While preparing for my action team’s next film project, I recently had the chance to talk to my Katana action instructor through a translator for the first time. Although I’d always been impressed with the depth of understanding he seemed to exude while teaching, what really struck me about the conversation was just how much I’d been missing by not being able to completely understand him.
Thus far, having spent a third of my life living abroad, and learning martial arts in seemingly everyone else language but my own, I like to think that I’ve become quite accustomed to the ‘watch, follow, smile, and nod’ routine. I’ve always enjoyed my training, and walked away feeling like I’ve learned a lot- much like I would if I was studying in my own country, and in my own language. At the same time however, given just how much easier it is to make sense of things when one has the luxury of communicability, my constant struggle to find meaning through observation, trial and error seems to beg the question as to whether or not traipsing all over Asia to train in ‘the mother lands’ is really the best way to master my craft.
It’s certainly not like we don’t have our fair share of national and international martial arts champions and superstars at home in the states. The states has produced such champions as Benny Urchidez, Chuck Norris, Ernie Reyes, Steven Lopez, and training in their methods is generally open to anyone willing to commit and pay for them. Beyond that, living and training at home would also spare me from the myriad of challenges to trying to live life out here such as ordering a pizza without squid tentacles on it, playing Russian routine with the convenience store ice cream (black coffee, redbean, or green tea, anyone?) and time and time again, having to explain (with the vocabulary of a 4 year old) that the system of thought that I use is not just logical, it’s actually effectively utilized by an entire national of people that all just happen to be on the other side of the ocean, and are too far away to back me up.
Given all these factors one would think that I would pack up my nunchakus and yellow Bruce Lee track suit, and head home, but despite them, and for reasons unknown even to myself at times, day after frustrating day, week after week, month after month, and year after year, I stay, I persevere, and I keep training. Perhaps it’s because as difficult as these barriers can be to face, overcoming them makes mastery of any given technique that much sweeter, and my understanding of it that much more thorough. Perhaps it’s because in training in a given martial art’s native language and culture, I can understand the root of the philosophy that developed it. (Such as how the same Samurai concept of ichigeki hissatsu –one strike, certain death- has manifested in the rule systems of judo, and sumo, and the training system of Kyokushin Karate ). Or perhaps, it could be that maybe –just maybe- the redbean ice cream has grown on me.
