All practitioners were newbies at one point or another. One of the most commonly asked questions of newcomers to maelstrøm is invariably: “How did you find out about us? Why are you interested in kali?”. Answers vary from being interested in one’s ethnic Filipino heritage, to being interested through the Bourne movies, or even being inspired by the bladed arts featured in comic books! Everyone enters the art through various means, and if our instructors have anything in common, it’s that they all fell in love with Pekiti-Tirsia Kali. They have stayed with the art for many years, some for decades and for significant portions of their lives. So to celebrate the ways any one of us becomes enamoured with kali, the instructor that teaches (fittingly) our beginner’s Saturday class, Edwin, writes about his introduction to FMA:
First Exposure to Filipino Martial Arts
There’s a magazine shop on St. Catherine’s street in Montreal which I used to go to all the time. I’d always noticed a doorway beside it that led upstairs, with a sign offering different martial arts including… Filipino Martial Arts. Styles I’d never heard of in the world that had just switched from glorifying Kung-fu fighting to being obsessed with lethal ninja assassins. One day, my curiosity got the better of me, and I walked up those stairs…
Guro Philip Gelinas was a rugged-looking man, and the photos and trophies on display in his office attested to his capability in the martial arts. But what really struck me was how nice and quietly enthusiastic he was. He showed me a binder with some information and pictures of Filipino Martial Arts. The idea of learning how to use weapons from the get-go was novel, as my only previous exposure to martial arts was to judo, karate and tai chi where I never saw weapons at all. I think we probably referenced Bruce Lee films, as his stick (and nunchuk) work would have been my only exposure to Filipino Martial Arts until then. He was quick to distance the art taught from the flashy displays of pre-fight solo weapon twirling that looked so good in the movies. “Doing that is like dropping to the ground and doing push-ups in front of someone you’re about to fight: I suppose it might impress the heck out of him, but it’s not fighting ability.” That was my first taste of the practical sensibility that I would come to know as a trademark of his teaching style.
So I did go back, just to try it out, to try something different. I remember the first lesson: didn’t seem to be many other people there. How to do basic strikes. The strange footwork. And then he was trying to teach me the Upper 8, a double stick drill that trains coordination. There was a lot to think about: Right, Left, Right, where to put the arms after the strike: I’d get it then lose the pattern again. He was really patient. He would keep offering this piece of advice: “Stop thinking about it”. Which baffled me, as it seemed to me that the only way I was even getting a bit done was by furious concentration. It didn’t help that we were quickly onto the two man drill, in which we had to do the upper eight against each other. What was going on in my mind was “If someone (meaning me) screws up, someone is going to get hit, with a stick!” I wasn’t sure what would be worse: getting hit or accidentally hitting the Master. This definitely required 110% of my attention. (And that turned out to be a huge draw: finding something that can capture your attention that fully is a great antidote at the end of the day to whatever is stressing you out. Really clears the mind.)
I would keep going back for more…