Bad Form, Conor, Bad Form

In the archetypal tale Peter Pan, the villain Captain Hook often chides the eternally pubescent Peter Pan with the admonition: "Bad form, Peter, bad form."

Form is such a fascinating concept and reality. Anything that can be perceived has form. Even ideas in the mind have some kind of subtle form, albeit nebulous and often less discernible than a wooden table in the living room.

In the realm of martial arts, form is of paramount importance. How a fighter moves their body can mean the difference between an unscathed victory or a punishing loss. Through quickness and deception, a fighter molds his/her form into a weapon able to penetrate defenses and disarm an opponent. It is a vicious dance of versatility and fierceness.

Recently I went to a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu class, and I had a blast. My limited training in judo from high school days started to kick back in, and I was enjoying the camaraderie among fellow students.

I've been following UFC the past few years, and last Saturday I watched UFC 223, which was headlined by Khabib Nurmagomedov and Al Iaquinta. But the notorious Conor McGregor nearly stole the show with his antics preceding the fight, when he attacked a bus full of fighters and injured two of them with a projectile he launched into a glass window. McGregor's motive was one of retaliation against Nurmagomedov, who had taunted one of McGregor's teammates, Artem Lobov. But Nurmagomedov emerged untouched from the scuffle, and all that McGregor and his Irish gang managed to accomplish was wreaking some collateral damage that not only injured two fighters, but removed their chance to fight in the event.

Of course, McGregor has been lambasted by MMA professionals and the media for crossing a whole new line of unregulated violence, and he is facing felony charges in New York, so his future stardom hangs in the balance.

I hope The Notorious is able to bounce back into a more respectable and honorable form—one in which his showmanship does not violate the boundaries set by the professionalism of the sport.

One thing I've learned about my mistakes is that they create new opportunities to learn and grow. The question I ask myself is: Can I process my guilt and shame and adapt to a higher form?

Yes, I can.

Thank you for reading. Be still, and flow.