Ever since I was little, my brother and I have been involved in martial arts. We grew up in the Bay Area, but when I was 15 my family moved to Nevada. In the transition, we both fell out of practice, though a few years ago my brother started up again, and quickly took over one of the schools in town.

My brother and his best friend, also another instructor in town, both badgered me to rejoin and start studying again. However, I had the best excuse; I was working a full time job and going to school, and with my busy work and study schedule, I kept telling them there was just no time for me to spare. When I finally graduated school, my brother came up to me during the party afterwards, and said, “Well, now that you have your schedule freed up, I’ll see you in class tomorrow morning at 7.”

Since jumping back into a martial art, the one thing I’ve noticed most of all is just how damn good my brother is, not just at his teaching, but at his own technique. He always tells us in class the difference between a student of martial arts, and a martial artist himself. A student learns the techniques and regurgitates, but the artist adapts and flows without blinking an eye or locking up in a moment of panic. A true martial artist doesn’t just show how something is done, but teaches how to accomplish. Watching him spar in tournaments, teaching a class of adults or little kids techniques and the application and theory behind the movements, or just seeing him practice on his own, it is clear that my brother has become an artist.

There is something truly astounding about the human body and how it can move, generate power, or pass seemlessly from one movement pattern into another. And in the hands of the true artist, it is incredibly beautiful. Footwork that flows like water, strikes that are crisp and hands always find their target, all brought together with a sharp mind ever anticipating the next two moves.

Recently, my brother and his friend decided that they had reached a point in their training and teaching, that they had to open their own school. They used to work for the same martial arts studio chain, but like any artist, began to feel confined by a homogenized and generic “one-size-fits-all” style. Yesterday was their last day teaching at their respective studios, and after class I went with my brother and his friend to their studio space. They have their work cut out for them; they are doing all the inside renovations and painting themselves. They are taking this week to tear up the floor and lay down a new one.

Though the work ahead is a lot, and they will face all of the challenges of opening a new business, I couldn’t help but feel just a little pang of jealousy walking around their new building. The excitement of starting something that is truly your own, the thrill of its success at your own hands, and the knowledge that through great risk, a belief in yourself made it possible.

I wish my brother all the best in his new business. I pray that he finds success, and is rewarded for all of his hard work. I am so proud of him.