It is difficult to maintain one's dignity when you have your foot stuck through a wall; up to your hip; seven feet above the ground. How, you might ask, would I know that? Well, as it happens, you might notice if you were to walk into my Kung-fu studio at this moment that there is a hole in the front wall, about seven feet above the floor. I shall have it repaired in a few days.

To tell how the hole was made, I guess I should back up a bit. The other night I was watching one of those silly Ninja movies, and I was thinking to my self how ridiculous the high flying kicks they were using were. I mean, how often do you find a need to leap seven feet into the air to kick someone, unless you expect to be fighting giants. In any case, the next day I went in to open my studio as usual about an hour before my first class. I like to practise a bit on my own before I start teaching. Well, I kept thinking about that stupid movie, and the thought crossed my mind that it might be interesting to see if it was really possible to do one of those kicks, so I tried; just to see if it could be done, you understand. Well, I did several of them, but it is hard to know how high you are kicking unless there is something to gauge it from, so I decided that I would target on the wall, just touching so I could see how high I had gotten. The first two kicks were find, but I was only getting about five or six feet up. Well, I tried a little harder for the third kick, and it would have been fine, except that I slipped as I was jumping, and thus I hit with more force than I had intended. Well, gyproc is not all that strong, so my foot went right through. So there I was, a good seven feet up the wall and buried to my hip. It was nice to know that I could do it, but I had this problem; how could I get my foot out without falling on my head? As it happened, I could see no way to do it, so, when my senior students arrived half an hour later, there I was; hanging above them.

I feel that a teacher should preserve his dignity, otherwise their ability to teach is harmed. This in mind, as my students walked in and looked around for me, I acted as if nothing was wrong."Ah, time for class already? We can begin as soon as you help me down. I've been doing an advanced meditation, this should not be attempted until you have reached a much higher level of training. At that time, this meditational form will make perfect sense to you." I said to the puzzled students, and as soon as a couple of them had gotten a stepladder and helped me to the floor, I began the day's lesson.

As it happens, meditation is one of the things included in my classes. I teach this along with the Kung-fu, and also as a separate class. Now meditation classes draw in some interesting people. I remember a thin woman named Sally, I never knew that a person could be hyper and laid back at the same time, but she was. Sally was into Yoga, health food, Buddhist chanting, whale songs, Taoist philosophy, and my meditation classes. After the first class, she was radiant with some inner glow. She told me that the class was excellent; an incredible experience. Being curious, I asked her what she meant.

"As we began to meditate I felt a lightening of my body, my solar plexus became charged. It was as if I was floating into the clouds. Then a pure light filled my mind. As I floated, I heard a sound like the music of the spheres. It was up lifting."

I just listened and nodded knowingly, saying something about the individuality of meditational experience based on personal background, past experience, and mental development. I didn't mention that my personal experience was that when I'm doing basic meditation, my mind is filled with one all encompassing thought: "... B-O-R-I-N-G..."!

Of course, there are a lot of things that can happen when you're meditating. For example, Mary wanted to improve her ability to concentrate, so she spoke with me about meditation. Now Mary happens to be a good student, and she was progressing well. But meditation comes in stages. When you start out, often it seems like you aren't progressing at all. Then, in a sudden flash, you make a mental breakthrough and attain the next level.

Mary was at the point of breathing, which is an important first step. You sit and take slow, deep breaths while counting them silently in your mind. Sound easy? Try it! Sit in a quiet room and begin slow breathing. Now concentrate on counting breaths. If any thought crosses your mind other than counting, start over. See if you can reach ten.

When you're starting, the thoughts tend to go something like this: '... one (this is easy ... bother) ... one (I should get this pretty fast ... oh no) ... one (there ... darn) ... one (this is boring ... sigh) ... one (how long ... here we go) ... one (did I ... not again) ... ' Then you finally reach two: '... two (made it ... ARG) ... one ... '

Mary was able to reach four, then she had a remarkable breakthrough. She was in the habit of practicing alone in the dining room with a kitchen timer to let her know when she had been working for a half hour, usually that timer was what she thought about just after hitting four. This day she asked me to call her in thirty minutes and she skipped the timer to see if that would work better. Time came and I called her. Nothing. Our cat, The Professor, climbed into her lap. Nothing. I tried five minutes later. Same result. After four tries, she came out of it on her own. She stormed into the living room, "What time is it?"

"Ten to eight."

"Why didn't you get me at seven thirty?" she demanded.

"I did."

"I never heard you! You should have spoken louder! " she stormed.

"I've been calling you every five minutes."

"You should have touched me to get my attention." she proclaimed.

"The Professor sat in your lap for about ten minutes."

"I never noticed him." she stated.

"You were deep into the meditation."

"I was BORED! " she exploded.

"You understand! Now you can progress to the next stage of training!" I beamed at her.

She glared at me, so I dropped it. What do people expect sitting and counting breaths to be like?

People have strange ideas about what a martial artist is really like. Of course I'm hardly typical, as you know, but other than strange visitors and odd events; I'm not all that different. Although some are into health foods, natural things, and are against smoking; many are not. I happen to love espresso, cappuccino, and honey dip donuts. I'm also a moderate smoker, much to many people's surprise, or horror.

When the urge hits to have an espresso, I head for the donut shop. They serve donairs, espresso, sandwiches, bagels, soup, ice cream, oh, and donuts. The Monkey Lord and I were sitting there one day talking. He was wearing the body that the lords had made for their visits, so we only attracted a little attention. Outside there was some kind of disturbance brewing, but we were deep in conversation and didn't take notice.

Just as Sun Wu Fu; that's his proper name; was explaining that any sufficiently subtle magic will appear to be science to the untrained observer, a young teen dashed in, knocked my espresso all over the Monkey Lord, grabbed some napkins and ran out. Looking to the parking lot, we could see that the excitement was a food fight. The Monkey Lord decided it was time to 'disperse the urchins', probably because of the espresso. No sooner had he got outside, but a chocolate shake hit him from behind. Now it's hard to command respect with a shake dripping down your back and over your face, but Sun Wu Fu never turns down a challenge. A quick glance told him that another opponent was preparing to pelt him, so he turned and charged. The fellow was holding a submarine sandwich in one hand, and a half eaten apple in the other; just as the apple left the hand, the Monkey Lord dove to the ground, rolled to his feet and stood nose to nose with his startled assailant. Sun Wu Fu smiled broadly, snatched the sub, and did a double backflip to distance himself. As I watched, he leapt into the air and executed a cross between an aerial somersault and a cartwheel without hands. Swinging the sub like a baseball bat, he intercepted an incoming cup that was half full of cola. It sailed back at the pitcher with a drive that any batter could be proud of and nailed him square in the chest. Before the pop-splattered face could register surprise, the Monkey Lord had landed and leapt to get the next attack. For five minutes I watched as he used the sandwich as a golf club, cricket bat, baseball bat, and even an arnis stick. He never missed. When it ended, he pranced over to the one he had got the sub from and said, "Here; this is yours." How he had kept the sandwich in one piece I'll never know, but it was drenched with pop, shakes, and whatnot. The kids dispersed, having been outclassed, out dazzled, and out grossed by the incident. When he returned to his tea, no one in the shop spoke. They didn't even comment on the fact that somehow all the milkshake had disappeared from his hair and clothing. As he sat, he said to me, "Any sufficiently inexplicable event will be denied, ignored, or forgotten by those well enough educated to understand the impossibility of it."

Well, I suppose that life will have its moments like that, but generally it's much less exciting. Most of the time I just teach my Kung-fu classes in an ordinary fashion. There are many reasons that a person might study a martial art; some learn for self defence, some like the competition of tournaments, and there are those who like to show off. This last type bothers me, especially when they show off at the expense of others.

Several of the schools around had joined together on a project to provide a wider exposure to our students. We rented space at a local community center and set up a joint martial arts club. There was no instruction, but students from all our schools could get together for practise. This gave a chance for them to see what other arts did, and it provided a low pressure opportunity for them to spar with students from other schools without having actual tournaments. Our hope was that this would improve the ability of all the students, and since any interested persons could watch, it was good advertising for the schools.

It turned out that we acquired some other results. The first of these came when the students trained in hard style karate tried to copy a couple of judo students. The judoka had been practising a technique called 'reaping'. It involves a swift movement of your leg between your opponent's feet to sweep one foot off the ground so your opponent falls. Done correctly, you connect just behind the ankle for maximum leverage. Two things resulted in problems; the karate students didn't get a good look at the technique, and they had no idea what the concept behind the move was. Most moves are easy to understand when explained, but they happen so fast in practise that you often can't tell what was done. The second problem was a concept called 'total commitment'. This is a fundamental idea in many hard style schools that every move should carry through totally with no 'short' movements, just like the idea of follow-through in golf swings or base ball.

Like most ideas, total commitment works well when it is applied correctly, but students don't always understand everything they learn. These two karate students faced each other like they had seen the judo students do and one swung his leg through a wide, exaggerated arc. His opponent went down and curled up into a ball. Instead of hitting the back of his heel on the back of his opponent's ankle, his knee had connected about three feet higher. His opponent was okay, but he walked oddly the rest of the day.

Not every problem is the result of a misunderstood move. We had two fellows who were at the same level of training in the same school. Both had secretly been practising the same move, a jump kick called a 'flying tiger tail'. This is a fancy move they had been shown in class that involved leaping into the air and bringing both feet up, one extended forward to hit with. They began to spar; bowed to each other, and leapt into the air. Both used the same kick to open with. Both leading feet passed each other. Both kicks connected with the opponents body simultaneously in mid-air. Both fighters fell to the mat stunned. It was the shortest match I'd ever seen, ending in a draw after three seconds.

Now one of the most satisfying events at that club came when Donald, an annoying fellow who had spent three years studying to become a skilled showoff, had a match with Peter. Both studied the same art, but Peter had only started about a year ago. All else being equal, someone who had trained for three years should be able to beat a person with only one year's study. Donald took great pleasure making Peter look like a fool so as to make himself look good, and I was getting quite disgusted. It was easy to see that he was using his training to impress a group of young ladies at Peter's expense. But what could be done about it? The match ended and a short fellow stepped forward. I hadn't noticed him there, but I recognized him immediately. Grand Master Wu doesn't look like a martial artist, and most people wouldn't know him. He stood five foot even and wore heavy glasses. He wore a leather jacket and blue jeans and he had four inch platform shoes to let him come close to looking people in the eye. I met him at a wedding, but that's another tale. He likes to go to such things as demonstrations and tournaments anonymously to watch. As Donald stepped off the mat, Grand Master Wu spoke up loudly enough for everyone to hear, "You good, but you didn't do that kick well."

Donald glared at this stranger in jeans and leather jacket, "What are you babbling about?" he demanded.

"That funny kick where you spin around. It's no good. You have no way to hurt me like that!" he responded easily.

"Ya; sure." having shown us his skill with repartee, he tried to ignore the fellow; but Wu wasn't going to allow it.

"No! I show you; you have no way to hurt me like that!" and with that, Grand Master Wu stepped onto the mat and waited.

Donald gave the girls a look that said, "This won't take a moment." He walked back and suddenly spun about with a powerful kick. Wu stepped back and let the foot pass by ineffectively and then moved forward again to touch Donald's back.

"See; it's no good. You did it poorly. You have no way to hurt me like that."

"Anyone can get lucky."

"No; try again!"

Once more; but this time Wu caught the foot with a sweeping motion and dropped low. All of Donald's momentum was redirected at a right angle to the kick and his face attempted to become integral with the mat. "See; you have no way to hurt me like that! Very poor technique." And Grand Master Wu left. So did Donald. Sometimes things happen to let us know there is justice in the universe.

Justice comes in many forms. The other night, about 1:30, the Yak Lord and I were talking. Everyone else was asleep, except a cat burglar who was slipping in a bedroom window. The first we knew was when Mary let out an indignant scream. Now Mary is not a person you want to mess with when she first wakes up, and by the time I reached the top of the stairs I found the burglar backed against the wall. Mary was throwing everything she saw, all the while yelling for help. The air was vibrant with curses that aren't supposed to come from a lady's lips, and I noticed the burglar's hand had been bitten.

When Mary saw me, she bellowed, "Do something!" Now I'm brave enough, when it comes to it, but even though the situation seemed under control, I for one wasn't going to risk my well-being by ignoring Mary's demand. I jumped forward and grabbed the hapless burglar. I tossed him from the room, an act he might well have thanked me for, and Mary called after him, "That'll teach you for preying on helpless women!"

This was a use of the word 'helpless' that I hadn't previously encountered, but I felt it wise not to comment on it just then. The burglar fled for the front door with some comment about crazy women, and the Yak Lord aided him on his way by taking a drag on a cigar and blowing a jet of smoke at him as he receded. The seat of his pants burst into flame for a moment when the magic smoke touched them, then died out. As he ran from the house smoldering slightly, the Yak Lord muttered, "Of all the crass rudeness." And then he settled down to continue our talk. I wonder if that fellow has changed his line of work.

If the criminal element was smart they would have been laying low this last week because we had an international gathering of martial artists in town for a giant exhibition/extravaganza. You couldn't be sure just who you might be jumping, but of course the temptation of so many tourists who had come to town to watch the exhibition was too much for many and as a result not all the demonstrations took place on the stage. One would-be mugger had quite a surprise when he pulled a knife on a sweet young Chinese girl who was dressed expensively complete with fine jewelry and a lovely silk folding fan. How was he to know when he demanded her money and jewelry that she was Lee Mi, world champion fan fighter? Not only did he lose his knife before he even knew what was happening, but since the fan which Miss Lee had was not intended for fighting it was damaged and she was annoyed enough by this that she began beating him about the head demanding restitution until he finally submitted and found himself giving her $48.95 so she could buy a new fan. I guess it is really true that crime doesn't pay.

There are always stories to be told when a large number of martial artists gather together, for example there was an incident where Joe Hawkings, one of the highest ranked Hung Gar masters in North America went drinking with Nakanishi Sensei of the Shotokan School. Both gentlemen were drinking heavily and their boasts were becoming even more prodigious than their drinking. Finally Nakanishi, who was standing and going through motions to illustrate the tale he was telling, drove his fist hard into a brick wall to demonstrate the strength in his hand. Holding his hand out for all to see that it was uninjured by the blow, he turned to Joe and said, "Chinese styles lack the toughness and discipline of the body."

Not willing to let such a challenge go unanswered, Joe leapt to his feet crying, "Watch this!" as his legs swept across at a brass post at the end of the bar. What Joe hadn't realized was that this post was not set in concrete but rather was screwed onto the floor with four screws and on top, rather than being anchored to the ceiling, it held up the corner of the overhead racks which held the glassware for the bar. Before anyone could stop him Joe's leg had connected with a powerful sweep which tore the screws right out of the floor bringing half the glass rack crashing down. I thought the management was very understanding since I heard that they dropped all charges when the two artists agreed to pay the $5000 it took to replace the glasses and repair the damage, besides they'd never had so much business as the crowds which descended on them to see the now famous brass pole which Joe had removed with a single sweep. That sort of thing impresses the tourists. And Nakanishi Sensei insisted on paying half of the damages since he had been the instigator, and besides, he said he'd never seen somebody bring the house down before and he figured it would be a good investment because a story like that is liable to get many a round of drinks bought for the teller.

Of course not everything is that spectacular, I remember well when a slightly tipsy Hatsamoto Sensei was describing one of his more interesting kendo matches in the lobby of the hotel he was staying at. Everything was going fine until he came to the part where he dropped to a low squat to avoid his opponent's sword, unfortunately he forgot that he was wearing tight fitting dress pants rather than the loose garb of Kendo armor. As he demonstrated the move his words were punctuated with the sound of tearing fabric and the story stopped abruptly. Mr. Hatsamoto stood upright and uttered a few quick words in Japanese and his entourage of senior students quickly moved behind him and they left for the elevator with his students walking in close formation two steps behind their teacher to hide the cause of that tearing sound as they rushed onto the elevator to return to the room where he was staying.

Two days later I had the opportunity to witness Hatsamoto Sensei in action with one of his senior students. It was a brilliant match with many spectacular moments and it seemed to me that Hatsamoto was in part trying to recover from the embarrassment of the other day. Unfortunately the most memorable moment was one which hardly helped.

His student began one of the classic kendo combinations which involves a strike to the side of the head followed by a sweep across the knees and ending up with a slash to the hands. These three attacks are executed as one continuous movement which occurs so quickly that there is barely any time to think once the sequence is begun. The master recognized the classic move instantly as it started. Now the standard defense against this maneuver involves a high block with the sword which sweeps down into a low block with the tip of the sword pointing at the ground and the arms rise to head level to provide the third block with the blade midbody, tip still pointing down. However, there is an older defense generally not known these days whereby the defender drops into a back roll as the blade strikes at their head thereby removing their body from all three attacks and as they come back onto their feet the defender strikes at his opponent. Hatsamoto Sensei decided to use this more flamboyant maneuver but unfortunately his student also had a surprise action. His student had devised a modification of the classic combination which struck to the side of the head then the knees like the traditional move but followed through not to slash the hands, but rather in an overhead blow intended to strike the top of the defender's helmet. Now to fully appreciate the situation there are two things you must know, first in the kendo match you fight with a bamboo sword called a shini which is basically a club capable of leaving unpleasant bruises on an unarmored body. The second thing is about kendo armor. The lower body is protected by a stiff quilted skirt which is split at the sides. There is no special protection worn under this skirt as that area is not typically exposed, however if one does a back roll then for a brief instant the underside of the skirt is unprotected. It was in this moment that the overhead strike, having failed to connect with the helmet, connected with the only unarmored part of the sensei. This seemed to eliminate the momentum for him to complete the roll.

He lay there with a glazed look in his eyes as his student removed the Kendo helmet. He was trying to say something and his student leaned closer, then rushed off and returned with a glass of water and a lit cigarette. The Sensei drank the water and took several deep drags on the cigarette before speaking, "That was a clever move, brilliant innovation ... and if you ever do it again, I'll kill you!" Well, I guess sometimes you just can't win.