MIND-BODY
UNIFICATION
By Keith Vargo

It's a cliché that martial arts are a way of uniting the mind and body. This unity is supposed to somehow make you a better person. If you believe it, you're in good company, for some of the greatest martial artists of our time have subscribed to it. But if you don't understand it, you're not alone.

A martial art is a collection of movements practiced for the sake of fighting; this is what separates the martial arts from other physical arts. It1s the "body" referred to in our premise. Some people may practice the arts for exercise or aesthetics, but those reasons will always be secondary. The martial arts are primarily about fighting, or they1re about nothing at all.

That's because the martial arts also involve a deep devotion to an ideal-the "mind" of our premise. A martial artist becomes a good fighter to show that the ideal he holds precious is right and true. He demonstrates that by fighting and winning in competition or self-defense. Others then have a reason to believe in the principles he lives by and in the skills he1s developed. Conversely, if a martial artist cannot fight well, it casts doubt on his ideal. That's why unity of mind and body is so important. It really means unity of action and thought with the goal of keeping you and your ideal alive.

But the question remains: How does this make you a better person? Unity of mind and body balances the martial artist. It transforms the brute into a considerate person by lending reason to his actions. It tempers a passion for fighting with a need to do what's right. It also makes the philosophical person more real by lending action to his thoughts. His ideal becomes tangible in his movements. He becomes his ideal.

To some, this need for unity of mind and body may be unimportant. Some believe street self-defense is all that matters. They believe philosophy is a sham perpetuated by fools and fast-buck artists. That's a valid and valuable criticism because, in the martial arts, philosophy divorced from proven skill is self-destructive. But the fighter who has no philosophical teachings to reason by is equally self-destructive. Anyone who excels at hurting his fellow man must have an acute sense of right and wrong, or he will fall into ruin.

Indiscriminately hurting people obviously leads to alienation from the bulk of society. We assume that people around us have a basic respect for our well-being. They may not like us or even know us, but we trust they won't harm us. A brute cannot be trusted. On a whim, he breaks bodies and inspires fear and hatred. Who could befriend or even work with such a person? Who could love him?

A less obvious consequence of harm-without-reason is the self-hatred of those who inflict it. Excepting sociopaths, people feel guilt and shame over having hurt someone. That presents a problem for a person who likes fighting: The more he fights, the more he hurts others; the more he hurts others, the less he likes himself. This self-hatred eventually translates into further aggression in a vicious cycle that can lead to self-destruction.

The key to escaping or avoiding this cycle lies in thought and contemplation. Action makes a person who he is, but thought changes him and, consequently, the action he takes. So the salvation of the brute lies in understanding what1s good and right and true (i.e. philosophy). It's not something he pursues for leisure1s sake. He needs it to keep his soul at peace; he seeks it out of desperation.

This pattern is not typical in the contemporary martial arts, however. Many want to participate in an ideal through the ritualistic action of the arts. They want to feel the mysterious Tao (universal way) in the movements of tai chi chuan or the Buddha's enlightenment in the practice of kata. Actual fighting is the last thing on their minds.

This is noble but mistaken. Hurting people is wrong, and it's understandable that a thoughtful, sensitive person would find it distasteful. But the martial arts touch those ideals through the action of fighting. If a person wants to experience them, he must compete in some way, or he should find a different way to achieve enlightenment or harmony with the Tao.

About the author: Keith Vargo is a free-lance writer, researcher and martial arts instructor who currently lives in Japan.