ALWAYS WATCHING, EVALUATING, TESTING

 by Phillip Starr

I was a young newcomer to this group. I lined up and stood still, waiting for class to begin. Sifu Chen shouted the command and we all jerked our fists to our hips. The best marching band in the country had nothing on us; we all managed to move in perfect unison. But it was sheer coincidence...

And we stood still, staring forward and not moving a muscle. I wondered what was going on but something told me not to look around. I became a fleshly statue. I remember thinking that we were fortunate that we weren't in my karate class, which began with everyone sitting in seiza!

I tried to maintain a look of fierce determination. Probably looked fairly silly, but I wanted to be accepted by this teacher. I wanted him to know that I could take it (actually, I had virtually no idea of what that would entail). Sifu Chen, attired in his sleeveless t-shirt and sweatpants, walked casually around us, and seemed to be oblivious to our existence.

Then he turned and looked at us. His gaze was gentle enough but he radiated an energy that was palpable. Was he getting inside my head, somehow? He nodded slowly to himself and told us to relax. For some inexplicible reason, I knew better than to completely let go. I relaxed my arms and spread my feet a bit just to get more comfortable but I kept staring straight ahead. I stayed focused and didn't let my young mind relax very far. I knew my teacher was still watching. And in the months and years to come, I'd learn that he was ALWAYS watching.

From the moment he saw us enter his home or the training area (which was a recreation room in his basement), he watched...how we carried ourselves, how we greeted and treated each other, the condition of our training clothes, how we warmed up before class (not just what we did, but out attitudes as well). And he watched during and after class as well. He was always evaluating us, not just in terms of physical condition or martial prowess, but our spirits and what was in our hearts as well.

And he was constantly testing us, often in very subtle ways, to see how we'd respond...not only to doing our best to accomplish what was essentially an impossible task, but also how we responded to failure, criticism, and even success. He was probing, finding out who and what we really were, inside and out. Those who he judged to be worthy (in character and spirit more than mere technique), he'd spend more time and once they reached a certain level of skill, he'd show little “tweaks” - aspects of the art (spiritual and/or mental as well as physical).

When I began teaching many years later, I sought to do the same thing. It's not something that can be assimilated quickly. I'm still working on it...