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Taikyoku shodan. Yoi.

I heard the words. While I was hoping that it was merely a kind suggestion from Sensei, I knew better…it was a command. Karate mirrors life – commands are serious, specific, absolute. My only option was to obey. And funny how it wasn’t the first words that made every muscle seize up, but rather that one, tiny little “yoi.” Be ready.

In this moment, I was to prepare myself to perform taikyoku shodan, one of the first kata, or prescribed series of basic moves, taught to students of Shotokan karate. Ask any higher belt: this was the easy stuff. But somehow my arms, legs, hands and feet became wholly independent appendages – often jockeying for position and colliding with one another while my brain screamed,  “Left! Left! No, your other left!” Adding insult to injury is the fact that I am a reasonably intelligent adult who despises failure on any level. Ha! Yoi indeed.

How did I manage to find myself here, blatantly parading my inadequacies in front of men, women and children? Ah, love. It’s true…love will make you do crazy things, especially when you are a mother. My youngest attended classes for awhile and, in the process, piqued the interest of my oldest. Quite specifically, a near-teen boy who still thinks his mom is an ok companion. “Let’s do this together,” he said. Saying no was never an option.

So there we were, my beloved son and I, learning how to block, punch, kick and follow orders in a foreign language. You know how people say that kids are like sponges? Well, let’s just say that while my eldest resembled something akin to a bright, vibrant household cleaning tool fresh from its package, I could have easily been mistaken for some poor, forgotten sea creature whose crevices long refused to absorb anything of value.

Yes, old and craggy I felt, and none too pleased with the realization, either. But something incredible was happening simultaneously: I continued to try.  As feeble and awkward as I felt at times, I never gave up. Through the haze of exasperation and frustration, I recalled one of life’s most important lessons: A failed attempt does not equal failure. Who spoke such sage wisdom? Was it Vince Lombardi, FDR, or perhaps inspiration from Mother Teresa? No, wait…I said that. Certainly to my two kids, and quite possibly to my husband, when whatever was looming seemed just too hard to master. I told them countless times that the path of learning – heck, the road of life – is paved with mistakes. There comes a time when you have to stop focusing on all the wrongs and embrace that one, important thing that’s right: your willingness to stick with it.

Today, it’s different…it may have been the love of my kids that landed me in this alien universe of precision and discipline, but it is for the love of myself that I remain. Although I still hear my brain yelling out directions my body can’t quite follow just yet (or, more likely, the voice belongs to a blackbelt doomed to suffer from apoplexy as a reward for his attempts to correct my shortcomings), I try and focus more on what another part of me has to say in the matter. Regardless, I listen. With unwavering certainty, I know the command will come again. But this time, I am ready.

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Karate, literally meaning open hand, is one of the most popular martial arts in the world.  Developed in the Ryukyu kingdom prior to the Japanese invasion of the 19th century, Karate has its origins in India through Bodhidharma who was a Buddhist saint that brought Martial Arts to China. Although Karate has many styles and different philosophies, they all teach the same thing: self-expression, confidence, courage to stand up for yourself, and the most important of all how to become a better person.

The most important thing I have learned through Karate is how to take everything in academically and to open myself to new ideas and not limit myself. As Bruce Lee said, "to have no limit as limit". My Sensei has taught this to me and this is one lesson I will keep with me always. I have also learned that cross training is very important and that each Martial Artist should know what to expect from a different style. I will remember one thing my Sensei said to me when I was training, it’s not just about punching and kicking. How true this statement was. Learning to control yourself while learning this violent thing, finding the harmony between the inner peace and the violent being we all have inside us, to be able to express ourselves and feel like we belong to something much bigger and greater than ourselves. There is a point in your training when you realize that this thing has grown beyond physical and is trying to reach for the spiritual plane and that is where your true training begins. You start following these warrior ethics and codes you never knew existed and you become an artist of life, as quoted by Dr. Richard Kim, master of Goju Ryu.

I hope each Martial Artist shares this dream with me, to become as strong as you can both physically and mentally and being able to control ourselves in the toughest of situations and be role models for society.

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The student/ teacher relationship in a dojo, or what ever your style calls the training hall, is not the same as a typical classroom. The differences between eastern and western cultures are clearest for those who train martial arts when we learn about dojo etiquette. As I watched my students take a grading exam I was anxious not only for them but for myself as their teacher. Have I prepared them properly? Will they be able to do what the examiner asks if the drills are not ones I have used in class? Do they have the confidence to go on with intensity if they make a mistake? All this questioning made me think about not only my abilities as a teacher but also the differences I would have with my Japanese counterparts.

I tell new students that once in the dojo, they are in Japan. The rules of etiquette are very clear for beginners. No talking, No questions until I ask for questions, do what I say and nothing else until commanded. Commanded is the proper word, for a martial arts instructor must be in command of the class. What we do is potentially lethal and the training atmosphere must be focused and safe. As we progress and training gets more advanced, the rules are pretty much the same with a little more wiggle room for higher ranks. Now this may be a result of some westernization here in the U.S. Western education encourages questioning as a way to develop critical thinking, especially with young adults and older. One Japanese instructor once told the story about coming to the U.S. to teach at a University and was so frustrated with student's questions, the first phrase he learned in English was, "Shut up and do it!" He has since adapted to western method of education without sacrificing true dojo spirit.

Karate is strongly influenced by Zen Buddhism. Self discovery is the core of Zen learning. Students in a traditional Japanese dojo in the past would not be told that their rising block is too low; they would instead get a whack on the head with a shinai and find out for themselves what was wrong with the technique. Zen style training taught by the first Japanese instructors in the U.S. didn't go over very well and dojos didn't grow beyond the few who were willing to subject themselves to this type of training. Repetitive kata training exposes the idea of self discovery. As you train your favorite kata over a period of years, your teacher may correct technique without much explanation. The kata will reveal itself to you as you continue on with practice. My first Sensei spoke of "little epiphanies" in training as one progressed.   Now we get some explanation of the whys and wherefores of waza (technique). Constant repetition and self discovery are still necessary to fully understand your art and to the attainment mushin. Just knowing theory will not enable you to react without thinking. Robin Rielly, 8th dan ISKF, states in his book, " The Secrets of Shotokan Karate", ...todays training is not better or worse, just different.

Giving too much verbal explanation is something with which I struggle. I didn't start karate training until I was 40 years old and was perfectly willing to accept the discipline of the dojo. But as an instructor I found myself explaining too much about a technique, especially to kids. They "zone out" and lose concentration, which is hard enough to maintain. At times I still fall into that pattern but have become more conscious of my ramblings. As class size grows it becomes more necessary to keep the energy level up and not have students suffer for lack doing.

Self discovery puts more responsibility on the students for their growth in their art. I have discussions with martial arts students who complain about not receiving good "real world" application of what they are learning. Is it the teacher who isn't giving them a way to figure this out or is the student expecting too much verbal explanation? A student must use his/her mind as well as body when training. In the dojo we do repetition to make good technique without thought. We build muscle memory, groove the nuero-muscular pathways, and become accurate and controlled. Often bunkai is demonstrated so we know why we do these things. Now we come back to my concerns about being a good teacher and serving my students well. Can I show them the waza, call out drills, and try to correct any errors or bad technique? I can't do it for them. When I train and don't put my best effort into it unless my Sensei is watching, I'm the one who is cheated, not the teacher. Training should be a daily endeavor that increases in importance as we progress. Self training is a good time to focus on the questions of why; what's the point of this technique; why does Sensei tell us to do it this way. Try the waza out with a training partner, work with a senpai before or after class. As an instructor, I can give you the tools, you must use them.

There is a concept in zen related arts; shu, ha, ri. Shu is obedience, to the tradition. At this stage we follow exactly what is taught. Ha is divergence, from the tradition. Now we begin to make the waza our own, we adapt it to better fit our own body. Ri is transcendence, beyond the tradition. At very high rank, we go beyond waza to the spirit and philosophy. Without self discovery Shu, ha, ri is not possible. In the training hall we are faithful to our Sensei's teaching and make the necessary effort to find out for ourselves what the teaching really means, not just in general but for ourselves. When a student can make that art their own, spiritual growth continues beyond the physical.

As students we get out there and sweat. We must also engage our brains. Do the waza over and over and feel what works and be alert enough to recognize when those little epiphanies come. As teachers we must give our students the tools to make good technique and let them make it their own. Sometimes we find a little explanation goes a long way and we more often need to shut up and do it.

The actual execution of the kata announcement varies wildly, from calm utterances to screams that cause nearby glass to shatter. Interestingly, the act of yelling a kata name is extremely old and almost universally practiced among traditionalists.

Lately I've been doing it less and less. I'd like to share some thoughts on when I think it's appropriate, and when you might be able to forego it.

When To Shout It Out

There are a few realities in modern training that make kata announcement necessary. The first, and most obvious, is tournament play.

Judges can't possibly know what form competitors will be attempting, so it's prudent to give them a heads up. Of course, judges of different styles many never have heard of the form anyway, and even if they have their style might perform it differently. Nevertheless, it seems like fair courtesy to inform them.

But if you walk up to the judges and tell them the name of the kata, do you need to yell it again right before you start? By informing them of your name/style/kata, didn't you negate the need for the big name-scream-dramatics?

I've always found the polite, informative introduction to be more prudent.

Another time kata yelling seems appropriate is in a big group setting. A teacher has to keep all pupils on the same page. When a student is first learning a kata, it is quite helpful to repeat the name in context over and over again. This repetition helps learn proper pronunciation as well as mental association of the name with the movements.

When I'm teaching, I'll generally announce the kata and wait a moment for the students to repeat. We'll all then begin together.

Declaring the kata name puts everyone's focus on the kata. I can use the tone of my voice to indicate what level of intensity students should be expending. If I say the kata softly and calmly, they can infer that our intent is to go slowly and discuss things. If I say the kata forcefully, they will know that a high level of power is expected.

By saying the name of the kata, I can also transition from one form to the next without an extended explanation. In a dojo environment where there are multiple students, this seems like a reasonable practice.

Foregoing the Shout

When I train alone or via the older Okinawan methods of 'independent togetherness' I rarely announce kata because the intent and focus is much different.

When training a kata for depth, a severe amount of visualization must occur. The mind becomes like a taut string. Intensity has to be carefully balanced with control and purpose. This mixture of emotional content and physical expression is directed at the imaginary yet vivid opponent in front of you.

Shouting the name of kata in that environment is awkward and rips you from the moment, reminding you that you are practicing a form. If there were an opponent in front of you, you certainly would not begin your life protection by yelling kata at him/her.

You might argue that yelling the kata gets you amped up or puts you in the right frame of mind for combat, but I don't think that is a good habit to rely upon. "Flipping the switch" into a mental state of readiness should occur quickly and silently; a subtle shift that causes the hair on the back of your opponent's neck to stand on end.

There is also a bit of ego and showmanship that can slip in with kata yelling. It's a moment that can be used to draw attention to oneself, even in a group setting. Therefore a student may become obsessed with yelling louder than anyone else. During individual performance, they could be worried about how tough and intimidating they want their shout to sound.

It's all distracting, peripheral stuff that doesn't relate to good performance of kata.

How to Shout

To me, the best kata announcement is serious but not obnoxious. Whenever I have someone screaming kata at me it makes me doubt their focus. Screaming is a result of uncontrolled anger and intensity. These aren't the makings of a skilled martial artist.

On the other hand, meekness or lackadaisical tone gives me a clue that the practitioner is not yet in the right state of mind. What are they waiting for? I feel like the focus should be activated well before the kata name is spoken.

Final Thoughts

You won't catch me lecturing people away from saying kata names before performance if they want to do it. In fact, I do it myself in certain situations. But at times it feels like it goes against the true nature and culture of Okinawan karate (my personal background). As such, I'll be voicing my kata less and less....

This one is a doozy: "How does one learn to become a good teacher? Can lower ranking students teach?"

When considering this question I quickly realized that I couldn't create a prescription for what makes a good teacher. There are far too many varied approaches that can work given the right personality and skillset. Nevertheless, I think I distilled some ideas that can help in recognizing the path of a "sensei" in the classical sense (that is to say, what a sensei was meant to be and what they can be in the modern world). Please enjoy:

I know this video is pretty extensive, so here is a breakdown of some of the main bullet points I touched upon for your notes and reference:

What a Good Teacher Isn't

A Coach

• A coach is responsible for the physical performance and readiness of his athletes.

• Some modern instructors do fit that description, especially in the realm of MMA athletes and tournament competitors (like tkd olympics).

• The classical sensei's subject matter is far more pressing. They are concerned with their students taking other human life in their hands. They have to impart the mental and character skillset to recognize the repercussions of damaging a life, not just on the targeted person, but on their family, on the student, on the student's family, and in a broader sense, deciding what kind of societal impact the decision process will have (will this individual go on to hurt others?).

• There is also inherent right and wrong matters that a sensei must address. Whenever we see a martial artist doing something disgraceful, we suggest that his/her sensei should have helped him/her in controlling their abilities. In old times, every action of a student reflected upon the sensei significantly, so there was a deeper connection than mere coaching.

A Life Guru

• Being a sensei does not grant someone automatic license to give advice on all life matters.

• Most sensei are not professional trained psychologists, therapists, financial experts, etc. Therefore they are not qualified to give relationship advice, financial advice, etc etc.

• In classical times, the sensei or sifu was a much more integrated part of village life. Their training often made them not just the most deadly individual, but also the best trained in medicine, herbs, physiology, and more general education like literacy, government policy, etc etc. These sensei were highly integrated into a town's ecosystem. Sometimes farmers would ask advice for when to plant crops and parents would seek out help for naming their children (so as to avoid bad luck).

• That is no longer the case for modern sensei. In our connected society we have real professionals that do all these other things, and modern sensei are not trained to be village counselors.

A Good Teacher...

• finds the proper balance between coach and guru.

• will focus on passing on the curriculum as it was handed down to them, preserving it as best as possible for the students to explore. They'll resist the ego stroke of flavoring everything with their own flair.

• will understand how to minimize the politics of rank and ego.

• will find the balance between physical technique, mental tuning, and character development. Too much of one will begin to sacrifice the others.

• will understand when to guide students strictly and when to allow them space to explore on their own.

• will do their best to help their students surpass them, giving them tools when they are ready and without ego-based restrictions.

• will recognize the difference between a student who is ready for higher learning, and one who has yet to develop the right character.

To learn how to become a good teacher, you need to pinpoint those unique aspects of instructors you've met and absorb them. You need to find ways to embody those things that a teacher should be and avoid those things a teacher shouldn't be. That's why lower rank students can help teach. They can assist higher ranks or even take classes once in awhile. But it takes many years of analyzing their instructor and understanding what makes him/her so special in order to integrate that into themselves, and be able to use it to benefit students.

The plot was nonexistent and the voice acting made me want to find the mute button in a hurry. Nevertheless, when I was young this cartoon made all the sense in the world and I loved it.

Was I wrong as a kid to hold it up as greatness? Am I wrong now for seeing it differently? No. I simply have a different mind today than I did all those years ago.

Of course, growing out of a cartoon isn't a very monumental personal development. But there are more subtle examples of how the mind can develop year to year, week to week, and day to day.

Books, in general, are read once and then filed away. Every now and then one stands out to each of us in such a way that it demands closer inspection. Most prudent martial artists have a few specific books about the arts that they deem exceptional, and have revisited them from time to time.

The important thing about special books isn't the raw information but the complexity of the concepts; the depth of the insight that reveals more over time, and improves as the reader's experience improves.

The cartoon of my childhood was entertaining, but it lacked depth. On the contrary, I can watch certain movies that I grew up with and experience them like they are brand new, filled with powerful emotion and drama.

The Point

I'm not suggesting you should go reread old books (although you should). Nor am I suggesting you should revisit old movies (although you could). What I'm saying is that every day you have a new mind. Sometimes the difference between yesterday and today is infinitesimally small. But of course, the depth of that development is entirely on you.

Every time you step into the dojo you are bringing a new set of experiences, a deeper wisdom, and a broadened outlook. Just how much of that growth you supply is dictated by your desire to learn new things and keep an open mind.

This reality is critical when practicing the fundamentals of your system, sometimes called "basics" or "kihon". Every time you execute a technique you have a chance to see it in a new light with new context. Your mind today can see with better potential than you could yesterday. Of course, not every repetition will result in spontaneous enlightenment, and if you get entirely lost inside your own mind you'll soon feel mental fatigue. As in all things there should be balance. Indeed, sometimes quieting the mind through pure physical expression can be more valuable than analysis. Regardless, the decision should be conscious and aimed at higher goals.

If you find yourself settling for "knowing enough" or going through the motions, then you've allowed yourself to become stagnant. Participation without thought and emotion is a waste of Today's Mind, and a disservice to yourself.

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STORY:

After a hard evening's workout, a sweat drenched student approached her instructor. She shuffled her feet for a moment, then asked, "Sensei why do we always do our blocks the same?"

The sensei replied, "Because that is how my sensei always taught them. We are carrying on tradition."

The girl asked, "But why did he do it that way?"

The sensei replied, "Because that is how his teacher taught him! You know, I've explained the fundamentals of our blocks, the physics of our movements and how each block compliments our stances. I'm surprised you don't know all this already! Certainly by your rank you should know."

The girl responded, "Yes, but I was just wondering if there is no better way to do it. Are we sure we are doing it the best way?"

The sensei replied, "Yes of course. This way has always proven effective for me and those that have gone before me. Are you doubting your own system?"

The girl responded, "Not doubting, just curious."

The sensei learned a valuable lesson that evening.

Times have changed somewhat, and with the increase in school sizes and seminars students are more likely to watch techniques from an expert rather than experience them. In fact, a lot of students get good at melding into the background when the instructor gazes around the room for viable volunteers.

This begs the question - what do you get out of watching a technique vs experiencing it?

Back in the 'ooool days, teachers didn't do a lot of active discussion. They mostly demanded repetition from students and then tossed them around to demonstrate technique. There's something intangibly effective about this method (just watch the old masters for proof).

However, we've learned a lot more about pedagogy since then and the ways in which we can maximize human learning.

It's silly to ignore the value of discussion, explanation, and cognitive science. That's why western style teaching has ultimately influenced martial arts all over the world. A dominant part of the western teaching philosophy is watching and listening (just imagine any given classroom).

When you watch a martial art technique performed, you get a big picture sense of what's happening. You can observe the distance between the two opponents, the way the engagement occurs, and the way it concludes.

A detail-oriented teacher can explain the ways in which he/she is using physics to maximize force or leverage. They can show how and why they are disrupting their opponent's timing or balance.

This is all very valuable input, but not a complete learning experience. Think of it this way: You could watch Xgames skateboarders every day for ten years, including every instructional video made. Armed with all that knowledge, what do you think is STILL going to happen the first time you step onto a skateboard?

You might think to yourself...well yea Matt, your point is obvious - a student has to train to get better. That's why we do partner drills after an explanation, so that we can try the technique!

Not so fast.

Two people that don't know the technique can help each other improve...but are either truly doing what the instructor is doing? Is it as good? How do you know?

Being the uke for an experienced instructor, while often regrettably painful, offers a unique learning experience. You get to feel exactly where the pain is supposed to focus, how the body's balance is broken, where the points of relaxation and emphasis are placed, and what rhythm is needed to optimize effectiveness.

In addition, you get to feel the energy and spirit pressure placed upon you by someone at a higher skill level.

Of course, there's a flipside. When acting as uke during intense techniques, your mind is often narrowed and sometimes blanked by the intensity of the event. You can certainly feel things, but recalling exactly how it happened (and why) is another story. There have been many occasions where I've been uke for an instructor and shortly after their demonstration I've walked back to my training partner in order to ask what happened.

Receiving high level technique is critically important...but not independently ideal.

The Best of Both Worlds

Maximizing your learning potential requires a little bravery. First, you have to take your best blending-in-with-the-crowd tactics and stuff them in a box under your bed. Get up there and experience the real thing. On top of that, you can't be afraid to ask questions, even if it means going through another round of demonstration.

On the other hand, you don't want to get too caught up in the action. Give yourself a chance to slow down and really look at what's going on. Analyze the science in order to get to the art.

Remember: technique speed and physical strength are the go-to methods of students who are trying to breeze over the finer details of a technique. Do things slow and relaxed until you get it right. Pay attention to the small things like foot placement, body movement, angle, timing, etc.

If you have a teacher who tends to discuss technique while relying on partner pairing, politely wait for him or her to become available and ask to see the technique a bit closer. Every teacher I know is happy to oblige such requests.

There's no question that caution and common sense should always guide your training, and I'm not suggesting you throw yourself headlong at every teacher you see (that would be impolite, and some teachers should genuinely be avoided because they lack control). But if you are with a good, kind teacher that also happens to be very skilled...it's in your best interest to experience what they can do first hand.

More than 50 people participated in the October 2009 sweat lodge that was meant to be the highlight of Ray's five-day "spiritual warrior" seminar near Sedona. Three people died following the sauna-like ceremony meant to provide spiritual cleansing, 18 were hospitalised, while several others were given water to cool down at the scene." - The Gaurdian

James Arthur Ray is a rather well-known and successful self-help "guru". He has published bestselling books and has appeared on multiple television programs including The Today Show and Larry King Live.

On top of that, James is CEO of James Ray International and allegedly went to South America to study "traditional methods" like sleep deprivation and glass walking.

So to sum up. Ray's got:

• Traditional training in exotic locales
• Hollywood appearances on TV and in movies
• Success in business
• Published books
• Tough-nosed approach to personal success

That's a thick, powerful resume. Given his natural charisma is it any wonder that people in need of guidance fell into step with him?

The shocking thing is how such a seemingly robust career could be built upon a lethally flawed mindset, supported by questionable credentials revolving around "tough love" and "spiritual warriorship" . The bad part is that this isn't a one-time misstep for Ray:

"Critics say Ray is a charlatan who preys upon the insecurities of the rich who are looking for meaning in life. They say he operates without regulation or oversight to verify accurate claims or safe methods.[11] According to Grant Cardone, James Ray consulted him for methods in 2000 to increase sales at business seminars, and was warned to teach only sound business practices. After this time, Ray began incorporating sleep deprivation, fasting, fire and glass walking, and sweat lodge methods after studying in South America.[13]

Former attendees of Ray's seminars have reported unsafe practices and lack of properly trained medical staff in 2005. A New Jersey woman shattered her hand after she was pressured by Ray to participate in a quasi-martial arts board-breaking exercise. After several unsuccessful untrained attempts, the woman sustained multiple fractures during the seminar that was held at Disney World.[14]

Participants of a Ray's "Spiritual Warrior" exercise in 2006, after signing waivers, were told to put a sharp point of an arrow used in archery against the soft part of the neck and lean against the tip. A man named Kurt sustained injuries during this exercise as the shaft snapped and the arrow point deeply penetrated his eyebrow." - Wikipedia

Now the Obvious Question...

Does any of this seem familiar?

Ray is playing off of a concept known as "shugyo" in Japanese. Shugyo refers to a polishing of one's spirit through considerable effort, pushing through self-imposed boundaries and finding deeper levels of enlightenment. Shugyo is sometimes an event that an individual undertakes, such as running a great distance or training in kata for hours until a new level of understanding reveals itself.

Different cultures express shugyo in different ways, but the core concept is an important part of many ancient societies.

What Ray did was collect what he thought was shugyo concepts and carelessly thrust individuals into the middle of them, creating a sink-or-swim environment that all too easily led to disaster.

The Martial Version

Ray's transgressions are extreme, but this kind of behavior is more prevalent that you might suspect, especially in the realm of martial arts.

Uber-tough guys (and girls too) can be found in any given martial system. Glance around and you'll find some gnarled old guy ready to tell you about how he used to knock people out, fight for 12 hours, sign blood oaths of dedication, etc etc. Look the other way and you'll find some young guy with everything to prove, talking about choking people out, training until he pukes, etc etc.

These examples pale in comparison to Ray, but are still symptoms of the same ego-driven perversion of shugyo.

Pushing oneself hard during training is a critical part of growth, but can quickly become mentally and physically dangerous without proper guidance and a healthy amount of experience. Things truly become problematic when individuals take dangerous, misguided habits and attempt to apply them to others.

Even the most thickheaded martial artist has an idea of his/her own limitations. When they apply fierce training to themselves, they instinctively know when to pull back. What they don't realize is the incredibly different needs and abilities of every single individual they come into contact with. Martial art schools are not Marine boot camps. The individuals coming into a dojo are not all going to be excellent physical specimens, carefully tested and guided to withstand extreme conditions.

Sure, you'll find one or two pure athletes that can handle just about anything; but you'll also have a whole bunch of people with full time jobs, kids, health conditions, fears, weight problems, social anxiety, injuries, and more.

The dojo can easily become a pseudo boot camp as led by the alpha-dog, weeding out the very individuals who need training and guidance the most.

Worse yet, the dojo can become a base of operations for a persuasive leader who hides behind things like shugyo to manipulate and abuse students, sometimes for money and sometimes for personal satisfaction.

When persuasion meets perversion we find situations like that of Harry Cook, a famous European martial artist and author who was arrested on multiple sexual assault charges (facts here, opinions here).

Stopping It the Only Way We Can

We can't control the minds of other people, but we can control ourselves. It's possible (with careful introspection) to identify when we allow ego, greed, and other natural human elements to creep up and influence us. We can observe cases like that of Ray or Cook and carefully learn from them.

Once we identify what the martial way is not, we can more easily guide our own training and assist those around us.