The Art of Mental Training - a Guide to Performance Excellence (Classic Edition) by D. C. Gonzalez

matter of learning how
to leave your conscious mind out of it,” he reminded me, “and letting your
training take over.  And don’t forget that sometimes improvement means letting
go of old ways, Danielsan.  So remain open to learning, and rest assured that
it will take courage to achieve your goals and reach your full potential.  Get
ready to work hard.”
    As I stepped outside, I got the
feeling that he wasn’t quite ready to let me go—I wondered later if perhaps he
was remembering my brother at that moment.
    He looked at me.  “The most
important thing is how a champion prepares for battle.  You must find the
warrior within.  You must do battle with all your heart in order to have no
regrets as you leave the contest behind.  A champion always prepares to win. 
Remember to act like a champion in order to become a champion.”
    “I will.” I assured him as we
shook hands.  He knew how grateful I was for everything.
    He smiled, “You did well
today.”
    And with that, Leo-tai brought
my lesson to an end.
    It would be a long time before
I would see Leo-tai again.  First would come Grenada, then Panama, and finally
the Middle East.
     
    Remember:  A champion always
prepares to win.
     
    The
Art of Mental Training

Chapter 25:  Walk On
     
    As we took a long walk on the
coastline near his home I caught myself reflecting on how all the years seemed
to have passed by so quickly ever since that last lesson so many years ago. 
Leo-tai still had that same effortless stride that he'd made me keep up with so
many times before . . . We walked a long time in companionable silence,
surrounded by seagulls, wind, and waves.
    When we finally stopped Leo-tai
sat himself up on a comfortable-looking rock and I leaned up against an even
bigger one.  He crinkled up his eyes as he looked out to sea and I noticed for
the first time that he looked tired.  (How old was Leo-tai?  I wondered; I’d
never even asked.)
    “Look at the waves,” he
murmured.  “Endlessly renewing themselves, endlessly feeding into each other. 
There’s no end to them.  No, just the renewal and withdrawal, over and over
again.”
    A seagull circled over the
rocks.
    “It is the cycle of the earth,”
said Leo-tai.  “We’re here, we’re gone.  We are born and we die.  The world
keeps turning, but too slowly for our understanding.”
    “I hope you’re not intending to
die any day soon,” I joked, a bit uneasily.
    “Who knows?  So much is not
given to us to know.  But, even if this should happen, Danielsan, it is not the
end.  It is only the beginning of something else, something different.  This is
why I never say good-bye.”
    I was startled to realize that
this was true.  In all the years I’d known Leo-tai; he’d always just drifted
off, or shut the door with a smile.  I couldn’t ever remember his saying,
“Goodbye.”
    Something about his tone made
me glance at him again, was this the goodbye he never actually said?  Was he
going where someone else needed him more?  It had been years since we had
trained together steadily, but he always seemed to be there, the voice on the
end of a telephone, the letter from some place I’d never been, a presence by my
shoulder, his teachings now always a part of me.
    “Now,” he said, once he was
settled.  “Tell me why you are sad.”
    “Sad? I don’t think I’d call it
being sad,” I said.  “Perhaps feeling a little lost—somewhat incomplete . . .
yes—but not sad.”
    So much had changed.  The
military had put me in hot spots all over the world.  I had seen enough.  I was
done with it.  I had managed to walk away—unlike some of my friends, and life
had dealt some devastating blows.  I sensed that he could tell that I wasn’t
kidding, that I was really disillusioned with everything . . . Yet he at least
was still the same, still watching me with that old, considering look in his
eyes.
    “You’ve become disillusioned.” 
He said.
    “That’s an