I used to visit the Central Juvenile Hall in downtown Los Angeles, and the Sports Probation Camp in the Malibu Hills. Central Juvenile Hall is the largest holding tank for kids "at-risk" in the country. I was part of the Excel Program that was set up in the correctional facility's school. I taught meditation, nonviolence, anger management, stress reduction, self-hypnosis, just about anything these kids could use to get them through the nightmare.

I was also invited to go into every available building this prison provided to talk to the youth about the principles of nonviolence and to teach meditation. The ages ranged from as young as eight to seventeen.

I came into each situation open, listening; and trusting my vulnerability to inform me what to do. This become my greatest strength.

The teachers or guards usually introduced me as a high-ranking woman martial artist. The kids then made the usual sounds and ‘Kung Fu' movements and asked questions such as, “Can you do flips? Back hand springs?” and “Can you show us some moves?” My first response was usually, “I am not a circus act,” or “Am I here for your entertainment?”

I understood that their questions came from their boredom and restlessness; also from all the stereotypes that portray the martial arts as acrobatic and violent. For many young people who have not been exposed to the them, the martial arts have come to mean competition and fighting.

Then I would say, “The martial arts are the study of love—for oneself as well as for others.”

My statement seemed to be something they instinctively understood. I now had their attention. If there was someone who did not know what I meant I would suggest, “If you can't feel any compassion for your attacker, then maybe you can feel enough for yourself to make sure you don't wind up in court facing a conviction for assault or manslaughter.”

To live in these times takes great strength. There are many challenges for young people, and they are given an ever smaller margin of error. If they happen to be classified as "high-risk" that margin of error becomes nonexistent.

My parents taught me to be a warrior so that I could face the challenges in my environment as I was growing up. This eventually led me to the martial arts. The martial arts can teach us that we are strong and powerful, as well as fragile and vulnerable. The martial arts teach us how to heal wounds and find lasting freedom from habitual patterns that cause suffering. I became involved in the martial arts because I wanted to learn how to live with myself, and how to accept all of myself—my greatest potentials, as well as those parts that were most wounded and out of control.

Self-defense was something my father taught me long before my martial arts training, so that I would be safe walking to elementary school. It often came in useful. When I was embroiled in a scrap in the streets on the way home from school, I would remember his words—"don't hate them because they're attacking you, they're not in their right mind."

I learned to fight just hard enough to discourage my attackers, and I learned not to take their actions personally. I truly felt that they were not in their right mind.

There is so much fear in our society that people often come to the martial arts to learn self-defense. Their motive is pure—to protect themselves as well as others. And it is certainly possible to learn those necessary skills.

For me, however, the martial arts are about understanding the spirit of Budo , and discovering and honoring all the parts of myself, what I celebrate, and what brings shame.

Approached with the spirit of Budo , the martial arts become not only the cultivation of a skill, but a path of inner refinement of character, heart and spirit, that can liberate us from fear. It leads us to wholeness, no matter what the circumstances or conditions of our environment might be.

To be open and trust in one's vulnerability one has to be clear about one's boundaries and intentions. My own intention is to live with the love that always keeps me open to others. I also have confidence that my martial arts ability will keep me safe from harm, and that allows me to trust my vulnerability. This is the spirit of Budo . This allows me to feel comfortable when I am in a room of 50 young men in a Sports Probation Camp with no guards and only a button to push as my safety valve.

It's not that fear no longer exists for me, but that it no longer holds me hostage. In situations when fear was present I would just talk about it openly to my audience and it would help me to put it in perspective and the fear would go, or transform into something more creative. Love is my motivation and it gives me the strength to transform my fear.

I have trained in Aikido for may years. Before I studied Aikido I trained in Karate. My Karate teacher was wonderful and inspiring. Then one day he told us, “If someone is attacking you make sure that when you put him down he never gets back up. And if you wind up in court, I will say I never told you this.” At that moment I lost all the trust I ever had for him.

When I began the practice of Aikido I learned that there are martial arts that are compassionate and benevolent, with principles of peacemaking and nonviolence.

When I talk to those incarcerated I say, “I have many tools but no answers. I can help you learn to use the tools. Perhaps we can arrive at some answers together."

Allowing yourself to be vulnerable allows others to be vulnerable around you. This is a good place to start, with defenses down.

Here is one tool for developing compassion: it is about listening and speaking, and can be done in a group of any size, two people are enough. It is called Council. It is a way to create a space for trust and openness. Council, or talking circles, have been a way of speaking out and speaking truth that has been practiced in many cultures from the earliest times.

A talking object such as a stone is passed around the circle. The guidelines are given, "You speak only when you have the stone in your hand. Everyone else in the circle remains silent and listens. Speak freely, but without judgment or negative comment on what was said before.

Everyone listens without judging, or taking the words personally. What is said in the council is not to be repeated outside."

In Council we speak the truth, and we hear the truth, on its own terms. Such a simple process allowed everyone in the circle to be heard, listened to, and believed.

I used the Council only when I had a group that I met with regularly, like the boys in the high-risk units or the girls in girls units at Central Juvenile Hall. It takes time to develop trust to speak and listen with an open heart. If you feel you have even one person who you can do this with it is of great value.

I often think of the Latin proverb “I spoke, and I saved my soul.”

To be able to speak freely can heals us. To listen to someone‘s story without judgment allows the person speaking to heal. To be open to another is to see them, to be open to love. Rigid boundaries shift. Fears dissolve. To be open to love is the greatest healing of all. This is the spirit of Budo.