Why We Fight

There is a wonderful scene in the movie, “A Christmas Story,” where Ralphie, having been beleaguered by the yellow-eyed bully of the neighborhood for just too long, finally gets pissed off enough to charge him, knock him down and thrash the bastard into a bloodied disbelief. The fear turning to anger and adrenalin rush are contagious. They evoke a common experience in a movie already  briming with nostalgia. I’ve been there. That was me being chased by a bully, turning suddenly manic and acquiring a supernatural strength and fearlessness.

It must have been about 4th grade at Washington School when Buzzy and Mert and a few others began to delight in pelting the wimpiest of us with rocks. If you were stupid enough to get anywhere near them at recess you might get pushed down and pounded. These were our formative years. Buzzy seemed unbelievably large and Mert, well, she could strike terror into anyone (could scare the pink off a pig). Mert may have weighed three hundred pounds and came from a poor family of equally obese parents and siblings. I once tried to appease her by going to her birthday party but nobody else came. That reminds me of the time I gave a Halloween party and nobody came. But I digress unpardonably.

Anyway, I did a “Ralphie” one recess and jumped on a kid who was taunting me, nearly putting him in the hospital. An onslaught of adrenalin doesn’t give you any common sense. It’s probably scarier than worrying about the Buzzys of the world. So what has this to do with Tai Chi Cuan?

Back in New Mexico, a Tai Chi class mate told the story of his encounter with a would be robber. He was practicing his form in a park one evening and a youth (read punk) accosted him with a knife demanding all his money. Now, you’re not the smartest person in the world to try to rob someone who going through a  martial arts routine. Brian probably could have broken the kid’s arm but he calmly stood still and said, “Gee, sorry, I don’t have any money,” pointing to his backpack. The punk rifled through it and left with a scowl. That was Tai Chi.

I often wonder if I could prevail against an assailant  should the need arise. Of course you could ask him to punch you very very slowly. But could I step aside to avoid the punch, meet it, stick and redirect his energy to send him flying? Or her? Having at least some knowledge of self defense and a smidgen of practice might give one a dangerous overconfidence but at least the fear (fear of fear itself?) can no longer propel you into rage and thus into unwise violence.

Hopefully I will never know. And hopefully, I’ll never meet Mert in a dark alley!