Why It Sucks To Be The Wife Of A Martial Artist...
...by Kent Fung
Your husband never wants to see any movie anymore unless it
stars Jackie Chan, Jet Li, or Bruce Lee, or was directed by Akiro
Kurosawa, or made in Hong Kong. Martial-arts themed movies were probably
a big reason your husband decided to start training in the first place,
and you might even have enjoyed Jet Li's "Fist of Legend" the first or
second time he made you watch it. But you've now seen the ^%$!@% flick
302 times and counting, and you hate that you can now remember all the
dialogue, word for word.
Even if you liked chop-socky flicks before, they're ruined for you
now because every time a fight scene occurs, you're subject to constant
comments like, "That would never work in real life," or "What a
beautiful version of shiho-nage!" or "I'm faster than that guy, you
know" or "Let's rewind that. I want to see it again."
Odd-looking gadgets and gear now fill the house. Padded sparring
gear. Twenty-five different kinds of punching bags. Rattan arm rings.
And loads upon loads of exotic, menacing-looking weapons that make any
visitor to your home suspect that a serial killer is in residence. Your
significant other has channeled his innate male instinct for buying
random gadgets into the martial arts. Other men buy plasma TVs and hi-fi
equipment. Yours has a selection of butterfly knives, balisongs, and
crescent swords, which seem to exist solely so they can either collect
dust or destroy the furniture.
Your friends and relatives suspect you've turned into a raving harpy
who takes a frying pan to her husband's face on a regular basis. It
never fails: a few days before a big event - Thanksgiving dinner, your
office's holiday party, a family wedding - your husband will come home
from a class with a very visible and nasty-looking injury - a black eye
or a broken nose or a fat lip. It's nothing serious, and he almost never
gets even a scratch in class. But now, right before pictures will likely
be taken, even your father will wonder if his poor son-in-law is a
victim of spousal abuse.
Of course, that's assuming your husband actually shows up to said
event. You've lost track a long time ago of how many times he's been
late because he couldn't tear himself away from a post-class training
jam. You learn that if there's someplace he absolutely HAS to be, he
can't be allowed to train for at least 12 hours beforehand.
Six words: "Honey, let me show you something!" You come to dread
your husband's return from class, because he has almost always just
learned a really cool technique and wants to show it to you, for your
benefit, as if he was a dog dragging a dead rabbit home for your
approval. Of course, what he really wants to do is review the material
and delight in its sheer coolness factor. And since he just learned it,
he can't really control it yet. He'll promise that he won't ACTUALLY do
it or that it WON"T hurt. But you know better.
Remember when you always wanted to know, "what are you thinking
about?" Now you don't dare to ask because it's probably some
martial-arts topic, and you'll be treated to three-hour lecture,
complete with demonstrations, on whatever related idea he's playing
around with. Be careful what you wish for, indeed.
It embarrasses you to be seen in public with your husband because
he's always practicing hand techniques in his head. Of course, to you
and everyone else staring at you with a mixture of pity and revulsion,
his "techniques" just make him look like an escaped mental patient on
heavy doses of Thorazine.
Invisibility. At first your husband just went to class two nights a
week. Then he throws in a weekend class too. Then starts practicing
every day. Soon he's even leaving town to attend weekend seminars and
training camps. Before you know it, you're no longer sure if your
husband was just a figment of your imagination. (For some spouses, I
suppose this actually might be classified as a good thing.)
The infection can spread. Just when you've gotten used to items 1-9,
your resident idiot decides that you or the kids should start training.
"It can be a family thing," he says. But you know that he's just trying
to make it more acceptable for him to get even more obsessed with his
training and turn you all into freaks just him.
Rocks, Pebbles, Sand – As
A philosopher professor stood before his class and had some items in
front of him. When the class began, wordlessly he picked up a very large
and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with rock, rocks about 2”
in diameter. He then asked the students if the jar was full? They agreed
that it was.
So the professor then picked up box of pebbles and poured the pebbles
into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles, of course, rolled
into the open areas between the rocks. He then asked the students again if
the jar was full? They agreed it was.
The professor picked up a box of sand and poured the sand in the jar. Of
course, the sand filled up everything else. He then asked the students once
more if the jar was full? The students replied with a unanimous YES!
The professor then produced two cans of beer from under the table and
proceeded to pour the beer into the jar – effectively filling the empty
space between the sand. The students laughed.
“Now,” said the professor as the laughter subsided, “I want you to
recognize that this jar represents your life. The rocks are the important
things – your family, your partner, your health, and your children – things
that if every thing else was lost and only they remained, your life would
still be full.
The pebbles are the other things that matter, like your job, your house,
and your car.
The sand is everything else. The small stuff.” “If you put the sand into
the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the
rocks. The same thing goes for your life. If you spend all your time and
energy on the small stuff, you will never have the room for the things that
are important to you.
Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play
with your children. Take the time to get medical checkup. Take your
partner out dancing. There will always be time to go to work, clean the
house, give a dinner party and fix the disposal. Take care of the rock
first - the things that really matter.” Set your priorities. The rest is
just sand. One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the beer
was for. The professor smiled, “I’m glad you asked. It just goes to show
you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a
couple of beers.”
This story was given to me from a student
The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I was
taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my reaction,
she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting
question, and I would ponder it, and let her know. Old Age, I decided, is a
gift. I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I
have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my
body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am
taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror (who looks like my
mother!), but I don't agonize over those things for long.
I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving
family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become
more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own
friend. I don't chide myse lf for eating that extra cookie, or for not
making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but
looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy,
to be extravagant. I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too
soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM
and sleep until noon?
I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60&70's, and if
I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love ... I will. I will walk
the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will
dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances
from the jet set. They, too, will get old. I know I am sometimes forgetful.
But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I ev entually
remember the important things. Sure, over the years my heart has been
broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a
child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But
broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A
heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray,
and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my
face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair
could turn silver. As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You
care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore.
I've even earned the right to be wrong. So, to answer your question, I
like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am
not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time
lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall
eat dessert every single day. (If I feel like it)
MAY OUR FRIENDSHIP NEVER COME APART ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S STRAIGHT FROM
MAY YOU ALWAYS HAVE A RAINBOW OF SMILES ON YOUR FACE AND IN YOUR HEART
FOREVER AND EVER!
People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime...
When you know which one it is, you will know what to do for that person.
When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you
have expressed. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to
provide you with guidance and support, To aid you physically, emotionally
or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend and they are. They are there
for the reason you need them to be. Then, without any wrongdoing on your
part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to
bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk
away. Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand. What we must
realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled, their work is
The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on.
Some people come into your life for a SEASON, because your turn has come to
share, grow or learn. They bring you an experience of peace or make you
laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give
you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it, it is real. But only for a
LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons, things you must build
upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept
the lesson, love the person and put what you have learned to use in all
other relationships and areas of your life. It is said that love is blind
but friendship is clairvoyant...