Life and martial arts never stops changing. In 1970 I took my first martial arts class in a suburb of Omaha, Nebraska. At the time, children at the school were not allowed to attend TaeKwon-Do classes and Judo was my only option. While I thoroughly enjoyed the classes, I wanted to do the exotic looking kicks and punches I saw the older students doing in the classes across the floor.

Imported martial arts movies were just coming into their heyday and shows like Kung Fu, Longstreet, and the Green Hornet were blazing across my television screen. Like most of my generation, the newly developing martial arts movie genre affected my initial perception of the martial arts. I was sure that somewhere down the road (if I kept taking classes), I would be imbued with secrets that would result in superhuman abilities.

As I grew up, my attitudes about the marital arts grew with me. I had good teachers that left me with realistic expectations about my training and what I could expect from them. When I was old enough I made the jump from Judo to TaeKwon-Do. This is ‘love affair’ has lasted to the present day.

Like all love affairs it has had its ups and downs. I watched teachers that were friends pull away from each other. Some rose to great heights and others withered away in obscurity. I watched instructors I respected become role models and others make choices that would shame their students. In the end, I learned what I already knew, everyone was only human.

As a young adult, I left the martial arts for a short time. I started college, and entered police work. It was a new direction in my life, but it wasn’t long before martial arts took over the ‘recreational’ side of my life again. Hapkido and Pentjak-Silat became new interests. I was fascinated by the techniques that would allow me to control aggression without harming others. It was a period new growth and experimentation.  I had moved to a different state and became immersed in my avocation

In my early thirties I became the teacher and opened my own martial arts school part-time. It was moderately successful, but ultimately unfulfilling. Something was missing from the mix. I was continually worried that my students didn’t hold ‘my values’ and love of the art. When I realized that it was more about what I wanted than what they wanted, it was time to make a change.

I began to informally study oriental medicine, western physiology, history, and philosophy. I knew the how of my arts, but I wanted to know the why. For me to become a better teacher, I had to find the right balance for myself. These changes were helpful to my growth as a martial artist and as person.

My river changed again when I started a program for ‘at risk’ children through the police department where I worked and the local school districts. I was able to teach the arts I loved with a positive message. The program helped a number of children learn to make good life decisions, although there were some failures. When it was finally time for me to retire from the police department, I was able to pass on the program to the next generation. I felt that had built something that was lasting.

Shortly thereafter, time had come for me to go home. I ended up moving to no more than ten miles from where I had grown up and reconnecting with old cohorts. It was interesting to see who was still involved in the martial arts and who had moved on. Something had happened, all my friends hair had started to turn grey. No one looked exactly the same as when I had left so many odd years before.

Physical restrictions due to old injuries had taken their toll and I was no longer able teach on a daily basis without severe pain. I was limited to teaching classes once in awhile and doing seminars. It was humbling to realize that my body had betrayed me and that I was no longer same person (on the outside) who watched the adult class and longed to participate.

It hit me that I was midstream in my life and in my martial arts path. I was not an invalid, but I knew I would no longer be as quick, strong, or agile as I once was. In fact, I guessed that my body would most likely keep getting worse as I grew older. It was sobering and I was bemoaning this cruel twist of fate. I had finally matured in my art and my body wasn’t cooperating. Was youth really wasted on the young?

As I pondered these great questions and walked down the stairs to my basement, I heard a blood curdling scream. It was my daughter preparing for a black belt test. Feeling a bit chagrined, I sat down and spoke with her. She told me of her desire to learn and how much she wanted to teach. I heard my words coming from her mouth. A smile crossed my face and time slipped backwards for me. My daughter taught me something and I became the student again.

There is an old adage that as much as things change they still remain the same. My daughter Paige, who at the time of this writing is just now hitting her teen years, has spent most of her childhood involved in the martial arts. She has studied four different martial art styles, not all of which are the same as mine. She sees martial arts as a journey not a destination. An extremely healthy attitude for someone who is normally influenced by every fashion fad that comes along.

I fully expect to watch her grow and develop as a martial artist and as an individual for many years in to the future. For me, I realize the future still holds some surprises. I have learned that the path you seek might not be the one you were meant to take. It is okay to allow life to happen and to continue on roads that have no maps. I may not be doing as many jump spin kicks as I used to, but that doesn’t mean that a session of Qi Gong is out of the question.

The moral of the story is that everything changes. It doesn’t necessary become better or worse. Change is and life is. How we deal with those changes define us. I will always love the martial arts and find ways to stay involved because that is my passion. It doesn’t mean that I need to be the same person I was at twenty.  It does mean that I need to find new ways of expressing that passion.

The future is for our children and our students. If we give them good ethical and moral backgrounds to go with the physical skills we teach them, the future of our arts will take care of themselves.

Copyright 2007 Jeffrey W. Helaney

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