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The Silk Road

The Right Seed for the Right Soil

Every teacher knows the feeling. You pour your heart, time, and energy into a student who seems full of potential, only to watch them walk away. Some leave quietly. Others vanish without warning. No matter how it happens, it leaves behind a quiet frustration that builds over time.

We begin our journey with love for the art. We teach because it changed our lives and we want to pass that on. But somewhere along the way, many of us start to chase numbers. We begin saying yes to everyone who shows interest. We convince ourselves that success means more students, more signups, more attention.

But this approach has a cost.

Not every person who walks through the door is ready for the journey. Not every soil is ready to receive a seed. And not every student is coming for the right reasons.

Often, students are looking for a quick fix.

Not sometimes. Often. They come with energy but without roots. They want fast results, fast progress, fast rewards. They want the title, the recognition, the feeling. But not the process, the patience, or the discipline.

This is not because they are bad people. It is because the world has trained them to value speed over substance. They are used to apps, likes, rewards, and shortcuts. But the path we teach does not work that way. True Kung Fu or any serious discipline is not something you rush through. It is something that slowly transforms who you are.

When we say yes to everyone just to fill the room, we plant good seeds in shallow soil. The roots do not take. The tree does not grow.

And when the roots fail, it is not just the student who suffers. The teacher suffers too.

This is why so many teachers burn out. They are always recruiting. Always starting over. Always trying to keep students interested. But when the people coming in are not the right ones, the effort becomes heavy. You are no longer building a family. You are managing a crowd.

And the wrong crowd creates more problems than progress. You begin to feel it in the culture. Discipline weakens. Focus fades. Energy gets drained. You find yourself working harder just to keep things together.

We must learn to say no.

Not from pride, but from wisdom. Not because we want to reject people, but because we want to protect the mission. Saying no today might open space for the right student tomorrow.

It is better to lose a number than to lose the purpose.

We need to stop measuring success only by how many are present. A small group with loyalty and heart is stronger than a large group with no direction. The ones who come for a quick fix will leave at the first sign of struggle. They cannot help build something real.

So ask yourself this:

Do you want to spend your entire life teaching just to end up alone?

Do you want to train crowds who forget you?

Or do you want to look back and see a family that carries your work forward?

A living legacy.

The right seed must be planted in the right soil.

And the soil must be protected by a teacher who understands what they are truly growing.

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The Silk Road

🏯 “El Kung Fu No Se Hereda Solo: La Redención de Caminar Acompañado”

No siempre fue fácil.

Después de 30 años enseñando Kung Fu, uno creería que ya lo ha visto todo… pero algunas de las heridas más profundas no vienen de los golpes, sino de las personas en quienes uno confió.

Yo fui víctima de varios “Sifus” que, más que formar, manipulaban.

Que usaban su posición para controlar emocional y económicamente.

No eran mentores; eran carceleros disfrazados de maestros.

Y en ese ambiente, con el corazón herido y el espíritu desgastado, tomé una decisión:

“Voy a hacer mi propia cosa. Ya no necesito a nadie.”

Y así lo hice.

Desde fuera, parecía una elección fuerte, valiente, incluso práctica.

Pero la verdad es que esa decisión no nació de la claridad…

nació de la tristeza.

De la amargura.

De la frustración.

No fue fruto de independencia saludable, sino de una decepción profunda.

🌿 El deseo de un verdadero mentor nunca murió

Aunque tomé ese camino, nunca dejé de anhelar algo auténtico.

Un mentor real.

Una relación sana.

Alguien que no solo enseñara técnicas, sino que cuidara mi corazón y mi crecimiento.

Un Sifu de verdad.

Pasaron los años, y Dios fue sanando mis heridas poco a poco.

Hasta que un día, sin buscarlo forzosamente, llegó esa figura:

Mi Sifu Moy Don.

Con él, por primera vez, experimenté lo que realmente significa estar bajo cobertura, pero con dignidad.

Lo que es tener guía sin esclavitud.

Lo que es crecer sin miedo a ser usado.

Y ahí, lo entendí con más fuerza que nunca:

El Kung Fu no se hereda solo.

🧭 Hacer lo tuyo no siempre es madurez — a veces es herida

Mucha gente dice:

“Quiero hacer mi propio camino.”

“No necesito Sifu.”

“Prefiero trabajar solo.”

Y puede que algunos lo digan desde un lugar sano.

Pero muchos lo dicen, como yo lo hice, desde un corazón herido.

Desde una traición.

Desde una decepción.

Desde un liderazgo que les falló.

Pero no puedes dejar que la herida dicte tu futuro.

Separarte por defensa puede ser entendible, pero quedarte separado por orgullo… eso te detiene.

Porque crecer solo es crecer limitado.

Y esperar que un día tus estudiantes sigan tu legado,

cuando tú mismo no quisiste cuidar el de nadie…

es, honestamente, una forma de hipocresía.

🤝 El valor de una comunidad real

Hoy disfruto de algo que antes solo soñaba:

Una familia marcial real.

Un linaje vivo.

Un Sifu que no me aplasta, sino que me impulsa.

Y más aún:

hermanos que no compiten conmigo, sino que caminan conmigo.

Esto no se trata de estar de acuerdo en todo, sino de caminar con lealtad.

De tener a alguien que te corrija con amor.

Que te confronte cuando te desvías.

Que te levante cuando flaqueas.

Porque el Kung Fu no es solo técnica.

Es carácter.

Es comunidad.

Es legado.

🧍‍♂️ ¿Qué estamos enseñando con nuestro ejemplo?

Si hoy decimos:

“Yo prefiero hacer lo mío solo…”

Entonces no esperemos que un día nuestros estudiantes hagan lo contrario.

No podemos exigir lealtad, si sembramos independencia egoísta.

No podemos hablar de legado, si el nuestro nació de una ruptura sin redención.

💡 Conclusión: Volver a confiar también es Kung Fu

El camino del arte marcial no solo se trata de manos, formas y combates.

También se trata de perdonar.

De sanar.

De volver a confiar.

Y de volver a pertenecer.

Yo estuve ahí.

Solo, resentido, decepcionado.

Y aunque enseñé por muchos años,

no fue hasta que encontré un verdadero Sifu que sentí que volví a casa.

Porque el Kung Fu, como la vida…

no se hereda solo.

Categories
The Silk Road

The Plum and the Tree

There’s an old saying:

“Those who stay near cinnabar become red; those who stay near ink become black.”

It reminds us that people are shaped by who they surround themselves with.

But while that’s true, it’s also incomplete — especially in martial arts.

Too many students rely on their Sifu’s name as if standing next to a strong tree is the same as being strong themselves. I could totally say that, as I consider I come from one of the strongest lineages of the Ving Tsun system. Don’t get me wrong I am proud.

But too many people think that by just dropping names, trace their lineage proudly, respect will follow.

But here’s the truth:

The plum may fall near the tree — but it still has to ripen on its own.

Lineage Is a Starting Point, Not a Guarantee

Training under a respected Sifu is an honor. Belonging to a strong lineage is valuable.

But none of that guarantees depth, discipline, or mastery.

You still have to walk the path.

You still have to sweat, reflect, correct, and grow.

As another proverb puts it:

“The master leads you to the door, but cultivation is up to you.”

You Represent More Than a Name

Being someone’s student doesn’t automatically make you a worthy representative.

You must earn that with your attitude, your effort, and your example — not just your technique.

If you carry a great name, but act with arrogance or carelessness, you stain the legacy instead of honoring it.

Plums that rot near the tree still rot.

Only those that mature over time carry the true flavor of their origin.

We Must Walk Our Own Path to Mastery

You can speak of who taught you, but what matters more is what you’ve done with what they gave you.

True martial growth comes from personal responsibility — not borrowed glory.

Don’t just lean on the tree.

Grow from its roots.

Stretch higher, that’s what your ancestors would want for you.

Bear fruit worth tasting.

Because in the end, the tree is only honored if the fruit is good.