THANKS SO MUCH FOR reading Empty Hand Revolution. I hope I’ve successfully conveyed some fraction of the awe I felt while getting to know Cosmo Zimik and writing his story. He simply isn’t the kind of guy you stumble across every day.
Within these pages, I have unapologetically recorded Cosmo’s journey in a holistic manner, including his spirituality. Forward and back, up and down, Cosmo’s life experiences have taught him to believe in a personal, creator God—one who has endeavored to teach Cosmo the lesson of the empty-handed revolution.
For those of you readers who adhere to a secular worldview (or a spiritual one other than Christianity), it is likely you’ve known “believers” who’ve remained equally as selfish and jerk-like after their conversion experience as before.
It’s true, the journey or process of following Jesus the Christ often comes in fits and starts. For some followers, progress comes more slowly than others.
For Cosmo, the lesson of the empty hand revolution finally hit home in 2010 when he opened a dojo under the name Empty Hand Combat in downtown Nampa, Idaho. There, discarded and victimized children began to teach Cosmo as he labored to teach them.
From the jungles of northeast India to the bungalows of Nampa, Cosmo bore the negative effects of oppression and poverty. As a child, he vowed to take and protect what was his—for both himself and his people. Personal vows of such a nature are binding and difficult to overcome. In maintaining those vows, Cosmo performed both terrible and wonderful deeds.
In the broader culture, taking and being taken from are common ways of life for most of us on planet earth, secular and spiritual alike. Very few humans have the guts to disengage from this common practice, even after transitioning from takees to takers. Well known across the globe, and recorded in the annals of history, Mahatma Gandhi was one such courageous individual. He inspired much good during the formative years of India’s republic.
Jesus was another odd individual who taught unlikely things such as “turning the other cheek” and “going the extra mile.” He dared instruct an oppressed people group with outrageous concepts like “the meek shall inherit the earth” and “pray for those who persecute you.”
The man was and is (for those who believe he still lives) offensive and unsettling to say the least. And yet, his teaching stands, despite its 2000 year-old status, naked and tempting for those few who find themselves inexplicably drawn to it like bugs to a zapper.
And what does that teaching say? For Cosmo Zimik it insisted he let go and stop grasping. In a world drunk on power that knows only violence, true greatness requires humility. Courage requires surrender. Developing into a warrior on such terms has been Cosmo’s life quest—from Manipur to Delhi to Idaho.
But each individual must fight his or her own empty hand revolution—the inevitable personal war against whatever vows he or she may have made previously. The empty hand revolution is a war to let go of the things we can’t do without, or so the script goes. Each of us has an impossible lesson to teach the world. In most cases, these are false lessons the world taught us.
Cosmo had convinced himself he needed to teach Delhi a lesson. He needed to teach Indians a lesson about the value and nobility of the Naga. In reality, he needed to let go of the false lesson soldiers had taught him at the age of four—that poor, tribal people are less than human.
Nine times out of ten, our grasping and fighting isn’t teaching anyone anything, except to reinforce the lie. The empty hand revolution is an invitation to flip the script. Stop fighting for the lie. Empty your hands so you can receive the truth.
What that looks like is for each of us to discover. Perhaps it looks like cooking meals or picking up trash, teaching kids or providing a listening ear. Perhaps your truth revolves around self-image or social justice. Whatever it is, you won’t find it all at once. Not even the best of us do.
As for me, my life certainly hasn’t been as dramatic as Cosmo’s. But I’ll spend a page introducing myself nonetheless. After a classic eighties’ childhood as a rancher’s son in Texas, I attended University of Montana, then spent thirteen years as a campus pastor with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship at Boise State University and the University of Utah.
In 2009, my wife and I made the decision to jettison our lucrative day jobs, move, and raise a family while I pursued full time work as a novelist and writer. During the four-plus years since, we’ve been thrust into an empty hand revolution of our own. (It turns out writers don’t make much money. Who knew?)
Two sons and eight books later, I found myself living in Nampa, Idaho and taking my eldest boy to kung fu classes at Empty Hand Combat. As I pieced together the events of Cosmo’s life through impromptu stories he shared with his students, it struck me there was a book waiting to be written.
I offered my services. Why not, I thought. I’ve jumped off a series of cliffs already. What’s one more?
A handful of months later, I’m still dangling in midair, unsure of what awaits below. Perhaps a move to Asia. Perhaps an unforeseen future as a social justice advocate through the written word. Perhaps a boost in my efforts to write exciting and challenging adventure stories for young and old alike. Or maybe a future as a ghost chili farmer.
Thus goes the empty hand revolution and the life of its revolutionaries. Never dull, never certain beyond what is certain.