Martial arts -- they're not for everyone.
How often have you heard someone say that? I've not only heard it, I've said it.
David Brooks just wrote one of the best op-ed pieces I've ever read in The New York Times about how to live the best life possible. If you are a martial artist, and a dedicated one, you might see yourself in this wonderful piece.
For those of us who feel compelled to practice these arts long-term, we don't see the strain and the pain of learning as an obstacle.
We are faced with intricate movement that requires us to rewire our brains and bodies.
We are corrected over and over by our teachers.
And when other students who enroll in a martial arts class give up because it's "too difficult," we see that difficulty and pain as a challenge. Do we feel uncoordinated? Yes. Does it discourage us? No, it makes us work harder.
We work to get better, and the better we get, the more we practice. We know we can do better.
We practice and study -- week after week, year after year -- sometimes, the same material.
How many times have I practiced Yilu, the first main form of Chen Taiji? Countless times.
How many times have I practiced the Xingyi Linking form or the Bagua Eight Main Palms form? Countless times.
How many more times will I practice these forms and the various fighting techniques, principles of movement, push hands, and more?
Countless times.
I don't know how the martial arts bug bit you, but when the Kung Fu TV show hit TV in 1972, I was mesmerized. It was as if they reached inside my mind and turned on a neon sign that said, "This is IT!" A few months later, when Bruce Lee hit the screen in the U.S., I had no choice. I had to study.
In September, 2025, I will have been practicing punches and kicks, blocks and deflections, forms and sparring -- for 52 years.
Why did martial arts enrapture me that way, when I have seen dozens and dozens of students say they want to be the best, only to drop out within a few weeks or months?
I've seen students compete in tournaments, not win a trophy, and drop out of martial arts, discouraged, thinking they aren't good enough. They didn't feel the passion.
When some sport or activity like this touches your soul, your failures are not failures. Instead of giving up, you ask yourself, "How can I get better? What can I learn from this?" The failures fuel the fire inside to study and practice further, because when the neon light that says "This is IT!" is turned on, there is no turning it off.
Almost everyone has something out there that strikes a passion in them -- something that will turn on the inner neon sign. For some people it's running, as David Brooks points out. For others it's painting, or playing guitar or the piano. Others play golf or basketball.
Whatever strikes you this way, it's not just a hobby, or a way to make a few bucks. It's a calling.
If you answer a calling, you don't mind feeling clumsy or inadequate, because you are determined to work until you don't feel that way.
So we should cut people some slack if they say they want to learn martial arts but drop out before too long. It just didn't flip the neon sign on in their souls as it did for those of us who have put decades into the arts. And that's okay, because the people who drop out can keep looking for That One Thing they are passionate about.
Meanwhile, we will still practice, practice, over and over again, aiming for something that drives us forward, continuing to reach for that elusive bit of excellence that we know we are capable of attaining. We are determined to do it.
I now realize this is why I continued practicing after losing a lung. I kept learning and practicing after developing atrial fibrillation, and through the other physical insults that aging inevitably brings. I hit the age of 70 and kept practicing and studying. I hit 72 and I am still practing and studying. Why? Because practice brings its own reward.
For we know that when we get into "the zone," when we are putting the body mechanics together and time stands still and the movement flows and we are focused and committed, we are living our best life.
You don't keep going because it's easy. You keep going because something deep inside you is nourished by the work. It's not always flashy. Sometimes it's frustrating. Sometimes you’re working on a movement or concept for years before it finally clicks. But the joy is in the work—the slow honing of skill, the insight that comes from quiet persistence, the moment when you feel "Oh, I GOT it."
When you start training, you want to earn the ultimate prize - a black belt. Some people earn a black belt and quit, thinking their journey is over. But those who are in it for the long haul see the future widening in front of them, with goals to achieve for a lifetime.
When you find something that fulfills you in the way martial arts fulfill me, it is something you can't stop even if you try. It gives you a sense of purpose -- a way of being in the world.
That’s how I feel about internal martial arts. They align with my love for philosophy, for self-defense, for self-improvement, and for helping others discover their own internal strength. I love the martial aspects. That's why I gave my teaching practice the name Internal Fighting Arts. But it's all one inseparable package.
When people ask how I’ve stuck with it for nearly 52 years, the answer is simple: Once I discovered it, I couldn’t not do it.
It’s not just something I do. It’s part of who I am.
When you find That One Thing that turns on the neon light of your passion -- that takes you down the long path -- you wouldn’t trade it for anything. I hope you find it.
---by Ken Gullette
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