Home
About
Apple
Career
Experiences
General
Graphics
Hardware
History
Humor
Interface
Networking
OS
Opinion
Politics
Programming
Quotes
Reviews
Security
Software
Sound
Thought
Web
Cheap International
Airfare Online
Wachovia online banking
Get Free Coupons Online
Finding the perfect
discount hot tub
Payday Loans
Stock Trading Online
Stuffed Animals
Smart Investing Online
|
|
Keeping the Tiger behind the Bamboo
Ignorance is power?
By: David K. Every
|
Kind:
Created:
Size: |
Article
2003-05-23
9 KB |
|
|
 |
 elcome Grasshopper, to Dave's Dojo (Karate Studio). Just a little rambling life lesson, that I once learned, and often ignore. This is one of my little martial arts instructor stories.
           
So there I was, teaching away, minding my own business, and I was willing to get friendly and let my students know whatever they wanted about me. My instructor came up to me and said, "you've got to keep the tiger behind the bamboo".
I was thinking, "Just what in the name of Buddha's BM's does that mean?" Fortunately, I was going to learn.
My instructor explained, that humans fear and thus healthily respect the unknown. The product of millennia of natural selection and natures little way of killing off the daring and those that are fearless; e.g. stupid and reckless. I'm sure some humans would say, "I wonder if that big fuzzy thing wants to be my friend". To which the big fuzzy thing often replies "chomp, crunch, gulp... tastes like chicken". I think I had a few cats that happened to as well. Anwyays, after a while humans, and all animals for that matter, get bred to fear that which we don't know, just to be on the safe side - as fearlessness is chlorine for the gene pool, and whoever is left is much more wisely distrusting and cowardly.
The point being that if humans know what something is, or someone's capabilities, they will always have a much less healthy respect for it, than if it is something that they don't know. Ever hear the phrase, "Familiarity breeds contempt"? These are the kinds of things that is referring to.
Now of course I was left to figure out what today's little nugget of mixed metaphors and Oriental philosophy lesson applied to. Obviously, to me at the time, the lesson was about showing people who and what you are, and your true abilities. This became all the more obvious, as like most lessons this was repeated over and over again, over the years.
What my instructor wanted was for me to almost never spar in public any more, and to stop doing my forms publicly as often, to stop discussing my personal life and being their friends; and to become far more mysterious. I can be quiet, and so this wasn't a huge stretch for me (believe it or not).
So he was telling me, "You can use that fear of the unknown for your own ends and success". If you leave the students to wonder at what you can do, and wonder about your personal life, and you get quiet and listen a lot and talk little, you become an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, covered by a conundrum. What they build up about you and your real life and your abilities (from their position of ignorance), is probably going to be far bigger than what really is. Especially if their concepts are supported by an occasional display or well placed story (by others) or example of prowess; they are always left hungry and wanting more.
The old, "never let them see you sweat, or get angry, or show pain". The pain thing was true enough. Often some brute would lose control or slip, or get mad and get a cheap shot in. The result was usually a big grin, and a "good one", and then I'd come right back like it didn't hurt; while inside you're thinking, "I got to go poop out my spleen", or, "is the nose still on the front of my face, or is it next to my ear?" That was part ego, but mostly it was just that sparring was mental and spirit; you could win the match right there, because you could take it more than they did. And the next day they didn't remember your pain but your immunity to pain, and they certainly had a few throbbing reminders of their own pain; thus they learned the costs of fighting.
    
The Military often has their equivalent as well; "The Captain doesn't eat with the crew".
Again, same concept. The crew has health admiration for the Captain, and are somewhat in awe. When they see the Captain poking himself in the eye with his fork, because he missed his pie-hole while shoveling food like a slob, and belching like a bassoon, he can only go down a few pegs in mystique and etiquette. Thus the Captain rarely eats with the crew, and when he does, he is on his best behavior; after all he is not just a hungry slob, but he is representing the rank, his duty, his service and his country - an Officer, a gentleman, and all that.
Now I'm not 100% sure I agree with all that. I mean I do agree with it conceptually. It is true. Management and leadership books teach similar things. You don't get ahead by being your subordinates friends and all that. And there have been many people that I respected, that I got to respect less and less as I got to know them and their true characters. So on that side of things, it is true. But there's another side.
If you fail to live up to others expectations; and you are all too flawed, then the less that others know about you, the better. But if you can live up to, or even exceed their expectations, then there's no harm in letting them see the kitty.
I remember I became somewhat a legend, when early on in my training, I'd had a hairline fracture in my arm (and didn't know it), and was doing some techniques, and my arm snapped like a dried twig. I mean about as loud as a breaking pencil, and the bone bulged out (didn't pierce the skin), and so on. The class stopped, and I saw jaws drop as they looked over and realized what was happening. Just sheer reflex, I twisted my arm back and pulled on the wrist, which set the ulna. It felt fine, and I was thinking, "that didn't break, it was just a funny monkey-bump/muscle knot and a weird ligament/joint snap". Or maybe I was just denial. I said to my instructor, "It's OK, I can go on". This was the British officer equivalent is to saying, "oh, that smarts" in a distracted voice, when your arm has just been torn off by a mortar round. The class was still agape and couldn't believe what was happening. Fortunately for me, he said, "go to the hospital". Which I did, and it was broken.
I wasn't being heroic or stupid (OK, maybe a little stupid), it was just that when you do something really bad, the endorphins kick in, and you don't feel it much. Honestly, I'd felt hurt much more doing other little things like stubbing/dislocating a toe, or jamming/dislocating a finger. So I was just heroic because the full consequences of what had happened, hadn't set in yet. I was much more aware of it later, and the next few weeks with the dull incessant throbbing in my arm made me want to run over small things just to get my aggressions out.
After that, I worked out much harder, to make sure that wouldn't ever happen again. (It did, but that's another story). But the point was that I had really high expectations for myself. And while there was some ego involved in not letting myself (or others) down, it made me try much harder and become much better than I would have otherwise. I set an example, and tried hard, and so I could be flawed occasionally and still keep my status and esteem. When I failed, I admitted it, and tried harder. I never asked people to do things I wouldn't try to do. And so on. Lead by example, rather than the aloof king.
 
Once I'd achieved my position at the top of the dog-heap, it was generally wiser to no longer participate, since participation would lead to an eventual loss; thus the only way to go was down. So opt out and stay at the top. Fighters do this by only fighting those that they can beat. Others do it by being "above" others. However, I didn't get to where I was by being meek, or striving for mediocrity. I didn't want the symbolism of being seen as the best, I wanted the substance of doing my best. And by competing hard, it kept me on my toes, and made me better than if I rested on my laurels and reputation. Of course I lasted 10 years there, and my instructor is still there; so it really matters what you're striving for. But you can't strive for it, unless you understand it.
The point that I learned was if you want to be seen as a good, intimidating, mysterious person; then my all means, keep the tiger behind the bamboo. Become opaque and you have an advantage. Hearing the tiger pacing and growling and snuffling around on the other side of the bamboo thicket raises a lot more healthy fear and respect in them, than if they actually see the tiger itself. This works in many leadership positions; whether CEO, boss, Martial Arts instructor, and so on. It is a useful tool you can use to your advantage.
If you want to be all that you can be, and actually be the high example of humanity that others respect, or be as good as you think you are (or want to be); then you have to put it all out there. Let them see and know who you are, and what your abilities are. That means that you'll have to work much harder on yourself so that you don't fall below their or your expectations. This will lower you in some of their eyes, and raise you in others. Trying to live up to expectations will drive you to be a much better person; instead of just making them think you are.
 Format for Printing  Mail
|
|
|
|
