Hubris
Noun
1. Overbearing pride or presumption.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:
Hubris or hybris (Greek ‛′Υβρις), according to its modern usage, is exaggerated pride or self-confidence, often resulting in fatal retribution. In Ancient Greek, however, hubris referred to a reckless disregard for the rights of another person resulting in social degradation for the victim.[1]
Aristotle defined hubris as follows:
Hubris consists in doing or saying things that cause shame to the victim, not in order that anything may happen to you, nor because anything has happened to you, but merely for your own gratification. Hubris is not the requital of past injuries; this is revenge. As for the pleasure in hubris, its cause is this: men think that by ill-treating others they make their own superiority the greater... a hubristic act is one that inflicts undeserved shame on the victim for the gratification of the perpetrator.
In its modern usage, hubris denotes overconfident pride and arrogance; it is often associated with a lack of knowledge, interest in, and exploration of history, combined with a lack of humility. An accusation of hubris often implies that suffering or punishment will follow, and the proverb "pride goes before a fall" is thought to sum up the modern definition of hubris.
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Okay, we've taken care of the academic part...
I've recently taken up martial arts training again after a long hiatus, specifically kung-fu. Several years ago..., well okay, two decades ago, I studied tae kwon do, a Korean form of karate. I eventually earned my black belt while in high school, then slowly dropped out of practice, spending more time in theatre. The parties were much better.
My freshman year of college I was required to take a number of general education courses to ensure I had a "broad-based" education. One such requirement entailed a phys. ed-type course. Since I wasn't about to take ballroom dancing or play any 'real' sports, I signed up for the only obvious choice: shotokan karate. When I advised the class instructor that I had studied karate for several years, he made me his teaching assistant. Probably the easiest 'A' I ever earned, and likely the only 'A' I earned that year...
The thing is, with the exception of breaking up a few bar fights and tossing a number of drunk, stoned or coked-up individuals from whatever drinkery I was working at, I've lost pretty much every "fight" I've ever been in. It's not that I didn't know my shit. Hell I had to spar two black belts and a red belt for over three minutes as just one part of my black belt test. And let me tell you, folks, that's a real muthafucka!
So I knew my shit, I could easily land a side kick on a 6 ft tall guy's chin and follow it up with a jump back turn inside crescent kick. I had skilz. It's just that none of those few actual fights were serious enough to break out the ol' whoop-ass on my opponent. I just was never in a life-or-death situation. It just wasn't ever that important. And I'm not trying to brag here. In fact, just the opposite.
See, the real benefit, the knowledge I gained, the 'thing' I took away from all that training and hard work wasn't so much about the physical aspects of martial arts, but rather the mental. It was more about the self-disclipline, self confidence and self awareness that came with the training. The mental focus, clarity and inner drive that I developed during those years in the do-chang continue to serve me to this day. And when asked whether I still remember any of my training (i.e., "Can you still kick ass?" -that sort of thing), I usually respond,
"It wasn't about learning to kick ass, it's about learning how to avoid and stay out of the fight in the first place."
More often than not, they just get this odd, blank look on their face, and move on.
So, a couple of weeks ago, I was in class at my new school, and on this particular evening, Guro (pronounced 'guru') was leading the class through some ground fighting exercises. This evening was notable because up until then, I had never attended a class led by Guro. Rather, the classes I had attended so far were led by sihing, one of the secondary instructors. That's promounced see-hing. Now sihing is a pretty cool cat, he's several years younger than I, but he's down with old school arcade games (Double Dragon, Defender, that sort of thing) and likes to rock out with some heavy metal during the workout (Black Sabbath, Metallica, etc.). Anyway, he's the one who ran me through the introductory sessions before I was accepted into the school, and since that time, I'd say we've bonded on a basic, guy-type level. Nothing big, but good times.
Anyway, Guro's been working us pretty hard and stops the exercise to give us a few pointers. While listening and watching, I take the moment to catch my breath. Suddenly and subtly, like a small blip on the radar, Guro slides something odd in to her instructions:
"...and then after the roundkick, you can swing your leg over to the outside of his leg, then bring yourself up off the ground- sihing, fix that please. Now once you're back up, you step back up agaisnt your opponent, since he's off balance, and plant an elbow into the throat.
Jacques, when I'm speaking, I want you to hold your hands together in front of you. Sihing, I asked you to fix that, now drop and give my 100 push ups."
Suddenly, looking around the room, I realize that I'm standing with my hands on my hips, rather than clasped in front of my in a traditional, Eastern "at-ease" stance. Oh shit...
Guro continues the brief lecture, finishing out the next three moves of the routine while the students regain their breath. This literally took maybe three minutes. And as she's winding down, sihing jumps up from the floor, obviously winded, but still able to thank guro with a smile on his face.
Meanwhile, I stood next to him, feeling a bit like Gomer Pyly from "Full Metal Jacket."
Later that same session, I was working through the routine with sihing, and threw a forward kick from the ground. I felt it connect with sihing, but didn't actually see the hit- we were both on the ground wraped up pretty tight, and I couldn't see. It wasn't hard, or terribly fast, and I didn't sense much of a reaction from my partner, so I continued on. A moment later, guro calls another break in the action and starts giving another pointer to a pair in the center of the room. She glances down toward my end of the gym and stops.
"You all right sihing?"
"Yeah, I'm good."
"You're bleeding," Guro points out. I look over my shoulder, and sure enough, looks like I bloodied sihing's nose with that kick. After a couple of seconds, sihing realizes the flow's a bit heavier than he first thought. So he jogs off to the back room to get a towel.
Guro finishes the example, and starts the class back up again. Sihing isn't back yet, so I stand, at ease with my hands properly clasped, and watch my peers as they exercise.
I swear to God, I was oozing the ineptness of Vincent D'Onofrio's bumbling private in Mr. Kurbrick's seminal Vietnam War film.
Once sihing returned with the bleeding stopped and several antiseptic wipes in hand, guro called us all to attention to finish the evening's session. After we bowed out, I stepped over to sihing and helped him clean up his blood from the floor. I apologized, of course, and he said it was no big deal. Which was cool of him, but really the only way he could respond.
Because it wasn't the injury sustained, but rather the lesson learned...
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Next time, I'll try to remember my brevity, and leave the fortune cooking wisdom at home.
