I first met my Sifu in Puerto Rico, and it was an encounter I’ll never forget. At the time, I didn’t even know he practiced Ving Tsun. He had come to Puerto Rico on vacation but kindly agreed to visit my class, which I held in a worn-out park. Naturally, I was curious about his martial arts background, so I asked him, “Do you know Ving Tsun?” His response? “A little.” Looking back, that’s like asking Picasso if he dabbles in painting!
After our meeting, I decided to send him a friend request on Facebook. That’s when my curiosity turned into full-blown investigative work (okay, fine, stalking). As I scrolled through his posts, it quickly became clear that he was far more than he let on. This wasn’t just someone who “knew a little” about Ving Tsun—this was someone deeply immersed in the art, with connections and accomplishments I hadn’t even imagined.
It wasn’t long before I attended my first Tallahassee Ving Tsun Summit. I Ubered to what I thought was his house, but when I arrived, I seriously questioned if I was in the right place. The house was alive with energy—full of Kung Fu family members and enthusiasts. It felt like a gathering of masters, not your typical living room. I hesitated at the door, convinced I’d made a mistake. But no—it was his house.
Sifu introduced me to everyone with a level of respect I had never experienced before. He didn’t present me as just another guest but as Sifu Rafael González. Despite being far more skilled and experienced, he treated me as an equal, never dismissing or undermining me. That moment left a lasting impression on me.
But I’m naturally skeptical. Life had taught me to be cautious of those who claim to be masters or Sifus. Too many had used me for their benefit, so I resisted the idea of fully committing to him as my teacher. I asked endless questions, testing his patience at every turn. Still, he remained my friend, never pushing me or rejecting me, even though I tried to get as much information from him as I could without officially asking him to be my Sifu.
One day, during a visit to my town, he invited me to a school he was visiting. Without a word, he gestured for us to play Chi Sao.
What happened next was nothing short of magical.
As we played, I realized my body was no longer mine. Every intention, every movement I tried to make, was intercepted before it even began. It felt like I was being controlled by an invisible force. My only thought was, “What kind of sorcery is this?”
That was the moment everything changed. I didn’t know what this was, but I knew I needed to learn it. I officially asked him to be my teacher, and he graciously accepted. Today, I am proud to say I am an internal student and part of a Kung Fu family that has transformed my life.
As I continued training, I began to notice changes in myself. Challenges that once seemed insurmountable became manageable. Opponents who had always been difficult to control now felt effortless. How did this happen? Sifu taught me to look inward—to focus on myself rather than my opponent. It’s simple in theory but profound in practice.
The internal aspect of Kung Fu—though I have a long way to go—is the greatest treasure I’ve discovered. And I owe it all to him.
Sifu has been more than just a teacher. He is a friend, a mentor, and a guide. He has shown me the importance of family, the value of being part of a supportive network, and the wisdom of following someone who has already walked the path to success. This article is my way of saying Thank You for showing me the true Kung Fu life.
As Sifu often says:
• “Relationships matter.”
• “Make friends just because you can.”
• “The only enemy in life is time.”
Thank you, Sifu Thornton Williams (Moy Don), for your patience, your guidance, and your friendship. You never gave up on me, and for that, I am forever grateful.