I DON'T NEED TO TRAIN ANYMORE

 by Yang Shuangxing

You think you've heard it all...after so many years in the martial arts, there's nothing left that can surprise you. You're wrong. At least I was...

A friend was telling me about a seminar he'd attended presented by a visiting instructor of some note. He was introduced to a number of people who made it clear that they were “seniors” and also instructors themselves. As the event began, my friend noted that none of the “seniors” were participating in the warm-ups. Instead, they stood at the back of the room and watched. He snuck over to their group and asked if they'd be joining the training. “I don't train anymore”, one of the group told him. “I just teach.”

Well, I thought I'd heard it all...I've become accustomed to being told stories of “tenth dans” who weren't old enough to remember the first Bush administration. But I have to admit, my jaw dropped. Had their techniques become so dangerous that they were enjoined from regular practice around mere mortals? Did they believe they'd reached a level wherein no further training was necessary? Such a notion is beyond preposterous. It's like saying, “I am so good at marriage that I have perfected it to such a degree that I no longer need to be married.” Such an idea is absurd, to say the least.

Let me be clear here: there is no graduation from the martial ways. There is no summit you can reach where you say, “I've climbed to the highest level, so there's no place now for me to go.” The truth is that when you finally reach the summit – or what appeared to be the summit – you see three or four even larger hills before you. And if you have the wherewithall to climb one, you're rewarded in the same way again...even higher mountains! You can't even imagine having the time, energy, or resources in what remains of your life to climb even a fraction of those peaks that lay in the distance.

For some, this description of the path will seem exciting and challenging; that a martial way offers vistas that are so varied and profound that they can't be fully explored in a lifetime is a powerful attraction for them. For others, however, that first view from the hill is rather intimidating. There is something small in these people that whispers to them from the depths of their egos and they turn their backs on the distant hills, telling both themselves and others, “I made it to the top.” And they spend the rest of their lives marching around the crest of that first little hill, reliving their accomplishment and pretending the other hills just aren't there.

To me, this is the best explanation for someone to believe that has no longer needs to train, that his efforts should now be directed at sitting comfortably and shouting instructions to those below him. Although he may be able to assist others to reach the position that he has achieved, he can't provide them any assistance in going further.

The greatest joy in the following of a martial discipline lies in the process itself. It's a path, not a destination. In the end, what matters is not how many peaks we reached, but the value we added to our lives climbing the mountains. Although age, injuries, or illness may slow the journey, we can continue to climb in some fashion. And the “seniors” at my friend's seminar weren't incapacitated in any way. They were perfectly (physically) capable of activity and that's what is so sad about their attitudes.

Some time ago, I realized that I'd started a journey that I could never finish. And that's okay. But an instructor who believes that he's completed it? Well...such a one would never be MY instructor.