Christopher J. Flynn’s 7 Superpowers

Foreword

The culture of our Dojo is the result of synergy, encouraging the better attributes of our nature to thrive, within a structure that supports the fulfillment of our greatest potential.

I didn’t come up with that.

Christopher Flynn is responsible for that realization.

When my first instructor, Master R. Prett, met Chris, he said, “This is the guy.”

Chris came in with a chronic health condition, and managed to successfully push it into remission for the better part of a decade.

In that time, he created a Martial Arts program for children and adults which included a unique curriculum, comprehensive teaching and training method, and a paradigmatic approach of personal development that could be replicated, reliably, and repetitively.

Preface

I opened a Dojo in 1990.

Chris Flynn was among the first 5 students who enrolled.

In fact, he started immediately.

When Chris walked in for the very first time, he said, “I used to train here, in this exact location, and I would like to train here again if you will give me a chance.”

Nobody does that.

Most people walk into a Martial Arts school like it’s a store, and act like they are there to buy something.

Not Chris.

He showed up with a purpose.

At the time, I didn’t know that.

Looking back, it was obvious.

Hindsight, as they say, is 20/20.

I chose the Blauvelt location, because it had been a Martial Arts school, and already had a wood floor and fully mirrored wall.

Scott Palangi, an extraordinarily skilled Tae Kwon Do practitioner, and I were engaged in a misguided rivalry, and he had already claimed the location I would have preferred.

There is no doubt in my mind, that without Scott Palangi’s influence and inspiration, the following story would never have happened.

I owe Master Palangi much more than a debt of gratitude, but that story will be told in a different book at another time.

It was not a great reason to choose the space, but in retrospect, I am glad that I did.

Chris had started his journey in the Martial Arts at the “Tiger Claw Dojo”, and was excited to begin again in the very same place.

I introduced myself, “I’m Tom, it’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

“I’m Chris. Chris Flynn. I have done a little bit of training, and I really need to get back into it.

I have been watching the construction, and waiting for you to open.

I just quit drinking, and I want to straighten my life out.”

“Great”, I said, and then asked, “When did you stop drinking?”

“This morning”, he said, looking down, apparently ashamed with his answer.

“Okay, we have a class starting in 20 minutes. Are you ready to get going?”, I asked him, strangely sensing that it was now or never.

There was a Bar right next to the Dojo.

Neighbor’s Tavern is where Chris was headed, but the Dojo had captured his attention, and on that particular evening, he chose to walk in.

He trained that night, and enrolled immediately after the class.

Chris never missed a single session.

He was all in.

Chris Flynn was everything that I was not.

6’2”, 190 lbs, athletic, charismatic, and most importantly, compassionate, he quickly became the main attraction at our school.

Children looked up to him, men wanted to be like him, and to say that women loved him, is an understatement.

He had 4 or 5 years of experience in the Martial Arts prior to beginning his training with me.

Chris quickly became one of my main training partners, and truth be told, was primarily responsible for our rapid organizational growth.

The Blauvelt location was terrible, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

It forced us to run a legitimate program, that people were willing to go out of their way to find.

Whenever something needed to be done at the school, that was not getting done, because I wasn’t doing it, Chris did it.

Chris didn’t ask.

Whenever he observed an opportunity to solve a problem, fix something that was broken, or improve a situation, he took full responsibility.

Chris did not have the benefit of Master R. Prett’s direct example.

But he was apparently cut from the same cloth.

Chris Flynn never required an invitation to do what needed to be done.

He just did it.

He never had to be told what to do, ever.

Perhaps it was this quality above all of his other strengths, that earned my full trust and confidence in his character.

Introduction

When I opened the school, my intention was to offer classes for adults, 18 yrs old and up.

That kept our enrollment stagnant, and it irritated a lot of our existing students who wanted their children to learn the art that they were studying.

Chris started children’s classes in his second year at the school.

The program grew from 72 members to 283 before the end of year three.

We had a squad of serious practitioners who were chomping at the bit to become instructors and open up schools.

Our enrollment was strong, and we were about to open our second and third locations.

Our training methods were sound and our curriculum was rock-solid.

But our program lacked the depth, substance, and texture, that my first instructor, Master R. Prett, was known for.

I was not living up to the standards that he established, and was coming up short on the promises that I made to him.

Physically, our members were excellent.

Mentally, they were on the ball.

But our philosophy was lacking, which diminished the spirit that put Master R. Prett’s school, The Hall Of The Dragon, on the map.

Our students were being short changed, and it was disgraceful.

It was time to take everything up a notch.

Chris, as he always did, went to work.

It is worth mentioning that Chris was not the senior most student in our school.

He was junior to Karen Marsilio and Kevin McLaughlin, who each had a solid 10 years of uninterrupted training under highly reputable instructors.

Karen Marsilio was my classmate, under Master R. Prett, and was by far, his most accomplished student.

Kevin McLaughlin and I met at a Hung Gar Kung Fu Kwoon in Nyack, NY, circa 1988, and quickly became classmates and training partners.

While Chris Flynn was a bit less experienced with formal Martial Arts training than the 3 of us, he was considerably more mature, impeccably responsible, and relentlessly hard working.

These characteristics caused him to progress as a practitioner at a remarkably accelerated pace.

We had a dedicated group of students who were on average, just like us, in their twenties.

Everyone was relatively fit, very focused, and feverishly committed to their pursuit of personal excellence.

It was a magical time for all of us.

Our main curriculum in the ‘90s was a 50/50 split of Long Fist Kung Fu and Kenpo Karate.

Kevin McLaughlin and I had been studying under Master Eric Chen, in Huntington Beach, California, beginning in 1988.

He is a world renowned Wu Shu coach and unmatched expert in the post 1949 Chinese Kung Fu “modern” training methods.

Kevin and I flew out to train with Master E. Chen, 3 to 4 times a year, for 2 weeks at a time.

We based our class structure at our Blauvelt school on Lao Shr E. Chen’s system of instruction, and the results were outstanding.

In 1992, Kevin, Karen, Chris, Thor Peters, Victor Ballesteros, and I, accompanied Lao Shr Chen and his team of advanced students to train in Mainland, China.

Great things were happening.

Chapter 1Principle 1 - Honesty

It was 1995…

We outgrew the Blauvelt location, and we were in the process of moving to a bigger, better, and highly visible spot in Orangeburg, NY.

“Honesty” he said, “That’s the one we should start with.”

I thought for a moment, which turned out to be not nearly enough time, and gave my opinion.

“Isn’t that a low bar?”, I asked, and not waiting for a response, I asserted, “Honesty should be expected.”

Chris took his time, formulating his thoughts into a coherent explanation, which is what I should have done.

“Honesty is a tough one”, he began, “At least for me it is.”

Chris paused, and then continued, “On a deeper level, how can we tell the truth, when we rarely even know what the truth is?”, he asked.

“If we are equating honesty with accuracy, it deserves a distinguished place in the hierarchy of our values”, he said, somewhat insistently.

“I always try to be honest”, I affirmed, having a bit of an epiphany as the words left my mouth.

“Exactly”, Chris replied, “You always have to try to be honest, while resisting the tendency to be deceptive, which for me anyway, comes as naturally as the rise and set of the sun.”

I couldn’t argue with that, and even if I could, I didn’t want to.

Chris Flynn, as usual, captured the spirit of our task in a manner that revealed the admirable character of a man on a mission.

That is what the title Kyoshi roughly translates to, a man on a mission.

It is my title, the term used to designate my role within the Dojo that I am responsible for.

It has very little to do with rank, but instead, is meant to compel responsibility in regard to the vision and mission of a given Martial Arts system.

When we solidified the principles that represent the Warrior’s Code of our Dojo, Chris Flynn was a Sensei in our up and coming organization.

Sensei is the title we use for a full instructor in our particular school of Martial Arts.

It loosely translates to “predecessor”, and is commonly used as a term to differentiate the role of teacher from student.

In truth, he was a much better Kyoshi than I was, or ever will be.

“The principles of the Martial Arts are like superpowers”, Chris Flynn insisted, adding, “If you fail to recognize that, you are left with little more than a thirst for violence.”

Chapter 2Principle 2 - Integrity

“Integrity”, Chris suggested, “That comes next, because it is the ultimate goal of the Martial Arts, and on a grand scale, it is the ultimate goal in life.”

“How so?”, I asked, “And if so, why wouldn’t we make it the first principle?”

“Because if we don’t begin with honesty, and confront the propensity for people to be deceptive, especially self-deceptive, they will be unable to approximate their imbalances”, he professed, revealing that this was something he took seriously.

“What is your understanding of integrity?”, I asked Chris, half interested in his answer, and half stalling, while attempting to formulate an intelligent definition in my own mind.

As usual, he beat me to it.

“If we carefully consider the meaning of the creed that we recite at the beginning of every class, ‘As a student of the Martial Arts, I seek to develop true confidence through: a stronger body, a sharper mind, and a non-quitting spirit’, it becomes obvious that our objective is to bring these 3 aspects of our being into balance”, he answered, once again demonstrating a depth of contemplation that I had not considered in the least.

“That’s what I think it means”, he continued, “Integrity is a balance of the essential characteristics that we need for our well-being, and that we respect when we recognize it in others.”

“That sounds about right”, I said, in a feeble attempt to make a contribution to the discussion.

“How the heck is someone going to have true confidence if they are not physically healthy, which is what the word strong suggests?”, he inquired, but didn’t wait for a reply.

“Without a sharp mind, which includes a good memory, the ability to focus, and an imagination, a person’s cognitive ability is crippled. That doesn’t lead to confidence, does it?”, Chris wondered out loud.

“The word ‘spirit’ gets thrown around a lot in the Martial Arts”, he began, “But it is rarely explained or clearly defined. I don’t think it is a religious reference, and certainly does not pertain to ghosts and goblins in the context of our training.”

“That is because it is widely misunderstood, and worse, it is often misrepresented”, I said confidently, because Master R. Prett was quite clear about this, and removed the mystery.

“A non-quitting spirit is the linchpin that keeps us on the path of progress when giving up becomes a tempting proposition”, I shared, essentially repeating the words of my first instructor, once again appreciating his wisdom.

“Yeah, that’s it”, Chris concurred, adding, “Our integrity is solidified in the moments when we want to give up, but we don’t.”

“What about people who cannot physically become stronger and suffer from an illness or affliction?”, I asked.

“Cannot or will not?” he asked, and quickly stated, “We must measure ourselves against our greatest potential, which is an incredibly daunting task”, he concluded.

Chris was the youngest of the 4 children in his family.

His brother Eddie, the second youngest, was born developmentally delayed, and despite the best care and intervention, remained physically and mentally handicapped.

Chris took great care of his big brother, providing him the unconditional love, attention, and affection, that everyone wants, but very few people ever get.

I always defaulted to Chris in matters that involved special needs, because I believed that he had the experience and moral authority to shed light on a severely sensitive subject.

“If a person is not striving toward a better version of themselves, they are invariably moving in the wrong direction”, he insisted, and for what it is worth, I completely agreed.

I still do.

“This is going to bother you, but it needs to be addressed”, Chris said, without apology.

“You’re being a coward, and it is retarding the growth of the Dojo, and more to the point, it is keeping you from becoming your personal best”, he said, with an insistence that I could not ignore.

“Put your name on the sign, and stop hiding behind the convenience of anonymity”, he snapped, less gently than what would be considered tactful.

“What are you talking about?”, I asked, knowing full well what he was doing.

“Every successful school, every legitimately outstanding school that is making a positive difference in hundreds and sometimes thousands of students’ lives, has a leader who isn’t afraid to accept responsibility for the good, bad, and ugly of their organization”, Chris continued, in a tone that shifted from anger to disappointment.

“Put your name on the sign!”, he repeated, adding, “We are about to merge with Dean O’Hanlon’s school in Suffern, and we are opening a new location in West Nyack.”

This wasn’t news to me.

I had invested every penny that I ever earned into the Martial Arts, and my signature was on a countless number of documents, putting my ass squarely in the hot seat if things went south.

However, Chris had a point.

“Danny ‘Tiger Schulmann’ isn’t scared of responsibility, which probably has something to do with the fact he has over 20 locations across 5 States, and is opening up in Florida, as we speak”, Chris explained, as if it had been eating at him for a long time.

Chris had trained with one of Master Schulmann’s highest ranking students, Sensei Gary Hellman, who owned and operated one of their Rockland County locations.

It was Gary Hellman who would be heading up “Tiger” Schulmann’s expansion into Florida.

Master Schulmann was, and still is, widely recognized as the “King” of professional Martial Arts instruction on the East Coast, if not the entire Country.

Criticism of Shihan Dan Schulmann’s success, and disdain for the enormity of his expansion, was driven by a pathetic blend of jealousy, stupidity, and insecurity.

Chris knew that, and he was unapologetically outspoken about it.

“If you have a backbone, and I believe that you do, you will put your name on the sign and stop trying to blend in like a chameleon. You are not a lizard, so get off of your belly and lead like a man”, he said, or more precisely, shouted, and waited for my response.

“Done”, I said, as matter-of-factly as I could, adding, “Karen will make a new logo, and the sign for the Orangeburg location will read: Thomas Clifford’s Martial Arts.”

“Good! It’s about time”, Chris barked.

He then said, “Before all of this goes to your head, and you start experiencing delusions of grandeur, we better get going with principle number 3.”

“Yeah?”, I shrugged, “What is principle number 3?”

“Humility, of course”, he said with certainty, grinning from ear to ear.

Chapter 3Principle 3 - Humility

“What do you think is the most dangerous risk that students take when they embark upon their journey in the Martial Arts?”, Chris asked, in a tone that suggested that he already had the answer.

“False confidence is an epidemic”, I responded, “Which is not unique to the Martial Arts, but for a plethora of reasons, can incubate and accelerate the problem.”

“I think so, too”, he agreed, and left a space of silence, encouraging me to expand my perspective.

“Challenges in our lives, everyone’s lives, are brought about by disproportionate feelings of superiority, and the equally destructive phenomenon of inappropriate inferiority”, I said, and then shut up, knowing that Chris had more to say.

“Humility is a rough one, but it’s not as rough as humiliation”, he clarified, and continued, “Humble pie is oddly appetizing by the slice, yet excruciatingly painful when it gets smashed in your face.”

“So there is a difference between humility and humiliation?”, I asked him.

“Definitely, there is a massive gap between them, just as there is an equal gap between humility and arrogance”, Chris proclaimed.

“This is why training in the Martial Arts has enormous value”, he affirmed.

“What exactly do you mean?”, I pressed him.

“People gravitate to the Martial Arts to get something they do not have, which is obvious, because if they already had it, they would pursue something else”, Chris said, as though he was thinking out loud.

“The void they come to fill can be physical, mental, social, emotional, etcetera, but whatever it is, it is a deficiency, which is a weakness, and therefore causes a significant imbalance”, he added.

“That’s true. What is also true, is that the deeper we go in correcting our inadequacies, deficiencies, and flaws, we discover, or often develop, a brand new set of problems”, I said, convincingly, but not conclusively.

“Why does there seem to be so much arrogance, bravado, and conceit, amongst Martial Artists?”, Chris asked.

“You only see that when practitioners aren’t really practicing”, I suggested.

“What does that mean?”, Chris asked, with the naivety of a guy who always took his training seriously, and erroneously assumed that everyone else did.

“I just don’t know anyone who trains genuinely, authentically, and sincerely, who allows their ego to get out of control.”

Without honesty, you cannot have integrity.

Humility comes from acknowledging that you are making progress, but have a very long way to go.

If you do not realize that, you aren’t being honest.

When you are not honest, you are falling apart, whether you know it or not.

Odds are, you know it, or you wouldn’t still be reading this.

Chapter 4Principle 4 - Courtesy

“Courtesy comes next, because if you own enough of yourself, you will have plenty to give away”, Chris stated confidently.

Chris was on a roll.

“There is a world of difference between fragile and gentle. When people are fragile and delicate, they tend to be fearful.”

“Scared people are not polite or courteous, though they may pretend to be, which is disingenuous, and they know it.”

“Why do you think courtesy follows honesty, integrity, and humility?”, I inquired.

“Because those first 3 are introspective, and create the inclination to be kind, respectful, and considerate of other people”, he explained.

“Courtesy is a function of compassion, which compels us to treat people kindly from a position of strength, not weakness.”

“If the training isn’t challenging, there is no need for adaptation”, Chris asserted.

“What do you mean by challenging?”, I asked, wanting to know exactly what he was saying.

“We have both listened to a lot of people suggest that time at the Dojo is an escape from the frustrations, difficulties, stress, and chaos of their day to day lives”, Chris began.

“That’s a pathetically poor perspective, and worse, it indicates cowardice”, he said.

“How so?”, I asked, curious to hear his opinion.

“Training is not an escape, it’s a confrontation. Turning the Dojo into a hiding place is a perversion of its purpose”, Chris insisted.

“Are you sure?”, I wondered out loud.

Quickly adding, “The Shao-Lin Temple, which is widely considered to be the birthplace of systemized Martial Arts instruction, was considered a sanctuary and a safe haven.”

“Anyone who thinks that a monastic life is an escape, rather than a confrontation, is misinformed. The problem with thinking you can leave all of your worldly problems at the door, becomes clear when you walk inside”, Chris clarified, “Because you walk inside with yourself.”

“You quickly discover that training is difficult and demanding. Next, you become uncomfortably aware that most of the misery of your existence is a direct consequence of your inadequacies, deficiencies, weaknesses, and flaws, rather than concluding that the universe is broken, because it refuses to conform to your whims and remedy your woes”, he concluded.

“So if training is watered down, and the difficulty is removed, the Dojo becomes little more than a temporary distraction from the pain caused by blaming our problems on people, places, and things, that we in fact have far less agency over, than our own attitude, behavior, and character?” I asked, albeit rhetorically.

“Yes”, Chris answered, “I think that sums it up.”

“Training should never be watered down, but it should always be washed off”, he reminded me.

“Great. But I am having trouble seeing what that has to do with courtesy”, I pressed him.

“Quite a bit”, he said.

“Do you remember what we acknowledged a few minutes ago, that students of the Martial Arts often see their training as an escape or reprieve from their lives outside of the Dojo?”, he asked, but more to gain momentum, than to get my answer.

“Well, that is akin to living a double life, naively believing that if you play your cards right, you can avoid the cataclysm when those two universes collide, which they inevitably will”, Chris stated, describing with alarming accuracy an all too common trap.

“Our lives and our training run concurrently.

It would be foolish to ignore their obvious integration.

In the Dojo, we are presented with countless opportunities to strengthen our weaknesses, without weakening our strengths.

If we cannot, or do not, apply those strengths to the challenges we face outside of the Dojo, we have failed, not just categorically, but entirely”, Chris clarified.

“How do you think we should use the skills that we learn in the Dojo, in a practical manner, outside of the Dojo?”, I asked.

“Let’s take a look at an aspect of training that is simple, but not easy.

Targeting, is an expression of precision, and timing, is the primary benefit of punctuality.

These are standard areas of a Martial Artist’s focus, at the very least, and healthy obsessions at best.

If we are living life with meaning and purpose, or better yet, with a powerful mission and deep passion, setting goals and meeting deadlines is a necessary core competency.

A goal is a target, and a deadline represents timing”, he explained.

“Would the quality of your life be enhanced or diminished if you improved your ability to set goals and achieve them on time?”, Chris asked.

“A better question is, would your life be more fulfilling if you embraced these profoundly practical skills?

Life, with all of its complexities, pleasantries, and tragedies, cannot, or at least should not, be placed on pause, while we pursue progress in the Dojo.

The more difficult it is to carve out a few hours of training per week, the more valuable, beneficial, and applicable our skill and knowledge becomes.”

“Everyone will see the upside of honesty, integrity, and humility, and even if they don’t, they probably won’t admit it”, I said, more as an observation than an explanation.

Chris jumped in, “Definitely. The first 3 are somewhat self indulgent, as they should be. Courtesy is one of the intended consequences.”

“Please elaborate”, I said, inviting a deeper expression of Chris Flynn’s wisdom.

“Kyoshi, I have heard you say, ‘If we don’t own enough of ourselves, we have very little to give away’”, Chris stated, quoting what my first instructor, Master R. Prett, often said to me.

“It is popular to place rituals, disciplines, practices, and exercises, in the same category as habits. I think it is a mistake. A big mistake”, Chris continued.

“Drinking, smoking, lying, cheating, and stealing, are habits. Bad habits, by the way.

While they are behavioral, they do not require much repetition to become ingrained.

In other words, they are easy to master.

These negative behaviors are easy to build, but hard to break.

Honesty is a behavior.

However, it is a very easy behavior to ruin.

Everyone knows this, yet not everyone admits this.

People who say that they never lie, through commission or omission, are already off to a bad start.

If they lie about not lying, they lie about other things, too”, Chris shared, with a tone of certainty born of experience.

“I cannot disagree with any of that”, I replied, or more accurately, admitted.

“Practicing honesty and developing integrity provides us with strength of character.

In turn, we are compelled to recognize our shortcomings.

This encourages a high degree of modesty regarding our competencies and achievements.

That encourages the practice of humility.

The practice of humility prevents the pain of humiliation”, he added.

“Developing these character traits leads to the propensity to practice courtesy”, Chris explained.

“It definitely makes for a more peaceful existence”, I observed.

“Yes, that’s true, and it brings us to number 5, which is harmony”, he affirmed.

Chapter 5Principle 5 - Harmony

Chris spoke, “Kyoshi, you told me many times that the usefulness of the Martial Arts is found in its uselessness.”

“Yes, I have repeated that many times. It is something Master R. Prett would often say”, I responded.

“What do you think he meant by that?”, Chris inquired.

“First, it summarizes the idea that training effectively and appropriately eliminates the need for violence.”

“How does that happen?”, Chris asked.

“Let’s take a careful look at our training methodology”, I proposed.

“We view every aspect of our training through a diagnostic lens, with the intention of gaining a high degree of self-awareness.

Alternately, we seek to correct our deficiencies and imbalances with the very same drills, exercises, and curriculum, viewed through a developmental lens.

Metaphorically speaking, we see our training through bifocals.

Self-awareness is a spectacular path toward social-consciousness.

Social consciousness is a far greater self-defense skill than situational awareness.

Ultimately, if you understand violence, and you are abundantly aware of the consequences, avoiding it becomes an art”, I clarified.

“That makes complete sense, but it doesn’t seem to be a widely held belief amongst the Martial Arts community”, Chris commented.

“It is unanimously understood and embraced by the Martial Arts community, though it sometimes takes a few decades to sink in”, I suggested.

“What is the other meaning of ‘the usefulness of the Martial Arts is found in its uselessness’?”

“There is a quote by the most famous Japanese Ronin, Miyamoto Musashi, ‘Know the way broadly and you will see it in all things.’

Beyond seeing the ‘way’, it is imperative to approach the jugular areas of our lives outside of the Dojo: family, friends, community, education, career, etc., with an understanding and appreciation of their greater value, and direct our focus toward those priorities.

The ‘way’ of the Warrior, when optimally applied, is used as a vehicle toward a richer, fuller, balanced, integrated, and productive life, void of violence, and paradoxically peaceful”, I shared, mostly repeating, though sincerely believing, what my teacher taught me.

“Why do you think there is so much fighting in the world?” Chris asked.

“There is very little fighting”, I said, adding, “There are a lot of assaults.

If you want order in your life, which is what harmony means, you must learn to deal with chaos.

Martial Arts training, when taken seriously, teaches us to transform chaos into order.

When people resort to violence, it is because they want to take a short cut.

Violence is expedient.

Peace is often a painstakingly long process.

Death is expedient.

Life is often a painstakingly long process.

This is what Master R. Prett taught me”, I said, remembering to acknowledge the source of my assertion.

Chris added, “I think it is important to constantly remind ourselves that perseverance leads to patience, and that patience leads to peace.”

As usual, Chris had a way of summing things up, simply and succinctly.

Chapter 6Principle 6 - Tenacity

“Harmony is wonderful, but sometimes we must upset the apple cart, and that can be uncomfortable, if not excruciating”, he began.

“Tenacity is going to be necessary, especially when things are not going smoothly”, he added.

“Without tenacity, things don’t become smooth, and if they somehow are already smooth, they won’t stay smooth for very long”, I chimed in.

“Chris, you have come up with 5 principles so far, and to my understanding, they overlap, but do not eclipse each other”, I observed.

“That’s true, each principle is distinct, and they are all behavioral, which means they can be, and actually must be, acted on, if they are to have any value”, he pronounced.

“Great!”, I exclaimed, “Let’s put it on paper and share it with the rest of the staff and students.”

“Kyoshi, we aren’t done, which means we still have work to do”, Chris insisted.

“We started with honesty and worked our way to harmony, which is another way of saying that we moved from chaos to order, and as far as I am concerned that is the goal”, I said, making clear that I was ready to wrap it up.

Chris spoke up, “On the last day of the Constitutional Convention, September 18, 1787, a woman asked Benjamin Franklin, ‘Well Doctor, what have we got, a republic or a monarchy?’

‘A republic’, replied Franklin, ‘if you can keep it.’

I am not exactly sure what Benjamin Franklin meant by that, but I am certain that whatever it was, would require a tremendous measure of tenacity.

Tenacity has an intensity to it, which ironically enough, cannot be sustained for long durations.

It often requires us to ‘redline on all 8 cylinders’, so it must be used strategically and sparingly.

But it is a critical quality if we expect to get past the inevitable rough patches that are a part of every worthwhile process.

Martial Arts, just like life itself, is an obstacle course.

Tenacity is going to be necessary if we plan on accomplishing anything great.

In fact, without tenacity, we cannot even accomplish anything good.

Martial Arts training affords us a plethora of opportunities to practice the principle of tenacity”, Chris concluded.

“You’re right”, I said, sincerely agreeing that the list would be incomplete without tenacity.

Tenacity is definitely a superpower.

“Okay, this is powerful”, I said, stating the obvious.

“We aren’t done”, Chris said, insistently and convincingly.

“What are you thinking about?”, I asked him.

“You told me that you plan on getting married and having kids someday”, Chris said, rhetorically.

“Yes, I definitely plan on it, but I am not in any sort of a rush”, I affirmed.

“That’s probably good”, he replied.

“What?”, I asked, “Getting married and having kids, or not being in a rush?”

“Both”, he answered.

“What do you think she is going to expect, or better yet, who do you think she is going to expect?”, Chris asked.

“Expect?”, I repeated.

“Are you going to want to marry a woman who doesn’t expect you to be honest, integrated, humble, courteous, harmonious, and tenacious?”, he inquired.

“No. No way”, I unhesitatingly answered.

“You are going to expect the same from her. If you don’t expect it, and if both of you don’t insist on it, your relationship is doomed to failure”, Chris professed.

“These children you plan on having, do you want them to cultivate these 6 character qualities, so they are not merely values?”, he quizzed me.

“Of course”, I told him, as I contemplated the gravity of my responsibilities.

“What are you going to do when you want to quit?” Chris asked me.

“Quit what?”, I asked, answering his question with a question.

“Ha!” he responded.

“Kyoshi, you know that I have ‘been around the block’ a few times”, he said, in a tone that sounded like a confession.

“Yes, I know that you had a drinking problem, but that is in the past”, I said, trying to assure him, and convey my confidence in his character.

“My problem wasn’t with drinking. That was easy. My problem was with quitting”, he explained.

“The only thing that I found to be more difficult than quitting a destructive and addictive behavior, is not quitting a constructive and evasive discipline.

A relationship is a discipline.

If you do not understand that or believe that, you will simply have to find out the hard way”, he prophesied.

“Like I said, I am not in a rush”, I said, half jokingly.

“The clock and calendar aren’t moving in reverse”, Chris shot back, and he wasn’t kidding.

“A strong body and a sharp mind are of little value without a non-quitting spirit”, he added.

“That’s the 7th principle, isn’t it?”, I asked.

“Of course”, he answered, “It has to be.”

Chapter 7Principle 7 - Non-Quitting Spirit

To say that Chris was serious about his recovery is an understatement.

I was blind to much of it, and for that I am sorry and ashamed.

If I was half the friend to Chris that he was to me, I believe things would have turned out differently, and certainly not tragically.

Personally, I have been spared the affliction of substance abuse, which profoundly diminishes my credibility on the subject.

Perhaps the following will help you, as it did me, gain a greater understanding of addiction’s horror.

Jared McHugh is my sister Leigh’s oldest son.

He was born premature, weighing less than 3 pounds.

His first 4 months were spent in intensive care, where he fought for his life.

With the heart of a lion, a lot of medical attention, and the unconditional love of his parents, he survived.

Jared recovered quickly, despite his extremely rough start.

Within a short period of time, he was no longer surviving, he was thriving.

Aside from mild respiratory issues, he developed into an active and adventurous little boy.

His brother arrived 4 years later.

Peter was born healthy, happy, and ready to conquer the world.

They both grew up in a trailer park, in Pomona, NY, with their hard working parents.

Both Jared and Peter were rough and tumble kids.

They were unmistakably athletic, aggressive, and mischievous.

They each developed colorful personalities commonly found in families with considerable levels of dysfunction.

My sister Leigh, I would later discover, was dealing with struggles of her own.

Leigh had tried desperately to fill a tremendous emotional void, which was a direct result of our uncle Howard’s death.

I will be forever grateful for all of the time and attention she gave me when I was a little kid.

My sister is a natural caregiver, and while that is an admirable trait, she leans toward codependency.

Jared and Peter’s father, Pete Sr., was and is, a great guy.

A Marine, with an omnipresent work ethic, and an unsheltered upbringing, he always had high expectations for his boys.

I was just out of High School when my nephews were forming their identities.

Looking back, I wanted to be for them, who my “uncle” Howard was for me.

However, when you don’t yet own enough of yourself, you don’t have much to give away.

They both trained at my first Dojo in Blauvelt, NY, when they were kids.

This provided me with an opportunity to influence their lives, take some responsibility for their upbringing, and build an unbreakable bond.

Martial Arts training agreed with them, and they caught on quickly.

I rarely taught the classes they attended, but I kept an eye on everything they did at the Dojo.

That was fine with Jared and Peter.

They were resourceful, regardless of the resources.

Fortunately, Chris Flynn was their primary instructor, and he was always a tremendous influence and inspiration.

My sister and brother-in-law were growing apart in their relationship.

Changes in living arrangements were just one of the conflicts that placed Martial Arts low on their list of priorities.

Peter gravitated toward sports, academic achievement, and music.

He embraced every worthwhile endeavor within his reach.

Jared chose a different path.

He started smoking and drinking, and much worse, he stopped participating.

Yup.

Participation leads to progress.

He withdrew.

By the time he was 16, he was using LSD regularly, along with a wide range of other drugs.

Jared had completely lost control over his life.

He started shooting heroin at the age of 17.

Peter, who always looked up to his big brother, was devastated.

He dealt with it by doubling down on his commitment to personal development.

Peter wanted to be a positive example for his older brother.

He was, and he still is.

Jared was in and out of County Jail regularly, for drug offenses in his early twenties.

He ended up doing the better part of a 5 year sentence in State Prison in his early thirties.

I was always critical of his horrible choices.

“Why was he so weak?”, I often wondered.

Jared is an addict.

He’s had significant periods of being clean and sober, but during those periods, he was still an addict.

He will always be an addict.

That’s probably a tough one to wrap your mind around, especially if you have not suffered the ravages of addiction.

That’s not the entire back story of Jared McHugh.

There is much more, I am sure.

He is the only person qualified to write the biography of his life.

Jared and Peter are my nephews, and I love them more than words can capture.

I would gladly die a thousand deaths for either of them - and if that would have helped them, I would already be dead.

So, if you have read along up until this point, hang in there.

Here is what my nephew taught me about the horrors of substance abuse…

“Just stop fuckin’ around with that shit!”, I blurted out, arrogantly and ignorantly.

“Thomas, you don’t get it. You have no idea of what this is like, and I’m glad”, he countered.

“Bullshit. Just stop. Grow some balls and leave it alone. You don’t need it”, I insisted.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Grow some balls, get a backbone, pick yourself up by the bootstraps, blah, blah, blah”, Jared mocked me, accurately and angrily.

“Fuck you with all of your self-righteous, high and mighty, holier than thou advice”, he yelled at me, as if he was trying to penetrate the thickness of my skull.

“You think this is like cutting weight or making it through a tough training session”, he explained, furiously.

“It isn’t!”, he went on.

“That shit is easy. It’s fuckin’ fun!”, Jared clarified.

“How long have you gone without food?” he asked me.

“4 days, and it sucked.” I answered.

“How about water?”, he demanded.

“Um, maybe a day and a half. Probably just a day, but it wasn’t a good idea”, I said half-jokingly.

“Okay. How long do you think you can go without air?”, he pressed me.

“Not very long”, I said, unsure of his point.

“Imagine that someone is holding your head under water, like they’re trying to drown you”, Jared explained.

“Imagine how badly you would want and need air”, he said, trying to hold back his tears.

“That’s my whole fuckin’ life”, he confessed to me.

“I don’t want to get high anymore”, he said.

“But I’m an addict. Heroin is like oxygen for me”, he confessed.

For the first time in my life, I had a small shred of an understanding of addiction.

It was a paradigm that I had never considered.

It’s not taught in a 10th grade health class.

Jared is my hero because he isn’t just trying to “slay a Dragon.”

That’s easy.

He is battling a Demon.

A Demon that cannot be killed.

He fights this battle every single day of his life.

I have a hard time forgiving him for destroying so much of his life, although I know he isn’t seeking my forgiveness.

I am inspired by the fact that he takes full responsibility for his decisions.

Jared and Peter are both tougher and smarter than I ever was, or will ever be.

At times, I saw them as my own kids, at other times they seemed like distant cousins.

Today, they are like my brothers.

The next time you see a person who is struggling with addiction, consider the enormity of their fight.

What would you do if your head was being held under water?

More to the point, what wouldn’t you do?

Chris Flynn understood Jared’s story, and countless others that are eerily similar, and equally as sad.

“Everyone probably knows what a non-quitting spirit means, but they may not be aware of how it is developed”, I proposed.

“That’s right, it is simple, but it is not easy”, Chris replied.

“I believe that the idea of a non-quitting spirit is widely misunderstood”, Chris pointed out, adding, “You cannot build a non-quitting spirit until you first get to the point where you want to quit.”

“What do you mean?”, I pressed him.

“Until you hit the point where quitting becomes a temptation, it is very likely that you are mostly enjoying yourself”, he explained.

“And?”, I asked.

“It doesn’t take a non-quitting spirit to enjoy a good time. It takes a non-quitting spirit to endure the difficulty of a dreadful patch”, Chris answered.

“So how do you do it, how do you develop a non-quitting spirit?”, I challenged him, with a degree of frustration in my voice.

“You get to the point where you feel like quitting, and then you don’t quit”, he said, not conclusively, but quite persuasively.

Then he said, “Only quit tomorrow. Tomorrow is always tomorrow. We never get there. All we have is today. Just don’t quit today.”

Afterword

As I stated in the beginning of this story, while Chris is the main character, it isn’t about him.

Not anymore, anyway.

This story is about you, me, and everyone we know.

That’s a terrifying proposition for the faint of heart.

If you are too scared to take a journey of self-discovery, and face the dragons who are hoarding the treasures that you seek, ignore his wisdom.

Chris earned his wings, and I have every confidence that his time in eternity is proving to be more amazing than he ever imagined.

His legacy lives on.

Through Chris Flynn’s leadership, vision, and influence, we built 3 rock-solid schools in less than a decade.

Shihan Flynn trained, developed, shaped, and molded, every student, staff member, and instructor of TCMA throughout that era.

Our Pearl River Dojo would not be here today if it was not for Chris Flynn and his tireless commitment and fidelity to a worthy endeavor.

It was his courage, character, charisma, and credibility, that attracted so many great people to our schools.

My credibility was a reflection of his.

Kyoshi Alex Koprowski and Renshi Charlie Miller have always served as the “moral authority” of our Dojo, both on and off the mat.

Our entire membership, active and alumni, is comprised of amazing individuals, who hold themselves and each other to uncompromisingly high standards of excellence.

There is no doubt about that.

However, Shihan Chris Flynn was, and always will be, the true “spirit leader” of our school.

This is why he was more deserving of the Kyoshi title than I ever was.

For his own reasons, largely regarding his chronic health issues, he would not accept that role.

If you are a student of TCMA, past or present, you should know that Chris Flynn has made a profound impact on your life.

To those of us who trained directly with Chris, and now own and operate Martial Arts schools, remember how that came to be, and that it was Shihan Chris Flynn who blazed the trail necessary to make your dream a reality.

He imagined, and in many ways invented, the Martial Arts lifestyle we now live.

Chris amassed an incredible fortune over his short and spectacular lifetime.

Would you like to know how much he left behind?

He left it all.

It is now yours and mine to give away.

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“You can’t win, Darth. If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.”

Obi-Wan Kenobi

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That’s how Chris felt about his illnesses.

He was right, as usual.

I believe that his spirit is always present, and far more potent than I thought was possible.