Articles
Unpublished

About The Author

Dr. Marc I. Oster, Psy.D. is a Clinical and Health Psychologist who maintains a practice in Highland Park, Illinois. He is also a 3rd Dan in Tang Soo Do (# 19845) who currently trains with Master Dan Jansa at the Eagle Academy of Martial Arts in Warrenville, Illinois.

What I Needed to Know About Being a Psychologist
I Learned at Karate School

In the past, I’ve written papers and conducted seminars on the process of
“living successfully” with a chronic illness as compared to “just coping;” although there is nothing insignificant about “just” coping with a serious life challenge.  I’ve taught doctoral students about the process of becoming a psychologist and the process of becoming competent.  What these experiences share in common is that old adage about, “life being a journey, not a destination.” 

In this article I will share some thoughts on the process of becoming a psychologist and the process of becoming a black belt.  A person can receive a black belt just as a person can earn a doctoral degree. They satisfy all the requirements leading up to the awarding of the rank or the degree.  This alone is a significant accomplishment.  There is, however, a difference in the process or experience of acquiring
a designation and “being” a psychologist or “being” a black belt. Some of that commonality is discussed in Forrest Morgan’s book, “Living the Martial Way”. Both involve coming to think and experience the world through the new filter - martial arts or psychology training and education. Can a psychologist ever not think like a psychologist? Can a black belt ever not think like a black belt or martial artist?  I’ve come to believe the answer to these two questions is “no”. Imagine for a moment after having spent 30 years viewing the world through the perspective of a psychologist, through the perspective of a martial artist, that one could ever “shut off” that perspective and not think or view the world, at least in part, through that filter. Not likely. At the same time it can take a very long time to integrate into our thinking a martial or warrior’s view or a psychological view. 

Below I will share some stories that I hope will make my point. I also hope to demonstrate how, after 32 years as a black belt and some 31 years as a therapist and psychologist, the two ways of being have commingled with one another – whether I choose to integrate them or not, whether I chose to practice or not, the lessons learned are always there.

While I began my formal martial arts training in 1973, at age 18, I had my first lessons in becoming a black belt and becoming a psychologist some five years earlier, around age 13, at the hands of my uncle. 

Lesson #1

My uncle was a black belt in judo back in the 1960s. One day while I was in my basement working out with weights and a heavy bag, my uncle stopped by to visit.  We were talking and he was teasing me about something I can’t recall.  In response
I shoved him. He warned me not to do that. I believe he said, “Don’t ever touch me like that again.”  One thing led to another, he said something, I said something, and I went to shove him again.  I have no recollection of what happened next. All I knew was that I seemed to have traveled upward, over his back or shoulder – in a basement with a relatively low ceiling – and ended up on my back on the floor with my uncle on top of me smiling at me, telling me, “I told you not to do that!”  WOW! What was that all about?  I never felt a thing, not him touching me, not the ceiling, not the floor – nothing!  Then my uncle said to me, “Always remember, no matter how big, how strong, or fast you become, there will always be someone bigger, stronger, and faster than you.”  So, my uncle concluded, even with all those tools, you still have to be smarter and more efficient at what you do.

I’m reminded of watching a tennis match between then old-timer Poncho Gonzales and, I believe, the then young kid, Jimmy Connors. Connors was racing back and forth running for shots while Gonzales was moving much slower, sometimes giving up shots he couldn’t reach. Gonzales moved as if every movement was well thought out and intentional. Gonzales beat Connors horribly, embarrassingly so. When asked how this could have happened, Gonzales said Connors out-classed him in speed, strength, youth, and so forth. Thus he, Gonzales, had to play and move more efficiently, smarter, in order to prevail.

Bob was one of my instructor’s early black belts and, for us, an old guy. “We” were college students at the local Tang Soo Do club, making us about 18-21 years of age.  Bob was returning to college for his graduate degree after half a dozen years off earning a living.  Bob was also returning to the club to continue his training. Bob was “old”.  Bob was 29 years of age. Bob was also much slower and less flexible than the rest of us.  Some of my classmates overlooked the fact that, in spite of Bob’s advanced age and slowed, stiffer physical movements; he had some 10 years experience as a black belt. I’m pleased to say
I was not so foolish as to invite Bob to spar, unlike some of my classmates. He accepted their invitations and repeatedly “scored” numerous points off my fellow red belts (1st - 3rd Gups). He saw their frustration and offered the following: “How about I tell you when I’m about to kick you so you can be ready and block my kick?” For them, this was too good to be true, so they agreed.  I understood what was coming next. Note a secondary lesson here: If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.  Well, Bob proceeded to announce each kick he was to execute and the target, did the kick, scored the point, and further frustrated the students. They asked Bob how he was able to do this, being “old”, slow, and less flexible. They should have at least dropped the “old” comment. Bob asked each of them to give a rough estimate how many times, over the years they’ve been training; they might have done a particular kick. They couldn’t really tell, but estimated in the previous three to four or so years, maybe 1,000 times. Bob estimated that he must have done that same kick some 15,000 times. He added that they were technically “throwing” the kick very well, but doing so with conscious thought and intent.  He, on the other hand, was the kick. The kick was a part of him. He did the kick unconsciously, without intent. For the students their kicks were a series of separate, although good quality, movements. For Bob the kick was one movement, one unconscious thought. The same explanation has been used by basketball wizard, Michael Jordan when he was asked how he seems to fly toward the basket and seemingly always makes his shot. Jordan explains that he is one with the ball; he is the shot. The other players are simply minor distractions in route to his objective. Although neither man was “old,” Michael Jordan and Bob understood how to play their game smarter than most others, and to play more efficiently and thus, more effectively.

Lesson #2

Can you ever not think like a black belt, ever not think like a psychologist? Upon receiving my black belt, and years later my doctorate, my uncle explained to me that once you earn your black belt, and similarly your doctoral degree, no one can ever take that away from you. You will be a doctor or you will be a black belt until the day you die. While you may choose not to make use of that achievement in a formal way, it will always be a part of you. Some 30 years after my uncle explained this to me upon my earning my black belt, I explained it to my nephew upon his earning his black belt. 

Some years after my uncle retired from judo competition and training, he returned to the dojo. He was approached by a 20-something black belt who inquired if this man was my uncle.  Acknowledging it was he, the young black belt invited my uncle to spar with him. Being in his judo-gi and belt, but also feeling a bit rusty, my uncle reluctantly accepted the invitation. The young black belt proceeded to work over my uncle pretty well. My uncle told me that once you are a black belt you are forever a black belt.  If you step onto the mat, there are no excuses. While no one can take your achievement away from you, you still have to live up to and respect the achievement. Years later, I was teaching a sparring class.  While sparring with another student, I tripped over my own feet and fell. A young student observing from the edge of the mat laughed at my clumsiness.  Without thinking, I backhanded the student in the face and he stopped laughing.  While that student never said a word about this, someone else reported my inappropriate behavior to the head instructor and I got quite a talking-to. Several years later, I was visiting the school and observing class. After class, a very big 20-something black belt approached me and asked if I was Marc Oster.  I said I was.  He reminded me of the incident I just described; he was the person I had backhanded.  I then had a flash of my uncle’s experience and anticipated I was about to get a beating. The young man told me he understood I got in a
lot of trouble for hitting him. He went on to say that from that point onward he has never laughed at anyone struggling to learn
a technique.  He said that my lesson to him was one of the most important lessons he learned. I thanked him and said it appeared the trouble I got into was well worth it. And, I didn’t get a beating like my uncle did. Lesson #2: once a black belt, always a black belt; once a psychologist, always a psychologist.

How do I come to be writing this article?

For the past several years, I have been looking for a way to integrate my two passions, psychology and martial arts. I was doing some research on the Internet and came to Master Terrigno’s website, www.tangsoodoworld.com. As I wandered the site, I came across links to one of my first Master Instructors, Michael March (Kalamazoo, MI) and the sites of a number of my former classmates, some of them now Master Instructors themselves. The experience of seeing and reading about so many of my former classmates and teachers was rather touching for me. It was if I had found my way home, perhaps something I didn’t know I was looking for. I emailed Master Terrigno, sharing with him my experience. We then spoke directly and he invited me to write an article for his website. But why was I looking to connect these two passions?

A few years ago I was beginning to recover from some serious health issues. Although still not “healthy,” I was becoming
more active and improving. My friend Kateri said to me one day, “I think you need to go back to karate.”  I had been away
from the martial arts for a number of years. I reminded her of this and framed my absence as having retired from the martial arts. Kateri said to me that I had not retired, that I simply stopped training. She tells me that retirement is a thoughtful conscious choice and process. I didn’t make that choice; I just stopped training. She advised me that I needed to do some research, find a school or club, talk with the instructor(s) about my situation and return to training for a period of time. Then I could make an informed decision if I wished to retire or continue my journey. She added that, in fact, I never really did stop my involvement with the martial arts. I didn’t understand her point. She added that although I wasn’t going to class or formally training, I still read magazines and some books, watched documentaries or movies, watched fights on TV, and even attended a couple of tournaments during my leave of absence.  Further, she added, the martial arts philosophy and to some degree technique was an integral part of my psychology; not only how I think and perceive things, but also how I treat and care for my patients and how I teach my psychology students. Kateri told me that although I think I left the martial arts, I never really did (i.e. Lesson #2.)  Kateri is a good friend. She is quite willing to tell me things I don’t want to hear, but need to. So, I spent a couple of months doing some research and sending emails to some local instructors and associations. I received a number of replies. I accepted an invitation to meet with Master Dan Jansa of the Eagle Academy of Martial Arts in Warrenville, IL. We discussed my situation and he invited me to come to class and “see what happens”. While there have been a few curves in the road, I’m still there and enjoying the experience tremendously.

During the time I was on hiatus from training, but working as a psychologist, utilizing, as Kateri said, my martial arts training
in my psychology practice, I had a confrontation with a violent patient. I’ll call her Joan. Joan was a woman I had treated a number of times in the hospital. She was now an out-patient, but needed to be re-hospitalized. She was suicidal and homicidal.  I evaluated her in the office and determined she needed to be taken to a hospital. I called the ambulance service and Joan and I waited for their arrival. Joan grew progressively more distraught and angry. She decided she wasn’t going to go to the hospital and was going to leave the office.  As she moved toward the door, I stepped between the door and Joan. (i.e. I stepped onto the mat.)  I stood with my back against the door with Joan facing me nose-to-nose. She was a very large and very angry woman who was terribly frightened. She was close enough to me that I could feel her breathing on my face and I could see the pupils of her eyes changing as she spoke. I knew it was vital for both our safety that, regardless of how I felt inside, I had to appear calm and in control. If Joan sensed I was feeling out of control or too fearful, it would have escalated her feeling out of control and she would have acted violently. I explained to her that I was sorry for her loss of dignity in all this.  I suggested she should decide how she wanted to get to the hospital. She could suffer a further loss of her already limited dignity and have the paramedics restrain her and carry her on the gurney out of the building and into the ambulance. Or, she could retain what dignity she had left and calmly walk out of the building without drawing any attention to herself and get into the ambulance. After some thought she chose the dignified option. Under the circumstances, this woman could have seriously hurt herself and me in the confrontation. Lessons 1 & 2:  she was bigger, stronger, and angrier than I, so I had to use my verbal skills to our advantage. And, when you step onto the mat, there are no excuses. I was on the mat with Joan and I was responsible for the care and safety of both of us. Later Joan told me that she chose the dignified option because she felt from me that I was in control and confident in what I was doing – she felt that I was able to care for her at that moment when she couldn’t care for herself. Thus she felt safe in taking my suggestion.

Lesson #3

When I had been teaching doctoral psychology students for about 10 years, a student in one of my seminars on clinical practice asked me, “When did you actually come to know what you were doing?”  I though for a moment and replied, “Last Wednesday, about noon. I was crossing the street at lunch and thinking about what I do as a psychologist and how I felt about my work, and I concluded that I was doing exactly what I hoped to be doing when I went away to college many years before, and that I thought I was pretty good at what I was doing.” Had I mastered my craft?  I had just received the equivalent of a Master’s credential in my specialty, so I must have mastered my field, right?  No, I hadn’t. I came to appreciate and understand that there is always more to know and do beyond where I am at any point in time. I was at a point on a developmental continuum. At one end of the continuum was the novice. I wasn’t a novice any longer. At the other end of the continuum, well, there really isn’t another end of the continuum. The closer you get to that “other” end, the further back that other end moves. But this is quite right. Erik Erikson taught us (psychologists) that human development doesn’t end at age 18, as we long thought, but it continues throughout life. Even into our 70s and older, we negotiate developmental changes. Thus it makes sense that there really is no endpoint to that continuum. This, of course, wasn’t good news to my students. After having spent close to 10 years in college pursuing their bachelor, master, and now doctoral degrees, and understanding there would be a post-doctoral period of further training and development, they were kind of hoping to see the light at the end of the tunnel in the next couple of years or so. What did most of our instructors tell us as we received our black belts?  “Now the real training begins.” The American Psychological Association tells us that that the doctorate is the “minimum entry level” credential for psychologists. In other words, now the journey begins.

After all these years of teaching, studying, and practicing psychology, I’ve fielded a vast array of questions from students and patients. I probably thought I’d heard most of them by now. Until this week!  A new patient asked me, “So, how good are you?”  Suddenly, I didn’t feel so masterful. How I answered his question could solidify our therapeutic relationship so we could move forward and I could help him, or it could bring to an end any chances of our working together. Lesson #3 tells us that the “journey” never ends….

…to be continued…