無 / 有 – Sungwon Peter Choe Online

The Virtues of Immodesty

Learning to take a compliment

I live in Korea. Invariably, whenever you get into a friendly conversation with a Korean, they will compliment you one way or another.

“Your Korean is really good!” 

“You look like Jonny Depp!”

“You’ve got such a small head! It’s this big!” 

The last said while protruding a clenched fist resembling a gesture that would be extremely offensive in some European countries, I imagine. (And yes, saying the size of someone’s head is diminutive is a compliment.)

I used to respond with modesty as good manners, American or Confucian, dictate. 

“Oh, it’s not that good.”

“No, it’s just my dreadlocks.”

“Oh, well, I’ve always thought large heads were cool!”

But there’s nothing wrong in taking a compliment. In fact, I’ve always felt somewhat uncomfortable with answering modestly, as if there was something embarrassing and dishonest about it.

“Thank you”, however, is simple and beautiful. It’s honest and direct. It implicitly shows that you’re capable of making a real connection with someone right away rather than tip-toeing around protocol.

Loving commitment

Now suppose someone found out that I was in a band. They’d ask me what instrument I played and I’d qualify it with “…but I’m not that good.” Same with martial arts. “Yeah, I do this really amazing martial art called Gicheonmun as well as Haedonggumdo, which is based on Gicheon, but I’m not that good.”

Automatic responses are one of the banes of self-development and living consciously. Being modest when not necessary is a special strain of automatic response that directly shapes your identity negatively.

“…but I’m not that good.” 

This mantra of modesty becomes your reality. You portray yourself as mediocre to others and that becomes your identity without and within. 

What happens when you own up to your interests? When you publicly declare your love for your passions?

“Oh, you’re in a band. What instrument do you play?”

“Bass. I’m a bassist”.

Yeah. Rock that. \m/

You begin to identify with your passions. I don’t just play bass. I’m a bassist. I don’t just have a black belt in Haedonggumdo, I’m a martial artist. Of course, I really need to practice bass more if I want to play at the level of my bandmates. Of course, I really need to polish my sword forms to live up to the black belt I’m entitled to wear. But simply identifying myself with these pursuits states my enduring commitment to them. 

That’s right, I love music!!! I love training my body to flow!!! (here used as David Deida does, see Function, Flow and Glow) There is no need to be secretive with these loves. They are not jealous and our love grows stronger in the sharing. 

Once you’ve identified with your loves, you begin to learn to fully engage with them. When I practice, I am engaged in practice, not in thoughts of deliciously greasy thin crust pizza or the inviting soft curves of a woman’s body. When I train, I am engaged in training, not in the subtleties of the presentation I have to give tomorrow or if I will have enough money this month to make my investing goals.

Embrace.

Identify.

Love.

I’m alive when my passions scream.

Modesty be damned.