I’m lame, I saw the violence, not the art in martial arts

Poorva Paksha

For a pacifist, I do quite a lot of hitting, kicking, choking, and as much slamming of others to the ground as possible. It goes both ways. As I write this, I’m suffering from a severe intramuscular hematoma, the result of being repeatedly kicked in the leg during a recent Muay Thai sparring match. I’ve graduated from a wheelchair to crutches, but I won’t be able to walk unsupported for another few weeks. Surgery is inevitable. The docs say fighting is off limits for the next few months.

Good. I don’t like to fight. I said I’m a pacifist.

I’m new to martial arts. After a decade of competing in endurance sports -- triathlons: open-water swimming, then long-distance cycling, followed by a marathon run -- sports completely free of violence, I wanted new challenges. I began with Muay Thai, the art of eight limbs; that is, you learn to strike powerfully with fists, elbows, knees and feet. After gaining competence in striking, I added Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, an indescribably exhausting and intense martial art employing grappling rather than striking. Both these martial arts can be violent. Extremely violent.

There are plenty of ways that you can hurt a man/

And bring him to the ground/

You can beat him, you can cheat him, you can treat him bad/

And leave him when he’s down.

Queen’s funky mega-hit Another one bites the dust is played as the walk-on music for a lot of fighters heading to the ring. It was actually slotted as the theme song for the Rockymovies, until it got replaced by Survivor’s Eye of the Tiger. Powerful songs about the thrill of the fight, focusing on victory, amping up the crowd.

But I was always put off by the violence of it all. Before starting to learn combat sports, I could never watch them. Couldn’t watch boxing, thugs mindlessly clobbering one another unconscious. And although I was myself learning the main disciplines of Mixed Martial Arts, striking and grappling, I could never watch gruesome MMA matches either.

Two short years of training changed that. The more I knew about technique, skill, the less violence I saw in combat sports. Now I watch MMA. But what I am watching when I watch these matches is not the violence that I used to see. It is the art. Martial arts are arts. Profoundly artistic arts.

As a pacifist committed to non-violence, I struggle through the irony of engaging in the art of violence. But these martial arts have traditionally been cultivated in Buddhist cultures valuing ahimsa -- in fact, as in the case of Shaolin Kung Fu, directly within Buddhist monasteries espousing maitri, or loving kindness.

Mornings spent in maitri meditation, afternoons spent cracking femurs.

Another one bites the dust/Another one bites the dust/

And another one gone, and another
one gone/

Another one bites the dust.

I’ve studied Buddhist philosophy for decades. But I have learned something from bloodying others and getting bloodied myself that only combat sports can teach. It is this: I’m not on crutches because of violence. On the contrary, it is because of my misapplied pacifism. I have till now refused to give myself over to the art beyond the violence. Have not allowed myself to practice the art of marital arts. A grave error that has resulted in gratuitous suffering and the need for surgery.

While sparring, I’ve been so preoccupied with not wanting to hurt my opponent that I’ve made a lot of mistakes – and ended up getting myself hurt, and even my opponent. My best sparring partners transcend this preoccupation. Their eyes change during the match. They fight as well as they can, expecting the same from me. Willing participants who know the risks, we seek to test ourselves against a worthwhile opponent. The ring is not a place of friendship; it is a combat zone where different rules apply. Stuck in theory instead of informed by practice, I ignorantly refused to follow these rules. But it’s not maitri toward my opponent, as I mistakenly believed; it’s insult. Fixated on the violence, I betrayed the art.

So that’s where things stand: a situation that has led to my inability to stand. I have a few months of convalescence before fighting again. When I do fight next, my aim will be to get in the zone; to background the violence and foreground the art. I owe that to the martial arts, and I owe it to my friend…I mean, to my opponent.

But I’m ready, yes I’m ready for you/

I’m standing on my own two feet/

Out of the doorway the bullets rip/

Repeating to the sound of the beat…

Another one bites the dust.