I was raised to be to be a fighter.  My father felt it was his duty to ensure his sons knew how to "use their hands."  So my brothers and I were enrolled in Jiu Jitsu and Karate classes as soon as we could walk.  

While other kids were playing stick ball in the street, we were in the house practicing jabs and right hooks.

"Don't come home crying," he used to warn us before we left to go play with friends.  We were told to never start fights, but if things went sideways, we were expected to finish them.  

That being said, at the age of 10 I made the mistake of letting a bully chase me home from the bus stop.  My dad came home from work, and found me sitting in our living room; covered in sweat and panting from my run.  As soon as I told him what happened, I knew what was coming next.

"Where does he live," my father growled as he pulled me off the couch.  Then he walked down the street with me to the bully's house.  That kid was 3 years older than me, and a foot taller.  But my dad didn't care.  Win, lose, or draw, I was going to learn how to stand up for myself... 

I never had to run home again.

At the age of 17, I decided to enlist in the Marines.  But when you're that young, both parents have to sign a contract saying that you can enlist.  

But there was a war going on, and Dad didn't want to be responsible for a decision that might get me killed.  So he refused to sign.  But being my father's son, I just waited until I was 18, and I enlisted without his permission.  

The Marine Corps. finished what my father started.

It taught me discipline and patience.  It taught me how to keep fighting in the face of absolutely impossible odds.  And it taught me how to protect the ones I love.  I served in Iraq and Afghanistan as a Marine.  Those experiences made me very grateful for the life I have today.

These days, I'm still fighting.  But the battle isn't with a schoolyard bully or an army overseas.  The enemy I'm facing today is all of the greed, anger, and ignorance that lives within me.  And when the enemy comes I don't take refuge in my fists or my rifle as I once did.

I take refuge in the law; in the Dharma teachings that Buddha gave us 2,600 years ago.  I battle anger with gratitude.  I fight greed with generosity.  And twice a day, I sit in meditation, and practice not responding to whatever emotion rises within me.

This is the hardest battle I've ever fought.  The enemy is relentless, and for every three steps forward I'm often forced to take two steps back.  There are days when I want to run away, just like I ran from that bully when I was kid.  But my father's voice rings loudly in my ears.

"Don't come home crying," he says to me, "I didn't raise you to be weak." 

And I find myself sitting on the cushion once again.  This practice isn't for the fainthearted.  You have to be willing to suffer.  You have to willing to endure; to stare down all the prejudice, grief, and pain that's buried within you.

But I've found that when I'm willing to fight that battle, when I'm willing to be the son that my father raised me to be,  then I always come out better on the other side.

This is a life-long practice, and the struggle will never end.  But that's okay.  I was raised to be a fighter.

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The Battle Within