Eye Square Martial Arts

Cultural Preservation… with Bruises (sometimes).

Category: Philosophy & Mindset

Thought pieces, reflections, and martial ethics.

Don’t Do the Enemy a Favor

I recently came across a photo from Comic Con—one of those celebrity photo ops you pay for.

I got to meet Jason David Frank. Tommy. The Green Ranger. The White Ranger. (I think he even became the Red Ranger in one of the later series.) This guy was one of my childhood inspirations. I wanted to study martial arts because of him—and because of The Karate Kid.

I didn’t get into martial arts until my 20s, but by the time I met him, I was 15 years into my journey. It was a big moment. I was starstruck and totally tongue-tied—especially after he complimented my back stance. That meant a lot.

Life had gotten busy, and Comic Con had kind of lost its luster. But I always told myself I’d go back if Jason David Frank ever made another appearance.

He never did.

Jason David Frank took his own life in 2022.

Finding that photo made me want to write this post. Around the same time, I saw a video from Habitual Line Crosser. He was talking about the epidemic of military and veteran suicide. At one point, he pulled out the full military “knife hand” and said, very seriously:

“Don’t do the enemy a fucking favor!”

He put it that way to get the point across to military types. And while I never served the sentiment stuck with me.

That line wasn’t just for vets. It’s something that anyone might need to hear. I know I did.

I’ll never get the chance to tell Jason Frank what his influence meant to me. But maybe this post will help someone else instead.

So if you’re in that dark place right now, please hear me:

DON’T DO THE ENEMY A FUCKING FAVOR.

Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.

If you’re wrestling with those thoughts, reach out. Please.

988 is the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. Call or text anytime.

You matter. You’re not alone.

06/27/2025
The Right to Self-Defense: Why It Exists and What It Really Means

Violence, whether we like it or not, is part of the human experience. And with it comes the unavoidable question: when force is used against you, do you have the right to respond with force of your own?

The right to self-defense is one of the oldest and most widely recognized principles in legal and moral thought. It predates the Constitution, exists in nearly every legal system in the world, and resonates with something deeply instinctual—when faced with danger, we should be able to protect ourselves and those we care about.

But how far does that right go? And in the American context, how does the firearm—perhaps the most effective and controversial tool of modern self-defense—fit into that framework?

Self-Defense: A Natural Right

At its core, the right to self-defense isn’t granted by any government. It’s a natural right—meaning it exists independent of laws, documents, or institutions. You don’t need a license to try to survive. And societies that recognize this right tend to codify it in laws that allow individuals to use force, sometimes even deadly force, when confronted with imminent harm.

The American legal tradition, rooted in English common law, has always acknowledged this. Early colonists lived in conditions where law enforcement might be days away—if it existed at all. The responsibility for personal safety started at home and extended to family, property, and community.

The Second Amendment as a Backstop

Enter the Second Amendment. While it’s often viewed through the lens of resistance to tyranny, it also plays a crucial role in reinforcing the right of individuals to be prepared for self-defense. It doesn’t create the right—it protects it from infringement.

Modern debates often miss this point. The Second Amendment isn’t about hunting, and it’s not exclusively about militias. It’s about ensuring that individuals have the practical means to respond to threats when law enforcement can’t—or won’t—arrive in time.

“Whatever Means Are Necessary”

When I say I believe in defending yourself by whatever means are necessary, I don’t say that recklessly. Violence should always be the last resort. But if a threat is real, immediate, and unavoidable, the response should be effective.

And firearms, for many Americans, are simply the most effective tool available. They are a force equalizer. They don’t rely on size, strength, or youth. They allow a 110-pound woman to stop a 250-pound attacker. They allow a disabled veteran to defend his home when help is minutes—or miles—away.

This isn’t about paranoia. It’s about preparation. And it starts with recognizing that the right to self-defense is real, valid, and worth protecting.

Closing Thought

Self-defense isn’t about looking for a fight—it’s about having the means to survive one. In the next part of this series, we’ll explore how firearms became woven into American culture and why that history matters more than ever in today’s debate.

06/26/2025
Bonus: Where It All Began – Regional Roots of Filipino Martial Arts
Filipino Martial Arts aren’t a single unified system—they’re a constellation of styles, strategies, and traditions, shaped by the geography, culture, and history of the islands they come from. Each region brought something to the table, and understanding those roots helps us appreciate just how diverse and adaptable FMA really is.

Luzon – Arnis and Blade Discipline

In the northern islands, especially in central and northern Luzon, the term Arnis de Mano became dominant. While there are stick systems, blade work has always been a big deal here—particularly with bolos, talibongs, and other agricultural tools-turned-weapons. Systems here often emphasize:
- Flow drills (Anyo or Sayaw)
- Blade-first mentality
- Integration with cultural dances and traditions
- Strong Spanish-era fencing influence
Notable provinces: Pangasinan, Ilocos, Nueva Ecija, and parts of Central Luzon.

Visayas – Eskrima and Impact Power

The Visayas are the heartland of Eskrima (or Esgrima, derived from Spanish fencing). In Cebu, Negros, Iloilo, and nearby islands, you’ll find some of the most systematized and well-known FMA styles. Eskrima in this region is known for:
- Close-range stick fighting
- Fast, aggressive striking
- Conceptual flow (defanging the snake, zoning)
- Family-based systems passed down generation to generation
Notable systems: Balintawak, Doce Pares, Cacoy Doce Pares, and others that trace their roots to Cebu.

Mindanao – Kali and Tribal Warrior Influence

While the term Kali is debated and varies by usage, it’s often associated with Mindanao and the southern Philippines. These regions have long histories of resistance and warrior traditions among the Moro people and indigenous tribes. Kali here carries:
- Blade-centric training (kris, kampilan, barong)
- Influence from Islamic and tribal warrior culture
- Integrated weapons systems (sword, shield, spear)
- Tactics suited for actual tribal warfare and skirmish combat
Notable areas: Sulu, Cotabato, Lanao del Sur, Zamboanga, Maguindanao

Tagalog and Bicol Regions – Hybrids and Hidden Arts

In the southern Luzon regions (Tagalog belt and Bicol), FMA systems often flew under the radar. These arts were passed down through families, embedded in ritual and custom. They may not have always had formal names, but they were battle-tested and efficient.
- Bolos and machete work
- Stick and knife integration
- Farm tool adaptability
- Often blended with local dance or religious festivities for concealment
Why Regional Origins Matter

Knowing where an art comes from helps you understand why it looks the way it does. Terrain, local weapons, colonial contact, and even climate shaped how people fought. A system from the highlands of Luzon looks different than one from the flatlands of Cebu—or the jungle regions of Mindanao.

The magic of FMA is that it all works together. Each system reflects its environment, but the principles—movement, timing, adaptability—are universal.

So whether you call it Arnis, Eskrima, Kali, or something else entirely, know this: you’re tapping into centuries of innovation, rooted in the land, the people, and the fight to survive.
06/25/2025
The Filipino Martial Arts Bookshelf: An Annotated Reading List

If you’ve ever been cracked on the knuckles during a sinawali drill and thought, “There’s gotta be a story behind all this,” you’re absolutely right.

Filipino Martial Arts—Arnis, Eskrima, Kali—are more than just sticks and strikes. They’re deeply rooted in the history, culture, and resistance of the Philippine islands. Whether you’re new to the arts or have been swinging a baston for years, understanding where it all comes from adds depth to every movement.

Here’s a handpicked, annotated list of books and films to deepen your knowledge of FMA and the cultural forces that shaped it.

🗡️ Historical and Cultural Foundations

1. Barangay: Sixteenth-Century Philippine Culture and Society – William Henry Scott
A must-read for precolonial Filipino life. It covers warfare, social classes, and how early communities functioned. Great for understanding the roots of indigenous martial traditions.

2. Looking for the Prehispanic Filipino – William Henry Scott
Debunks colonial myths and gives voice to what pre-Spanish Filipino life may have really looked like. Think of it as the historical groundwork beneath your footwork.

3. An Anarchy of Families – Edited by Alfred W. McCoy
Less about martial arts directly, but packed with insight on how power, violence, and family dynasties shaped Filipino society. It gives context to how martial skills were preserved and used.

🏋️️ Martial Arts-Specific Studies

4. The Filipino Martial Arts – Dan Inosanto
The book that opened Western eyes to FMA. A solid intro with history, technique, and personal stories. If you train, you should own this.

5. Filipino Martial Culture – Mark V. Wiley
Part cultural anthropology, part martial arts tour. Interviews, system overviews, and an honest look at how the arts have evolved.

6. The History of Filipino Martial Arts – Felipe P. Jocano Jr.
An academic and practitioner’s view. This one digs into the historical transitions FMA went through—from tribal warfare to colonial resistance.

🌍 FMA in the Modern World

7. Kali’s Odyssey – Christopher Ricketts (interviews)
A look at how FMA traveled with the Filipino diaspora, especially into the U.S. You’ll get a feel for how the art continues to evolve abroad.

8. RA 9850 (2009): The Arnis Law
Not a book, but an official recognition by the Philippine government naming Arnis the national martial art and sport. A big deal for preservation and legitimacy.

🎥 Documentaries and Oral Histories

9. Eskrimadors (2010, Dir. Kerwin Go)
A well-produced doc on Cebu-based masters and their systems. Solid footage and interviews. If you want to see FMA in action, start here.

10. The Bladed Hand (2012, Dir. Jay Ignacio)
Explores the global reach of FMA with interviews from masters around the world. Shows how the art thrives far beyond the islands.

Final Thoughts

You can swing a stick without knowing the history. But once you do know the history? Every strike hits different.

Whether you’re building your bookshelf or your footwork, these resources will help you connect the dots between the blade, the hand, and the culture that shaped them both.

06/24/2025
Part 6: Preservation and Progress – The Future of Filipino Martial Arts

Today, Filipino Martial Arts stand at a crossroads. They’ve survived colonization, revolution, war, and globalization. They’ve been featured in movies, adapted for law enforcement, and spread to every corner of the world. And now, with a growing generation of modern practitioners, FMA faces two big questions: how do we preserve what matters, and how do we keep evolving?

The National Sport (Sort Of)

In 2009, Arnis was officially declared the national martial art and sport of the Philippines (RA 9850). This was a big win for visibility—but it also came with a twist. Sport Arnis is often different from traditional or combative FMA. With padded sticks, headgear, and point systems, it focuses on speed and scoring rather than real-world application.

That’s not a bad thing—it gets kids involved, builds pride, and creates structured exposure. But the challenge is keeping the deeper knowledge alive: the blade work, the body mechanics, the cultural roots.

The Preservationists

Some schools, families, and organizations have made it their mission to preserve the old ways. They focus on blade-first methodology, traditional drills, and lineage-based instruction. For these groups, the art isn’t just about self-defense—it’s about honoring ancestors, respecting culture, and transmitting wisdom that’s too important to lose.

These practitioners are often cautious about modernization. For them, losing the cultural backbone of the art is a greater threat than losing students. And they’re not wrong—without context, it’s just choreography with sticks.

The Innovators

On the flip side, you’ve got the evolution crowd. They’re mixing FMA with Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, Muay Thai, firearms training, and more. They see the art as a toolkit—built for adaptation. Their goal is practicality, efficiency, and survivability in modern conflict scenarios.

They’ve helped bring FMA into the tactical world—training law enforcement, military, and private security. They’re forging new drills and rediscovering the old in light of modern challenges. And they’ve got the bruises to prove it works.

Cultural Renaissance

Thanks to social media, documentaries, and a growing interest in indigenous knowledge, FMA is having a cultural moment. Young Filipinos at home and abroad are starting to reconnect with the art. They’re digging into history, learning from elders, and sharing their journey online.

It’s not just about technique—it’s about identity. About reclaiming something that was almost lost. And about saying, “This is ours. This matters.”

Where It’s Headed

The future of Filipino Martial Arts isn’t about choosing preservation or progress. It’s about balance.

It’s about keeping the blades sharp, the stories alive, and the community growing. Whether you train for tradition, for self-defense, or for the love of movement, you’re part of something bigger. Something old. Something alive.

And if we do it right, the next generation will inherit an art that’s just as effective, just as rooted, and just as proudly Filipino as ever.

Because the real weapon has always been the will to pass it on.

06/23/2025
Part 5: From Jungle to Global – The Rise of Modern Filipino Martial Arts

After surviving centuries of colonization and a world war, Filipino Martial Arts emerged from the smoke not just intact—but ready to travel. The second half of the 20th century marked the beginning of FMA’s transformation from a secret kept in backyards and barrios to a respected, global martial system. And it all started with one simple truth: people started talking.

Veterans Started Teaching

After WWII, many of the men who had fought in the jungles came home and began organizing what they had learned. Some were already informal teachers. But now, systems began to form. Drills were refined. Techniques were cataloged. And for the first time, many of these arts got names—Modern Arnis, Doce Pares, Balintawak, Pekiti-Tirsia, and more.

Martial arts schools popped up in the Philippines, often still taught behind homes, in church courtyards, or anywhere with enough space to swing a stick. Rank systems were introduced. Uniforms were optional, but pride was not.

The Diaspora Effect

As Filipinos migrated abroad—to the U.S., Canada, Australia, Europe—they took their culture with them. And that included their martial arts. What started as stick drills in garages or parks turned into full-blown schools. Filipino martial artists in California played a huge role in spreading the art—especially in places like Stockton and Los Angeles.

And then, of course, came a little boost from Hollywood.

Enter Bruce Lee (and Dan Inosanto)

When Bruce Lee started exploring martial arts beyond Wing Chun, he found himself learning from Dan Inosanto—a Filipino-American martial artist trained in FMA. Suddenly, Filipino techniques were showing up on the big screen. Knife work, stick drills, limb destructions—they all looked cool and hit hard.

This was huge. Bruce Lee gave FMA a moment on the world stage. Dan Inosanto gave it structure, visibility, and credibility. And the global martial arts community started paying attention.

From Combat to Curriculum

By the 1980s and 90s, FMA was becoming a staple in military combatives programs, law enforcement training, and civilian self-defense. The arts adapted again—this time for modern threats. Knife defense. Weapon retention. Multiple attacker scenarios. The same principles that worked against invading forces now applied to street-level survival.

Seminars became the norm. Global organizations formed. Filipino grandmasters were invited to teach internationally. What was once a village art had become a global phenomenon.

The Cultural Tradeoff

Of course, with growth comes change. Some systems leaned into sport formats. Others clung fiercely to tradition. Still others got sliced and diced into weekend workshops with little cultural context. But through it all, one thing remained: the arts still worked.

They remained brutal, efficient, adaptable—and unapologetically Filipino.

In the next chapter, we’ll bring things up to the present and explore how Arnis, Eskrima, and Kali are being preserved, promoted, and practiced today—and what it means to be a modern-day practitioner of these warrior arts.

06/22/2025
Part 4: Brass Knuckles and Bolos – Filipino Martial Arts in the American Era and WWII

By the end of the 19th century, Spain had worn out its welcome—and the United States saw an opportunity. After the Spanish-American War in 1898, the Philippines was handed off like a consolation prize. What followed was decades of American occupation, a war for independence, and one of the most brutal chapters in world history: World War II. Through it all, Filipino martial arts kept adapting—and proving their worth in real combat.

The Philippine-American War and Guerilla Reality

From 1899 to 1902, the First Philippine Republic fought fiercely against American forces. While the Americans had rifles, Filipinos fought with whatever they had—bolos, spears, and raw determination. It was a guerrilla war, and FMA was central to it. The jungle wasn’t just terrain—it was a training ground.

Even after official hostilities ended, pockets of resistance continued. These fighters didn’t wear uniforms, and they didn’t fight by the book. They moved fast, used ambush tactics, and hit where it hurt. And they passed down their skills quietly—just like during the Spanish era.

From Training Grounds to School Grounds

The Americans brought with them a love of boxing, baseball, and a school system that emphasized “civilized” sports. Martial arts weren’t part of the curriculum, but that didn’t stop them from thriving in the provinces. Systems were preserved within families or taught through private tutelage. In some cases, stick fighting even became part of physical education—but only in its most watered-down, sportified form.

Still, many of the old masters kept the real material alive. Backyard lessons. Nighttime training. Real-deal blade work.

The War That Changed Everything

When World War II hit, the Japanese occupation of the Philippines was brutal. Civilians became soldiers, and martial skill became survival skill. FMA practitioners—some already veterans of resistance against the Spanish or Americans—once again took to the jungles.

Many Filipino fighters served alongside American forces in irregular units like the USAFFE and various guerrilla groups. And yes—FMA was used. Bolos were standard gear. Improvised weapons, ambush tactics, blade work, hand-to-hand combat—it wasn’t theory. It was life or death.

The Influence of WWII on FMA

The war created a generation of hardened fighters. Some would go on to systematize what they’d learned in blood. When the war ended and the Philippines became independent in 1946, many of these warriors began to teach in earnest.

This was the era that produced legends. Many of the grandmasters who shaped Modern Arnis, Doce Pares, Balintawak, and other systems came of age during or just after WWII. Their systems were forged from experience.

A Legacy of Resistance and Reinvention

From machetes against muskets to bolos against bayonets, Filipino martial arts remained what they had always been: practical, adaptable, and dangerous. The American period and World War II didn’t just test the arts—they validated them.

In the next chapter, we’ll explore how Filipino martial arts went from village secrets to global exports—thanks to migration, Hollywood, and one very influential Bruce Lee.

06/21/2025
Part 3: Sticks, Steel, and Sermons – Martial Survival in the Spanish Era

So the Spanish rolled up in 1521 with muskets, missionaries, and an overwhelming desire to replace your bladed traditions with a rosary and a tax receipt. Over the next three centuries, they built churches, rewrote local laws, and did their absolute best to suppress indigenous martial culture. But Filipinos? They adapted. And they did it with style.

Blades Banned, But Not Forgotten

One of the first moves by Spanish colonial powers was to disarm the local population. Blades, spears, and shields were seen as threats to the colonial order. Public displays of martial prowess were restricted or outright banned. So how did warriors keep training? They got sneaky.

Martial techniques were tucked into dances, fiestas, and stage plays. Rituals that looked religious were sometimes rehearsals in disguise. Instead of swinging a kampilan, people started training with sticks—because sticks didn’t scare the priests nearly as much.

From Blades to Bastons

Enter the baston: the humble rattan stick. What looks like a walking stick or stage prop became the training tool of choice. Not because it was ideal—but because it was legal. Systems like what would later be called Arnis de Mano began to flourish underground, taught within families or in backyards behind nipa huts.

The switch to sticks didn’t dilute the danger—it made the art more deceptive. The same motion that could disarm someone with a blade could be practiced with a stick. The concepts of timing, footwork, angling, and deception were preserved.

Spanish Influence: Not All Bad

It wasn’t just suppression; there was also fusion. Spanish fencing—especially the use of the espada y daga (sword and dagger)—left a mark. Filipino fighters absorbed concepts like linear movement, thrusting mechanics, and blade alignment, then ran them through the local flavor mill.

What came out wasn’t a watered-down version—it was a hybrid. And it worked.

Theater, Dance, and the Art of Disguise

Public exhibitions like moro-moro plays were often vehicles for preserving martial techniques. Actors—many of them trained fighters—would stage choreographed duels between Christians and Moros. The audience saw entertainment. Practitioners saw drills, timing, and hidden lessons.

Fiestas were another cover. While the town celebrated, someone’s uncle was showing the kids how to chamber properly during a stick “dance.” And since many priests didn’t speak the local dialects fluently, a lot of the instruction went under the radar.

Resistance Through Movement

Despite the colonial clampdown, resistance movements continued. Revolts throughout the islands—like the Dagohoy Rebellion—were often powered by martial knowledge passed down despite the bans. It wasn’t just about sticking it to the colonizers. It was about preserving identity, dignity, and capability.

The Underground Forge

The Spanish era didn’t kill Filipino martial arts. It reforged them.

It pushed the arts into back alleys, behind churches, and into family homes. And that pressure cooked something powerful. By the time the Spanish were on their way out, the arts hadn’t just survived—they’d evolved.

In the next chapter, we’ll look at what happens when colonial powers switch from Spanish to American, and how the arts adapted once again to survive—this time in the shadow of Westernization and war.

06/20/2025
Part 2: Blades Before the Colonizers – Precolonial Martial Foundations

Before the Spanish showed up with muskets, crosses, and colonial paperwork, the islands that make up the Philippines were already well-acquainted with violence. And not just the random bar fight kind. We’re talking raiding parties, tribal warfare, and a strong warrior culture that existed long before anyone yelled “Viva España!”

Tribal Warfare Was the Norm

The Philippines wasn’t a unified nation—it was a scattered network of barangays, each with its own leaders, alliances, and beefs. And when diplomacy broke down (which it often did), warriors handled things the old-fashioned way: with blades, spears, and shields. These weren’t just skirmishes—they were life-or-death showdowns that shaped territory and power.

The Warrior Classes

Society had room for fighters. Depending on the region, you had names like bagani (Visayas), timawa, or maharlika (Luzon). These weren’t casual weekend warriors. They were trained, respected, and often tattooed as living resumes of the battles they’d survived. Their job? Protect the village, lead raids, and, occasionally, flex a little for the gods.

Weapons of the Time

Filipino ingenuity meant there was no shortage of bladed instruments: the kampilan (a long, tapered sword), the barong (a wide leaf-shaped blade), the bolo, spears, and the ever-versatile rattan stick. Shields like the kalasag were made from hardwood and rattan, designed to take a beating and keep you alive. The weapons were practical, brutal, and tailored for island warfare.

Training Before There Were Belts

There weren’t uniforms or dojos, but make no mistake—people trained. Knowledge was passed from parent to child, from warrior to apprentice. Techniques were embedded in rituals, dances, and community storytelling. A ceremonial dance might just have a blade hidden in the rhythm. You learned by doing, by mimicking, and by surviving.

Spiritual Roots and Cultural Layers

Fighting wasn’t just about killing. It was tied to spiritual beliefs. Warriors often invoked ancestral spirits before battle. Tattoos weren’t just flex—they were sacred. The body was both armor and canvas, with each design representing achievements, protection, or tribal affiliation.

The Evidence We Have

Most of what we know comes from Spanish chroniclers, early explorers, and modern anthropology. Some of it’s biased, some of it inferred, and a lot of it preserved through oral tradition. But the bottom line? The Filipino people were already warriors long before colonizers took notice.

So when we talk about Arnis, Eskrima, or Kali, we’re not just talking about fighting systems. We’re talking about a deep, precolonial heritage of resistance, skill, and adaptation. We’re talking about a culture that refused to forget how to fight.

Up next, we’ll look at what happens when you mix swords with sermons and sticks with Spanish steel. Spoiler: the Filipinos didn’t stop training. They just got sneakier about it.

06/19/2025
The Sword in the Soul of the Islands: Why Filipino Martial History Matters

When people think about martial arts, they usually imagine kung fu masters leaping off rooftops or UFC fighters trading elbows in a cage. But tucked away in the tropical mess of jungles, islands, and traffic jams we call the Philippines is something just as badass—if not more: Arnis, Eskrima, and Kali.

These aren’t just some old-school ways to swing a stick around. They’re survival systems. They’re family legacies. They’re the “hold my bolo and watch this” moments passed down from generation to generation. More than that, they’re cultural time capsules—full of grit, improvisation, and a deep refusal to stay conquered.

See, looking at Philippine history through the lens of its martial arts isn’t just about techniques or training drills. It’s about how people adapted to hundreds of years of colonizers trying to kill their culture—and still found a way to hit back. Sometimes literally.

When the Spanish said “No weapons allowed,” Filipinos said, “Cool, we’ll just dance with them instead.” When the Americans brought boxing and baseball, the old arts went underground but never disappeared. These arts lived in fiestas, in rituals, in little moments where someone would casually flip a stick around and say, “Yeah, I used to train a bit.”

This series is going to walk through Philippine history with an eye for the fighters—tribal warriors, resistance leaders, backyard masters, and everyone in between. We’ll talk about why people fought, how they fought, and what they passed down. This isn’t just for the historians. This is for anyone who’s ever taken a shot to the knuckles during a sinawali drill and smiled through the pain.

So if you train in Filipino martial arts—or you’re just curious where this whole stick-twirling madness came from—strap in. This is the story of the Philippines, told through its fighters. It’s a little bit blood, a little bit blade, and a whole lot of spirit.

Let’s get started.

06/18/2025