There was a time when someone was really laying into me verbally. They were hitting me where it hurt: digging up all of my insecurities and what’s worse, they were doing it in front of all of my friends.
I was 15 or 16, standing outside of school on break and waiting to go back into class. I remember having a conversation with myself while this person was using me as their own verbal punching bag.
The conversation I was having with myself went something like this: you have to stop him now because no one is going to do it for you. Yelling at him will only start an argument, kicking him will start a fight, slapping him would shock him and probably make him laugh, punching him in the face could start a fight or worse, get blood everywhere. I knew I needed to stop it in a way so that he wouldn’t try anything again.
I smiled at him, and punched him very carefully in the side of the throat. He went down and he never bullied me, or anyone else again.
Oddly enough, a few months later he and I were friends.
He even joined the drama class (one of the things he thought was so hilarious about me just the semester before).
That was the only time I could remember that I ever punched anyone without giving warning or without someone else attacking me first. A couple of years later, fighting became a way of life for me.
I began to learn three different martial arts, and it saved my life on more than one occasion. There was a time when I would fight for money, which was a different thing because everyone involved was in agreement to fight for sport.
But outside of that, I found myself having to put an end to physical altercation. I even would tell myself (proudly) “you don’t start fights, you only end them.”
Do you want to do this one at a time, or do you want to try and fight me all at once?
This became a phrase that would spill out of my mouth by second nature.
Groups of 2-4 people were trying to fight me so often that one night after a fight when I was 21 or 22, I asked my friend, Joe, why he thinks groups of people are always trying to fight me. He thought it was because I was big and that most guys feel like they have something to prove.
I didn’t know that until he told me. He told me that I likely take my size for granted: I’m 6’3” and at the time weighed a lean 220-230. Apparently that’s big to most people, but just feels like everyday life to me.
He explained that his whole life, he’d been pushed to different physical goals by coaches, teachers, parents or whoever. That made sense to me because I had experienced a similar thing my whole life as well. But, what he added was that for most people, these things that come easy to me, a lot of other people have to work really hard at.
Joe didn’t know this, but I grew up obese and had to work really hard throughout high school to lose over 100 lbs. In my own eyes, I was just an overweight, un-athletic kid who wasn’t very good at anything.
What pushed me over the edge in high school when I punched that kid in the throat was when he started laying into my size and appearance.
This was the first time that I was able to articulate to myself the direct connection between violence and insecurity.
Learn From the Jedi, Not From the Sith
I know it’s hip to love Lord Vader, but I mean, the dude build the death star. Not sure if you remember, but that destroyed an ENTIRE PLANET. Not exactly the type of person to root for in my opinion.
I do have a point - don’t worry.
After high school, I went on walkabout. I went to community college for a couple of semesters, broke up with my high school girlfriend, started branching out and making friends from all over the place.
At one point I had 4 or 5 different groups of friends, none of whom knew each other. I had a group of Christian friends from growing up at church, a whole bunch of friends from shows that I’d hang out with and go to shows with, I had friends who threw house parties, different friends who were all artists and creators, and another group of friends who weren’t in any gangs, but we ended up doing some really sketchy stuff with some of the local gangs.
I felt like I had split personalities. But, I had no idea how to cope with it.
In 2012, I somehow afforded two tickets to Hawaii, gave one of them to a person I was interested in dating at the time and we went with my best friends Mike, Bekah and Ray. On this trip, I fell off a cliff and broke my spine.
During the next year of recovery, I learned a lot about myself. I learned a lot about who I am without my body.
At this point, my knowledge of history was high school level, plus a few books I picked up at the library - nothing too scholarly at all though. I did have a huge knowledge and devotion to the Star Wars movies and universe, though.
I remember pondering - meditating on really - the way the Jedi approached fighting. The Jedi did not go out and start fights, pick fights or even be fast to fight. They were there to put an end to conflict by absolute force if necessary.
I remember wanting to be able to wrap my mind around ushering in peace by using violence. While I was letting my spine heal, I picked up a book called “Star Wars and Philosophy.” This was the first philosophy book I had ever read and at the time would have told you that Plato was an explorer from the middle ages. The fact that I didn’t know who Plato was still makes me laugh!
The authors and editors of the book made comparisons between the themes and characters in Star Wars to historical philosophical traditions. The section on Yoda and the Stoics is what set me toward philosophical practice for the rest of my life.
I began to try and wrap my mind around taking seriously that which is within my control. That, in a very real sense, if you find yourself being in the midst of conflict and it is within your power to do something about it, it is good for one to be as prepared as they can be for these situations.
Yoda taught Luke to focus on his training, to focus on being sure of himself rather than letting the fear of losing his friends draw him into a battle for the sake of battle. The goal for Yoda and his historical counterparts, the Stoics, is to understand that our individual goals ought to be serving something beyond ourselves.
Some people take a fatalistic interpretation of this sort of thing, which is to say something like, your goals ought to align with what you’re purposed to do, or something like that. The assumption is that God or some other force has already written your life, it’s just about not fighting fate.
I think that’s a lazy way to go through life. Whether you believe in God, or whatever else, human choice is one of the most powerful forces in the universe. To give up your choice is to give up your power - no matter how limited your choices may seem.
Most of us learn to view ourselves in a very low way. We think so lowly of ourselves and begin to think that our lives, our choices and our actions are so insignificant, that we don’t need to always engage in reality around us. What will be, will be.
But, life is actually significant, and the freedom of choice that even a child possesses has the power to rock the universe. Life before death.
Your life and all of its constituent choices weren’t insignificant, they actually created new realities. I’ve found that it is not the weight of the choices that most of us are missing, it’s simply the lack of recognition that we are actively involved in each step of our own lives. We do indeed have autonomy.
Because of this, when Luke asks Yoda if his friends are going to live or die, Yoda replies, “difficult to see. Always in motion is the future.” Because what we choose to do CREATES the future - choice A leads to a slightly different future that choice B and choice C and choice F might change it more significantly.
So how do we make choices? Or, how do we make the RIGHT choices?
How do we know when to stay and finish our training, or to leave to attempt to save our friends? How are we supposed to make these judgements?
Conformity Is The Defeat Of Purpose, Progress And Self-Development
I learned that what you can do is just as important as what you will do. I learned that what we are drawn to, and what life has shown us to expect should not be ignored.
Almost every fight I had been involved in (other than the arranged and fair bouts), was in defense of someone else. I was being attacked, others were being attacked, etc. I found myself needing to be of use in the aid of others. I know I’ve saved at least two peoples lives, for example.
We have a tendency to want to make truth universal, and it just isn’t. It can’t be. The only universal about truth is that truth obtains in circumstances that allow truth to obtain. The actual occurrence of truth looks different every time it obtains. It is true that my coffee is on the desk as I write this blog - this isn’t universal - it’s just a fact of my actual experience.
So, to be prepared for violence might not be a universal truth, but it has been the truth of my life. I’ve found that it is my responsibility to be prepared for these circumstances. And, with more and more experience, the less and less physical altercations occur, but it has still been a fact of my experience - a truth of my life.
Our lives are truly individual, yet we will find companions along the way: Kindred spirits.
And, what I can only imagine as grooves in the universe don’t exactly guide our lives in a fatalistic way, but can help hone our truth. Or, what Deleuze refers to as ‘planes of immanence.’ It is to recognize that we are not unique to the universe. That the millions and millions of choices made by those before us have set certain futures into motion that we are now a part. That we are both a result of what came before and the cause of what is to come in the future.
We are someone else’s future. Unfortunately, that means we might have to pick up some of the pieces and clean up the mess. This means that there might be entire classes of people affected by certain ways of viewing the world. What many of us often refer to as “out of our control,” are these things that we are now just having to clean up.
I found myself surrounded by extremely oppressed and marginalized people who were struggling to find meaning in the ways that they had the ability to. I found myself being raised by people who did not recognize their association to these circumstances and chose to take a position of superiority rather than camaraderie.
The story became one of elevating one’s self rather than becoming comfortable with one’s own nature. I was taught that I ought to work to change myself rather than develop the potential deep within. I was raised in a culture that valued conformity more than it valued learning to spot the talents of its members.
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