The first phase of training in Tulen is Cun Tao. Cun Tao means self-defense.  Students move from learning to fall safely to learning responses to 108 different attacks called “holds”, building their vocabulary of movement and skill. Eventually they can escape these attacks without thinking (standing up, sitting down, even blindfolded). 

But when you are first learning, each new hold can be intimidating – you have to learn how to attack and fall safely, and how to respond to the attack.  The fourth week of new holds is all attacks with someone grabbing and crushing your hand. 

My fourth week was taught by a terrificly skilled and gigantic brown sash named Ben with a reputation as a fierce, intimidating fighter. Ben was an artist – part of what made him such a great fighter was that he was so creative.  He was dynamic, fluid, and strong. 

We lined up at the edges of the mat and bowed in, then Ben asked for a volunteer to demonstrate. There were two men and myself on that mat.  The two had been training longer than I had but neither of them stepped up. Instead we all looked sideways at each other. 

And, then I did it. I had a fleeting thought that if none of us step up we might just stay stuck there. All of the sudden I was on the mat reaching out to crush his hand. Next I was flying through the air.  

I got back up, grabbed his hand and flew again. Ben broke down the hold into three parts and taught it to us.  We practiced throwing each other.  When he felt we had it, Ben would ask for a volunteer to show the next hold.

It took gumption – or what today we call grit.  Despite the hard throws and the unknown, everytime he asked, in the moment when I could have hesitated, I stepped out.  I was resilient in a way I didn’t know I could be.  I could feel myself wanting to hold back when instead I jumped in.  Over and over I volunteered to be thrown when the two men on the mat with me hesitated. 

Written in my first Poekoelan notebook are the 11 handcrushes we learned with Ben that day – it turns out Ben was so creative he added a few.

Standing up to your potential and taking risk is a lifelong practice. It’s not always easy and it is a challenge that has persisted throughout my training and in my career. I don’t think I will ever be done practicing. 

I can still remember the feeling of standing at the edge of the fighting circle as a blue sash, and again as a brown sash, watching the fighting and hestitating to go in and fight.  Eventually I learned to ask myself, what I was afraid of, and to remember that fear exists only in the past (what has happened already that has left a memory of fear) and in the future (what might happen but hasn’t yet), but fear does not exist in the present.  In the moment there is no time for fear, there is just the doing. I learned at the side of the fighting circle watching other fighters that just before I felt the tug of hesitation in my belly was the best time to step in.  If I waited I might let myself be so intimidated I would miss the moment. 

Putting this into practice outside of training is an even tougher lifelong challenge. And for some reason, as women especially, we are prone to hold ourselves back. We feel we aren’t good enough, have to build our skills or need more experience, before we will take calculated risks. As a result, we are often over prepared and sometimes even a bit behind others who are more willing to put themselves forward and learn by doing. I know this place intimately. Like I said even a Mas Goeroe Agoeng is still just a student training everyday.

When I was at MIT as a graduate student, in my second week of class I confessed to some peers that I intended someday to launch my own venture capital fund.  Two of my friends and still champions said, we should just do it.  We could pull together $2 million to just start.  That was my most recent adult moment of standing at the edge of the fighting circle. And, I have to confess I failed to jump in.  I decided like many women do that I needed more experience. That I wasn’t ready. Those were my fears talking. It has taken me 6 years to remember the feeling at the side of the fighting circle and the lesson that sometimes the best way to combat that fear is to dive in and do. 

In the meantime, I prepare with patience, practice and perseverance, so when the next opportunity presents itself, I am ready to step into the circle.