good for her. Not great for me. But sometimes, that is the way of our people.)

After the live blade portion of the test was finished, I had Jess perform a few solo kata in front of a panel of Black Belts, just for good measure. The lesson there? Whatever just happened is in the past. You survived. Now, focus on the present and move forward. (And oh, yes — deal with that nasty, debilitating, adrenaline fueled chemical cocktail that's rushing through your veins, too.)

So today I'm nursing a few bruises, and I'm happy to report that Jess passed the physical portion of her sankyu examination. It was a tough test. But beyond all of these things, I'm more proud of what Jess has done off the dojo floor for to earn her new rank. To demonstrate their leadership ability, compassion, and communication skills, I require all of my students attempting sankyu to conceive of, plan, and lead a community service project. No one gets a Brown Belt from me without showing me their character. Their humanity.

For the third year in a row, Jess is leading a team of dojo members during Boston's VisionWalk to benefit the Foundation Fighting Blindness. So far this year, Jess' efforts have raised more than $1,200, far surpassing last year's accomplishment. She's set the bar pretty high for those who will follow!

Spartan Simplicity of Life and Elevation of Purpose

I've recently discovered the cure for materialism: MOVING. The simple task of packing up all of your stuff into boxes is a sure-fire way to jump-start your appreciation how little you really need to live a full and happy life.

We'll be moving out of our home of nine years next week into a new home just outside the city. The new home is comparable in size to our current one: we'll be losing only 40 square feet or so of living space, but gaining so much more: A quiet street, privacy, a graffiti-free neighborhood, a driveway, a yard. My commute to and from my day job will shrink from twenty miles to just over two, and I'm already excited about gaining several hours of family time every week and the prospect of occasionally biking or running to and from the office. (Yes, a slightly smaller carbon footprint means something to me.)

As much as I'm looking forward to settling in at the new home, the packing process has revealed a lot about my unconscious habits: Even after donating a ton of things we no longer need or use, and after completely filling a junk removal truck with the clutter in the basement, we still have far too much stuff. Naturally, we're keeping a number of things that have sentimental value, and I just can't bring myself to donate some of my books (knowing fully that I'm never going to read them again). We're leaving some of our furniture behind, but there's still too much stuff!

A friend of mine recently quipped that we spend the first half of our lives acquiring junk and the second half trying to get rid of it. So perhaps this is a turning point for me. As Thoreau, would point out, it's time to simplify:

The nation itself, with all its so-called internal improvements, which, by the way are all external and superficial, is just such an unwieldy and overgrown establishment, cluttered with furniture and tripped up by its own traps, ruined by luxury and heedless expense, by want of calculation and a worthy aim, as the million households in the land; and the only cure for it, as for them, is in a rigid economy, a stern and more than Spartan simplicity of life and elevation of purpose.

I feel really good about our new house. It's not too small, and not too big. Looking at an article online today about some wildly outrageous homes in the Greater Boston area, I know for sure that we're not overdoing it. (We couldn't afford to anyway!) For now, I'm planning to use the unpacking process as a second screening: another chance to decide to give away, or toss things that have no value and serve no purpose. After all, when it's time for my final move, I can't take any of this stuff with me.

Nature

A quick update this week:

As an outgrowth of my short nature-filled vacation a couple of weeks ago and my more recent exploration of environmentalism-as-self-defense in my "this I believe" essay, I've been trying to get outdoors more and spend more time enjoying nature and natural elements.

These days, I eat lunch outside whenever possible instead of at my desk; I step outside frequently to get out of the air-conditioning — even on the brutal 100-degree days. I've made it a point to look up more often — both at clouds and at stars (sometimes it's tough to even see them from my home in the city). I've decorated my office with a vase of wildflowers that I hand picked from the far edge of the office parking lot, and I take time each day to listen to the sounds of birds, rainfall, and cicadas.

It feels great.

Today, I've been reading "Nature" by Ralph Waldo Emerson. Magical stuff! Please enjoy this brief excerpt:

First, the simple perception of natural forms is a delight. The influence of the forms and actions in nature, is so needful to man, that, in its lowest functions, it seems to lie on the confines of commodity and beauty. To the body and mind which have been cramped by noxious work or company, nature is medicinal and restores their tone. The tradesman, the attorney comes out of the din and craft of the street, and sees the sky and the woods, and is a man again. In their eternal calm, he finds himself. The health of the eye seems to demand a horizon. We are never tired, so long as we can see far enough.

Now go and get yourself OUTSIDE!

Spending Time in Nature Is Self-Defense

Last week, we took the family on a quick vacation to the White Mountains region of New Hampshire. We did lots of touristy stuff for the kids, of course — time at Story Land, a day out with Thomas the Tank Engine, pony rides, and plenty of time in the swimming pool — but for me (and for all of us, I think), the best elements of the trip were just reconnecting with family and nature.

There were plenty of "animal attractions" at the touristy places: pigs, sheep, and goats aplenty. Not to mention an alpaca or two. But out in the wild, we saw deer, fish, and salamanders. We got bug bites. And at one point, a black bear crossed my path not 30 yards ahead of Ava and me. We saw rainbows over distant mountains and the stars at night. We smelled the pollution-free air, and we listened to waterfalls and to silence. Silence!

The effect that the woods, mountains, and fresh air had on my daughter was nothing short of amazing. Her natural curiosity came out in the form of questions like, "What do bears eat?", "Where do the deer sleep at night?" and "How do you tell the difference between a boy ladybug and a girl ladybug?"

Now, being a former Marine, I've spent a great deal of time out in nature. But it's been some time since my last outing. To be away from the city, away from the urban noises and pollution, and away from traffic and the crush of other people (even just for a few days) — well, it was restorative. And I also noticed that being out in the mountains gave my eyes and vision the chance to stretch all the way out to the real horizon instead of just to the next block of buildings. Even my gaze has softened.

We finished the trip with a quick stop at America's Stonehenge, where we walked amidst a 4,000 year old site where stones are placed to align with the movements of the sun and stars. The site was built accurately long, long before GPS "technology" existed. This was a time when man and nature were truly connected. As I stood at an ancient stone marking sunrise at the summer solstice, I knew that more time "plugging myself in" out in the woods is exactly what I need.

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This blog is part of the Ultimate Black Belt Test Program, which is an undertaking of The 100., and a part of Emerald Necklace Martial Arts in Boston, MA.

Evoking My Inner Hero

If you were a Superhero...

1.What would you be “called” (Your Super­hero name).
2.What attrib­utes — phys­i­cal, men­tal, emo­tional, spir­i­tual (what­ever feels pertinent) — would be your strengths?
3.What would be your great­est chal­lenge? Your “Kryp­tonite”? How would you strive to over­come that?What would your cos­tume look like?
4.And how will you apply becom­ing the Hero, in your own life?

I recently pondered these questions as part of an essay contest for the launch of the Clubbell Hero Evolution fitness program. My answers to the questions are below.
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I do not wish to be called Super­man, or Spi­der­man, or Bat­man, or any­thing of the sort. Me? I choose to be FAMILY MAN:

• A man with the men­tal dex­ter­ity to deal with the simul­ta­ne­ous mul­ti­task­ing of a thou­sand parental and spousal duties: clean­ing the laun­dry, mak­ing lunches, pay­ing the bills, and clean­ing the dishes, while main­tain­ing enough “brain mat­ter band­width” and phys­i­cal endurance to be present and engaged with every mem­ber of the family.
   
• A man with the emo­tional and spir­i­tual for­ti­tude and peer­less char­ac­ter to be an out­stand­ing role model for his chil­dren and a rock for his wife when­ever times get tough.
   
• A man who pos­sesses the phys­i­cal strength and prowess to be the ulti­mate fam­ily pro­tec­tor, with the will and abil­ity to van­quish any and all who dare to threaten those whom he holds dear.
   
• A man with the vision to lead and serve in his com­mu­nity with com­pas­sion, vision, and cre­ativ­ity: help­ing those in need by orga­niz­ing food dri­ves, park clean-ups, neigh­bor­hood crime watches, and more.

In short, I want to be a HERO in the eyes of my fam­ily and my com­mu­nity. And a hero needs to have a strong PHYSICAL lead­er­ship PRESENCE that inspires CONFIDENCE in others.

FAMILY MAN is a man with the endurance and longevity to shine proudly in life’s great­est moments:

FAMILY MAN trains now — mind­fully and with an inten­sity known only to other super­heroes — so that some fif­teen years from now he has ample energy to keep up with life’s ever-increasing pace. (I turn 40 this year. Ten or fif­teen years from now I want to play tackle foot­ball with my son, now just one year old. I want to be able to dance with a spring in my step at my daughter’s wed­ding – she turns 5 this month. And I never want to “retire” from the activ­ity I love the most: mar­tial arts. I’ve seen too many of my mar­tial arts seniors have to cut back due to injury, wear and tear of the joints, poor health, or just plain “old age.” THIS IS NOT THE PATH I CHOOSE.)

FAMILY MAN does not hide behind a mask, but he has cos­tumes for every sit­u­a­tion: cargo pants and old t-shirts for paint­ing and spack­ling; shorts and a wide-brimmed hat for yard work; khakis and a but­ton down shirt for the desk job; and sharp-looking suits for romanc­ing the wife. FAMILY man pos­sesses the men­tal, phys­i­cal, and emo­tional flex­i­bil­ity to adapt to any situation.

FAMILY MAN’S great­est enemy is ENTROPY: an invis­i­ble foe who man­i­fests as toys on the stairs and weeds in the lawn. An insid­i­ous mas­ter of dis­guise who unex­pect­edly shows him­self in such ways as leak­ing hot water heaters, bro­ken down cars that rob the fam­ily of vaca­tions, aging par­ents, and the atro­phy of bod­ies that don’t main­tain an aggres­sive work­out rou­tine to build and main­tain strength, endurance, and sup­ple­ness. Worst of all Entropy reveals itself in the com­mu­nity as neigh­bors who do not know or care for one another.

FAMILY MAN faces Entropy wher­ever it appears with grace, dig­nity, and humor.

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This blog is part of the Ultimate Black Belt Test Program, which is an undertaking of The 100., and a part of Emerald Necklace Martial Arts in Boston, MA.

Learn more about Sensei Jason Gould