My intention with Martial Energy Works is to share things that interest me, particularly with regard to insights gained through the martial arts but not exclusively, since I find that practice is a tool and a mirror for looking at the world. My willingness to do this comes with caveats however.

This is what I think about this thing at this point in time.

How much has my perspective changed over the course of my life? Some things have never changed. Others have been altered and reshaped continuously.

What hasn’t changed?
I still feel like me. My basic sense of morality is intact. I’ve always paid attention to what is right. I still appreciate the wonder of a spring morning—grass crisp with dew, the promise of a warm sun. I still feel that elation at the end of a long, active day as I sit before a setting sun. My appreciation for life itself remains steady.

What has changed is my level of knowledge. The number of experiences I’ve had, the depth of understanding I’ve gained about events, people, and the complexity of life—these have certainly shifted. My purpose has shifted too, more than once. Each time I entered a new era, I found myself astonished by the changes, and my heading adjusted to meet each newly defined purpose.

My skill has grown, and my understanding has grown with it. Much of that was intentional and hard-won; some of it was thrust upon me by trials of one form or another.

Early in my martial arts training, I remember the embarrassment and uncertainty of not knowing, and how hard it was to take risks. Later, when I made some progress and tasted success, that uncertainty faded. It was replaced by zeal, confidence, and more than a touch of arrogance. Then life struck me from multiple directions with things I could not overcome—and I had to change. It was a crisis, and I nearly quit. But I didn’t. What emerged from that period was someone more seasoned, calmer in the face of challenge. Eventually I felt steady enough to give back through teaching, through my work, and by supporting my children.

Now I sit and think as I build things. I can feel my body creaking with accumulated wear. I still practice often. Each session begins with movement, and with that first movement the years slip away until I’m relatively nimble and quick for my age. Then I stop—and if I sit, I’m stiff and sore. I move enough that I’m not entirely sure which state is my “new normal.” But I often return to the admonitions of the sages: “To stand still is to regress,” and “Life is like treading water—if you stop moving, you sink.”

As for practice, at some point I realized that my understanding of things would always shift over time. That’s still true. So these days, when I teach something, I offer the simple disclaimer: “This is what I think about this thing right now.” Some insights have persisted once I recognized their solidity; these I’ve come to regard as the fundamentals. But even those are subject to refinement as the years go by. As I’ve grown older, I’ve focused more on these fundamentals—in my own training and in teaching—trying to refine them further and challenging myself to test what I believe may be inviolate.

This fascinates me: that the world consistently offers growth and development, if only we ask and endeavour. I am grateful for that gift.