your partner waits quietly at a distance. If you like, you could try out that mudra, breathing and focusing yourself on a sense of resolute strength.
When you feel ready, let go of any mudra and bring your hands up in front of you in a warning or warding off posture. Let those hands feel strong, palms facing your training partner. The sense is that they cannot move you. You will not pursue or attack them, but you will not allow them to push you.
Your hands coming up signals your partner to begin putting a little social pressure on you. Not physical pressure—just social pressure.
Remember that the point is to build success memories. Your partner’s job is to put just enough social pressure on you that you can feel the temptation to cave in or back up, or you are able to hold your ground and stay strong.
Start small. Have your partner just give you a dirty look. Hold your ground.
If that’s easy, signal them to say a few mildly rude words, or call you weak. Hold your ground. No need to reply. No need to move, either forward or backward. If you must do something, simply nod slowly and give a small confident smile.
If you are completely succeeding, your partner could even stalk over to you and point their finger at you, or crowd into your space. They are not to touch you in this exercise, so no need to defend or engage them, physically or verbally. Stay confident. Stay strong. Smile slightly and nod slowly when needed.
This exercise is physically simple, but it is not easy.
Hombu Dojo, Dayton, Ohio, 2007: “What concerns me for you, Kevin, is that you are not accustomed to holding firm under the kind of pressure you are going to experience with this project.”
An-Shu Hayes and I were sitting alone together at his martial arts school after classes had ended for the night. I was out visiting for advanced martial arts training toward 4th degree black belt, but I had a secret agenda too. I had recently been contacted by the organizers of an upcoming visit by His Holiness the 17th Karmapa, one of the four heads of Tibetan Buddhism. It would be His Holiness’ first visit to America in this incarnation and they had asked me to head the security team for his public talk.
Thousands of students of the 16th Karmapa would be there to see him, plus the possibility of protests or worse from Chinese forces because the 17th Karmapa had escaped as a teenager from a carefully groomed life in China. Facing organizing a team of over 60 direct reports to secure a building of over 50,000 square feet, with over 30 entrances and four different security organizations consulting, I knew I was in deep. I turned to my teacher for help based on his experience running personal security for His Holiness the Dalai Lama, particularly during the time that His Holiness won the Nobel Prize in 1989.
An-Shu Hayes was helping me understand that the problem was even bigger than the logistics. “You are very intelligent, so you will no doubt have a good plan. But that won’t be enough. Your plan will be undermined by well-meaning and powerful people who have their own desire to make contact with His Holiness. Your plan may even be undermined or overridden by the very people who asked you to make a plan, as they cave under the pressure of politics and money. How will you respond?”
He was speaking from direct experience I knew. Since it was impossible to know exactly what would go wrong, it was impossible to answer his question directly, so I asked a question of my own. “How should I prepare for that kind of pressure?”
He nodded. “The right question. It will be very difficult. To do a good job, to be strong but still diplomatic and intelligent, you will need a strength based in purpose. Your first step is finding and discovering your purpose. Why are you doing this?”
His question surprised me. Why was I doing it? It seemed obvious that when someone offers you such an important position, and the chance to be a part of such a big adventure, you say yes. However, that seemed like a very shallow answer now that it was being consciously examined. It certainly wouldn’t be enough to hold fast when confronted by mega-celebrities, powerful politicians, super wealthy patrons and federal agents demanding that I yield.
I then realized that I was doing it to follow in my teacher’s footsteps. I had always carried a certain awe that he got to bodyguard for the Dalai Lama, a man I considered one of the greatest spiritual leaders of our time. The adventure, the behind-the-scenes access, and the secret agent power of such a role was a fantasy right out of a movie, and I thought I would never get to have that experience. Suddenly the opportunity had come to me, and I wanted to live a piece of my teacher’s story.
Of course, he knew that. Before I could say anything, he continued. “You can’t live Stephen Hayes’ life. I was the only one who could live the life of Stephen Hayes. Many people try to go back and do what I did, but they can’t, because it was a moment in time and space. That moment is gone, replaced with the moment we have now. But you can live your life, and it can be just as big or bigger. So now you have this chance. What are you going to do with it? What does it mean to you?”
His statement was a tremendous gift of acknowledgment and freedom. I was inspired by his life, but I would have to find meaning, contribution, and adventure in my own. I closed my eyes right there at the table and took a deep breath. We had been meditating together for years by now, so he knew what I was doing and I felt comfortable taking a moment.
I tried to clear away all the fantasies and hopes and focus on what felt important about this chance to provide security for the 17th Karmapa. I felt a real connection to Tibetan Buddhism, based on my studies with An-Shu Hayes and the vows I had taken in that lineage. Deep down, it wasn’t the celebrity of the Karmapa that was important to me. I knew that I could make a difference in bringing our spiritually-intelligent martial tradition to the scene of His Holiness’ teachings. I knew that the world would be a better place if I got involved, because I had the advanced dignitary protection training and real-life experience from my teacher backing me up.
I opened my eyes and found that his eyes were opening at the same moment, seamlessly emerging from meditation with me. “I want to do it because I can make it a better experience for everyone. The Karmapa will teach more easily, the people will learn more easily, and if there are troublemakers, they will be dealt with both more effectively and more compassionately if I am leading the team.”
Though I was certain of my answer, I enjoyed the validation of the warm smile that spread across his face. “That‘s right. That’s the motivation that can hold fast. Maybe you can do it.”
CHAPTER 5
Mental Strength
Hombu Dojo, Dayton, OH, 2002: “The mind is very responsive to what it perceives,” An-Shu told us. “In fact, that’s its job, to respond to and make sense of your perceptions.”
I remembered detailed studies we had done in the past on how the mind analyzes perceptions and experiences, creating an inner truth to interpret the world.
“One of the things your mind experiences is what comes out of your own mouth,” An-Shu continued. “Think about what you say. What worldview does it reinforce?”
“That reminds me of a child who says ‘I can’t’ and proves it true,” I commented.
“Yes,” said An-Shu, “and when that child turns into an adult, sometimes the story doesn’t change. The language may get more complex, but after all the tales of flat tires, dogs that ran away, and factory layoffs, it comes down to the same thing. By focusing on the problems of life, a grown adult can convince themselves of their own inability.”
“But there are real problems in life,” said another student in the group. “If I lose my job, there are real consequences that may interfere with my ability to do certain things.”
“Absolutely!” said the An-Shu. “That is so important to acknowledge. By changing our language, we are not denying cause and effect. We are not pretending that nothing is wrong or that we are unaffected by change. That would be stupid. But