I am chiefly known as a mean man of martial arts, and that I can tell tales about my death defying adventures that can curl a cat’s whiskers, I am though not such a thick skinned superman as some may think, for example, I find that for me, genuine honest criticism is very hard to take, especially from a family member, a loved one, a friend, an acquaintance or even a stranger, which is strangely odd as I have become very well accustomed to this form of free speech over the course of my turbulent life. I have discovered and rediscovered that there are people out there in plain sight who wish to take pride in their brutal honesty, though for these people their principle pleasure and focus is clearly in the brutality and not in the honesty.
Personally I much prefer to hear how wonderful I am, and I know that I am also not unusual in wanting to hear those wisdoms of joy as we all love hearing how scrumptious we can be. It is just that as much as I thrive on hearing them, I tend to mistrust much of those words. I am a difficult man to know and very few get within the close compass of a hug and it is of those brave few that I trust. Trust to me is everything. I mainly take my criticism and my praise like I take my punches, I just shift a little and let them slip harmlessly by, but occasionally the odd one takes me off guard and crashes through my subtle but stringent defence.
It is obvious that of those whom I can accept praise from serve a vital and very welcomed role in my life and I love them all dearly. It is though less obvious and equally important and relevant that I accept and learn to tolerate the criticisms from whichever directions they come and as fast as they come as they also play vital role in my life. Theses harsh words and their authors keep me honest and constantly striving to never hear their kind again. I let harsh words sustain me by spurring me on to extinguish their fire, their pain is a reminder of their helpfulness
This attitude that I have regularly polished thankfully mirrors my lifetime of budo and bujutsu training, in which the one who truly wrestles with me and seeks to break my balance, the one who strikes at me from hidden places and tears at my flesh is clearly a worthy opponent and a rightful antagonist. Such a person is my keen helper because he can only test my nerve and sharpen my qualities and he so hones my skills and he focuses my thoughts on my craft as no other can. My enemy is thus my helper and my ally and he is invaluable to the dark arts of my survival.
In my life as in my budo and my bujutsu I willingly encompass those that will seek to injure me with their sharp tongues and barbed words, whether they are genuine haters of me or loved ones who need to remind me of things as forgotten by me, just as those who will risk their bodies and in some cases their lives in their pursuit of bettering me or of the taking of my life. I will welcome everyone, loving or harsh as a fellow traveller of the way.
marcmoor 