Excerpt from Mastery by George Leonard
Note:
The character Mr. Leonard
calls Tony is Marko Kowalski.
A
Tale of Two Experts
How do you respond when offered the
chance of renouncing a present competency for a higher or different one? The story of two karate experts--call them
Russell and Tony--trying to learn aikido might serve as a guide. Both of them were participants in an
eight-week certification program that required aikido training five
days a
week. It was my job to teach the class.
Russell was small, wiry, intense,
and scholarly--an exceptionally gracious person who went out of his way
to be
helpful to his fellow students. He held
a doctorate, and was director of professional training in a large
organization. In addition, he had a
first-degree black belt in karate.
Tony’s schooling had been accomplished on the streets of Jersey City. He had come to the martial arts early in life
and now, at 31, he held a fourth-degree karate black belt and was owner
of two
karate schools.
From the moment Russell stepped on
the training mat, he revealed that he was a trained martial artist. His individual warm-up routine included
several karate moves. When called upon
to deliver a punch during class, he resorted to the specialized style
of his
previous discipline. Once, on a two-hand
grab attack, I noticed him moving purposefully to keep a maximum
distance
between his body and that of the person he was attacking.
I suggested he stay closer and let himself
flow with the attack. “Surely you
jest,”
he said with a laugh. I told him that in
order to learn the basic moves, it would be better just for now to
forget defensive
possibilities: we would learn to cover
any openings later. I could see that
Russell was finding it hard to let go of his expertise, and because of
this
failing to get the most out if his aikido training.
After the first four weeks he was falling
behind some of those who had never done any martial art, and it was
only at this
point that he finally surrendered his prior competence and got on the
path of
mastery.
Tony’s approach was different. From
the beginning, he never made a move, not
even a gesture, that might reveal he was an expert in another art. Without a hint of ostentation, he showed more
respect than did any of the other students for his teachers--this in
spite of
his high rank. He carried himself with
an air of calm sincerity and was unfailingly aware of everything going
on
around him. Along with this was a powerful
presence that could be quickly recognized by any trained martial artist. Just by the way he sat, stood, and walked,
Tony revealed himself as a fellow traveler on the path of mastery.
During
a class at the end of the
first four weeks, I had all the students sit at the edge of the mat,
then asked
Tony if he would show us one of his karate kata predetermined sequence
of
movements. He bowed, walked to the
center of the mat, and breathed deeply for a few moments.
What followed brought a sharp intake of
breath from almost all of us. Moving
gracefully and faster than the eye could fully comprehend, Tony
launched one
swift and deadly strike and kick after another, leaping, spinning,
emitting
resounding kiai shouts as he dispatched imaginary foes at every point
of the
compass. When it was over, he once again
bowed humbly and returned to the edge of the mat to take his place with
the
others--the most thoroughgoing beginner of them all.
Perhaps the best
you can hope for on
the master’s journey--whether your art be management or marriage,
badminton or
ballet--is to cultivate the mind and heart of the beginning at every
stage
along the way. for the master, surrender
means there are no experts. There are
only learners.
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