Kongo Rikishi

Sensei used to teach something along the lines of "if you come on strong, you may avoid fighting." Meaning, I think, that you can often bluff your way out of a situation.

Sensei would suggest that we imagine a real opponent as we did kata. That imagining, that meditation on an opponent, did several things. It made the kata more realistic ("did that block work, or did you get hit?") and it got us used to the idea of fighting so when the real thing came along it was easier to remain calm.

During kumite we practiced a bowing and glaring ritual that went like this:

• Bow to the referee, eyes down, as a sign of respect.
• Bow to each other, eyes up, because you are wary of your opponent and the match has already begun. Not just eyes up, but eyes locked on eyes, glaring at your opponent. This glaring didn't end until you bowed out at the end of the match.
• After kumite, bow to each other, eyes up. Breaking eye contact only when the referee said "now bow to me."
• Bow to the referee, eyes down.

Practicing "giving glare" during kumite did even more to make the students comfortable with fighting.

My favorite story about giving glare began when I was walking down Congress St. in Portland, Maine, completely minding my own business and doing absolutely nothing criminal... but suddenly multiple cop cars screech to a halt around me, cops get out, and without any explanation they hustle me off to a small holding cell in the police station. Not having much choice, I went along with this.

So I'm in the cell, a little pissed off at what just happened but mostly I was just disgusted by this obvious mistake. I remove my shoes and sit cross-legged on the bed and begin meditating. After a while, the police return, throw another guy in the cell with me, and leave. I crack an eye open to see what's happening, but basically I continued to meditate.

This guy won't shut up! He prattles on and on. "What are you in for? I hit my girlfriend. What are you in for?..." At first I ignore him, but he is such an annoying distraction that I can not meditate. I stop meditating, allow my heart rate to rise a bit, then I open my eyes and speak to him. "Dude. Shut the fuck up."

He not only doesn't stop talking but now he's even more animated, talking louder and faster than before. Several minutes pass and I can not return to my meditation. I decide that I must do something to shut this guy up or he'll drive me nuts. My plan was to simply intimidate him. I knew I would not hit him, but I also knew that if I failed to intimidate him I'd have to suffer his prattle for God knows how long, so I did my very best to be intimidating.

Again I allow my heart rate to rise. I open my eyes. He is pacing as he talks. Toward me, away from me. Talking, talking, talking. He notices that my eyes are open and he seems to like that. He kicks his patter up another notch. Anticipating a possible fight with this guy I remove my socks so I'd have good traction on the cement floor. He doesn't appear to notice this development.

I didn't time it consciously, but it happened that when I swung my leg off the bed and stood up he was pacing away from me. I stood in such a smooth motion that the bed made almost no noise. My bare feet are silent on the cement floor. He continues to talk, unaware that I am now standing.

I begin to silently walk toward him, my fist clenched and drawn back and a look on my face that said "I am going to kill you with my bare hands right here and right now."

He turns to pace toward me and sees me just a few feet away, moving toward him rapidly, looking as mean as Satan himself, and very close. He jumps at least 2 feet straight up even though his knees weren't bent! I found that so comical that I almost burst out laughing but I squelched the laughter because it would ruin the effect I was going for. I knew I had already accomplished my goal, all I had to do now was close the deal. I got real close to him, inches from his face, still looking mean as hell, and I said "Shut the fuck up, or I will fuck you up."

Clearly frightened, he didn't move a muscle. I glared at him for several seconds then began to step backwards while maintaining my lock on his eyes. When I was a few feet away I turned, walked back to the bunk, sat down, and waited for my heart rate to slow so I could resume meditation.

He said not one more word. After several minutes the cops returned and removed him from the cell. Something wasn't right. They were whispering. Prisoners and cops don't whisper to each other! I opened my eyes to see what was up, and I observed them walking side by side. They were both relaxed, still whispering. The cop was not guarding him. I realized in that moment that the jerk in the cell with me was a police interrogator who was only pretending to be a scumbag. It all made sense now. That's why he got more animated when I spoke to him or opened my eyes: the interrogator considered those to be positive developments.

They never explained why they took me. After a few hours they just let me go. I really can't say what all that was about, but my belief today is that they detained me because I matched a description of a suspect, or maybe I was just walking too close to a crime scene. Whatever the reason that they picked me up, they didn't know what they had. They thought that maybe I had done the crime, but they didn't have any evidence. So they send the interrogator in to see if he could get me to admit to something.

Read Part 2 of "On Giving Glare"

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Kongo Rikishi, eternal student, Shotokan
Shotokan Karate Academy