No Pain, No Gain: The Art of Healing, the Medicine of Forgiving, Tales from the Shadow Manifesto
The Birth of Self-Love: The Art of Mercy, Goddess Kuan Yin
> Doc “Lost” Samurai Sam>
I grew up in Japan, but I was part Korean. There, you are bullied, just because you are another race. I was confused. My mother explained to me one day after I was crying because I had been beaten. She said I was not Japanese. Shocked, I only remember Japan. I only speak Japanese. I only love Japanese food. She said I was a baby when we moved from Korea.
However, the real horror was from my father, who bullied me, tortured me, and made me take off my clothes so no marks could be seen. Mostly, he beat me with words, bad names and saying I was stupid. My father’s name was Arthur. To me, his name became the Art of Pain, Sir Satan.
One of the greatest Karate masters ever was Mas Oyama. My father went to his dojo and learned this art of killing. Oyama was a Zainichi, Korean Japanese (在日韓国・朝鮮人). Impossible! How could a Korean become a legend in Japan? Movies, comics, and books are written about him, making him a modern day version of Miyamoto Musashi, the greatest samurai ever.
My Father’s Motto: No Pain. No Gain!
My father taught me to worship pain, by practicing Kyokushin (極真) Karate torture techniques by being battered and bruised. I was told me to get up again and again. Being a small, short weak kid, this made no sense.
I stripped off my clothes as punishment as my Dad would beat me with his leather belt, saying, “This hurts me more than it hurts you.” No, it didn’t.
However, my father remains drastically wrong about one key factor.
My Path: Kuan Yin, the Goddess of Compassion
A warrior must be able to take a pain. However, a samurai must show compassion too. Guess who often always challenged me to fights? Full-blooded Koreans. Because I am part White, they hated me. I never backed down. In almost every room of my house is a figure or painting of Kuan Yin, the Goddess of Mercy.
All of the fights were over in seconds. When the antagonist was on the floor, not breathing, I never kicked him in the teeth. Instead, I worried, and made sure he was okay. I would hold him in my arms to gently lift him. Afterwards, he respected me, and often became my student. I do not teach self-defense. Instead, I teach the art of murdering vampires who try to suck chi. I teach them the purest form of inflicting the “Art of Pain” on your opponent.
However, my mother taught me a more important art: the art of compassion, the art of love, from the greatest artist of all time, the Goddess of Compassion, Kuan Yin.
The True Path of the Heart: No Love! No Gain!
My father was not right. Yes, a warrior must show compassion to fight hatred. Guess who always challenged me to fights? Full-blooded Koreans. Because I am part White, they hate me. I never backed down to a fight. I never lost.
Hatred Creates Hatred
My father was shocked when I earned a PhD because he thought I was stupid. I didn’t invite him to my graduation. In his last years of life, I never visited him. My father remarried, and his wife called me one day to ask why I never came to visit, so I explained. She apologized and said she never knew. She was kind and compassionate.
Finally, I became the teacher I never had. I listen to my students, care about my students, and love my students. Just as I wanted my father to be loving, thoughtful, and caring towards me.
I didn’t go to his funeral. Perhaps, one day, I will go to his grave site to forgive and forget all the pain he caused me.
Let it go the vexation. breath in deeply love, light, love. breathe out slowly physical pain, karmic pressures, let it go. release it now, the dark demonic memories of hate
Love you my father, eternally so. Forgive me for my trespasses,
Someone, somewhere abused you, tortured you, and murdered your soul. tears flowing from my bruised bloodheart. Rest in peace Rest in peace rest in peace, both father who are in heaven and son who are in the auto-rewind recurrent memories, prison purgatory of pain.
thy past is gone thy future is not they eternal now Love thy self, to heal thy self. . .
Thank you! The Birth of Self-Love
Never hit your kids. Love your kids as you wanted to be loved. That is what I did. I loved my kids. I never hit them. I never called them a name. Love conquers all. Love your kids. Love your dogs. Love your cats. Love everyone, even your enemies.
One of my friends in Japan, Tomo, is Korean/Japanese. His childhood must have been terrible. Guess what he became in Japan? A Buddhist Monk. Tomo still keeps in contact with me because we have a similar story of how we conquered hate. I miss Tomo. I guess I miss the dad I never had too.
Another of my students became a Buddhist nun in Taiwan because of me. When I finally learned to love myself, I learned to love life and my students. I am blessed to have met such saints and beautiful souls.
Blessings to all! Love conquers hate!
A karate student must master his emotions. The mind must train the body, for the spirit will follow. A weak mind creates a decrepit ugly body. Oyama became a karate champion and earned legendary respect. According to his his mythic tale, he even killed a bull who escaped with his bare hands to save a village.
Coming soon. This is the opening section of how I transformed myself. Read my coming chapters of “Shadow Manifesto!” How I made a deal with a demon who save my soul, for it is not what you think. This is how Asians look at evil. Many demons rose up to become compassionate gods! I met such a being in this parable. However, it was true story of my childhood.
This was very hard to write. One day, I will go to his grave site and forgive my fathers. Perhaps on Father’s Day.
Thank you!
I have trained boxers and MMA fighters. Indeed, I used to be a street fighter, so I know something about pain. No one ever beat me, and I never retreated. During a street brawl, I always moves forward to kill. I know how to kill, for I can take any pain and .any ones blow. Hit me. Thank you dad, for you were right. No one ever hit me as hard as you did a grown man beating his small innocent child who just wanted a hug and a smile.
Bruce Lee suffered the same thing. Chinese always fought him. Bruce’s first student in America was an African American, Jesse Glover. The movies about him seem to overlook this. It was bad enough he was teaching whites, but to teach the secrets of kung fu to a Black man was heretical.
