The Road He Walked, the Path I’m Still Finding

Not long ago, I was on a transfer bus in Germany – one of those shuttles that takes you from the plane to the terminal. I was staring out the window, tired but content, when it hit me: This is what Remy used to do. I felt this small, quiet smile creep in. Moments like that pull me right back into memories of my teacher… my friend… the man who became a second father to me.

I think about him constantly. And I often wonder – if Remy were still with us today, how different our conversations would be. How much deeper. How much more I would understand now.

Since his passing, I’ve stepped into a version of the life he led: leading a global community of Modern Arnis practitioners, teaching in 28 states and 18 countries with more still ahead. I run a full-time Modern Arnis school, so when I’m not on the road, I’m on the mat. The workload is intense – similar to his, but also very different. And sometimes I catch myself asking, How on earth did he manage all of this?

Because here’s the truth: I have technology. Smartphones, tablets, laptops, endless apps that organize my world. Online calendars. Digital backups. Email. And at the end of a long trip, I come home to the same bed. Remy didn’t have that. He lived on the road – truly lived on it – teaching 30 weekends a year, often running two seminars each weekend, plus all the training camps on top of that. He was constantly on the move, from one city to another, carrying the art with him everywhere he went.

When I talk to the newer generations, they sometimes struggle to understand why things unfolded the way they did back then. But they don’t realize that Remy passed away in 2001. His last attempt to teach a seminar was at a camp in Germany in October of 2000. Back then, everything – and I mean everything—was done on paper.

The internet was just starting to catch on. Maybe a third of households even had a computer. There were no smartphones. No YouTube, Facebook, TikTok, Instagram. No apps. No digital backups. No instant communication.

Meanwhile today, I’ve got travel apps that make my life easy. If something goes wrong, someone emails me the fix. If I need a boarding pass, I print it in the hotel lobby. Remy didn’t have that luxury.

I remember around 2002, traveling through Germany, Sweden, and Denmark. Someone accidentally locked our plane tickets inside an apartment. When I got to the airport, they had no record of anything. I had to buy brand-new tickets on the spot. Today? I just give my ID and everything appears in their system. It’s a different world.

Because of social media and modern tools, I’ve taught in more countries than he did. Internationally, I’m busier. But domestically? I haven’t met anyone whose schedule matched his. What he did – he did with grit, hustle, and heart, not gadgets.

I don’t pretend to walk in his footsteps. Instead, I follow the trail he left behind and then make my own path forward. But oh, how I wish I could talk to him now. Not just because I miss him – though I do – but because I understand so much more today. About Filipino culture. About the hardships of constant travel. About the depth of the art he carried and protected.

Our conversations would be richer, fuller. I’d have better questions. I’d understand his answers.

He equipped me well. My success in Modern Arnis is largely because he did his job – and did it extraordinarily well. He taught me. He guided me. He showed me what leadership looks like. Despite the language and cultural barriers, despite the differences in our worlds, I feel closer to him with each passing year.

Not comparing myself to him as a martial artist, but understanding him – the man. The pioneer. The builder of this phenomenal art that changed my life from the moment I walked into the Filipino Karate Academy and saw his poster on the wall.

That moment set my life on a course I could never have predicted.

Thank you for letting me share these reflections about my teacher, my friend, and my father in the arts –
the late Grandmaster Remy Amador Presas.

Respectfully yours,
Datu Tim Hartman
Modern Arnis’ Tribal Chief

#modernarnis #martialarts #selfdefense

The Truth About Rank in Modern Arnis

People love to ask, “Who are the highest-ranked black belts in Modern Arnis today?”
On the surface, it sounds like a simple question. But the truth?
Most people aren’t prepared for it.

When Professor Remy A. Presas passed away, he took with him the only legitimate authority to promote anyone further in Modern Arnis. He was the founder, the source, the standard. His authority didn’t get transferred, inherited, or absorbed.

It ended — full stop.

Years ago, I had a conversation with Rene Tongson that confirmed exactly what I already knew. He said,
“Tim, the only person who could promote in Modern Arnis was Remy. After he passed, all we can do now are recognitions.”

And that’s the distinction most people conveniently ignore.
A promotion carries the authority of the founder.
A recognition carries the opinion of peers.
They are not equal — not even close.

Grandmaster Ernesto Presas made that crystal clear as well. After years of training with him, he promoted me to Grandmaster — in Kombatan, his art. Not his brother’s. He told me directly:
“Tim, I cannot promote you in my brother’s art. Only in mine.”

That’s integrity. That’s boundaries.
And that’s exactly what’s missing from many of today’s rank discussions.

Because let’s address the elephant in the room:
When Professor was alive, rank meant something.
To earn a Modern Arnis black belt, you got it from his hands.
Not from a committee.
Not from a council.
Not from a popularity vote.

Today, a lot of promotions happen — but far too many mean absolutely nothing.
Some groups have turned advancement into a you-promote-me-and-I’ll-promote-you arrangement. It’s an echo chamber of titles built on convenience, not contribution.

Let’s be real:
When people promote each other just to climb the ladder, the ladder isn’t worth climbing.
Rank earned that way has the shelf life of a cardboard sword.

If your rank comes from effort, sacrifice, teaching, and building the art — that has value.
If it comes from group politics, handshakes, or “I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine” — it’s just embroidery on a belt.

Here’s what actually matters:
What have you done? What are you doing? Who are you raising to the next level?

For context: I was one of Professor Presas’ highest-ranked black belts, outranking roughly 99% of his students except for a few quiet promotions in the Philippines. But that’s not what defines my legacy — and it shouldn’t define anyone’s.

This past May, during my birthday camp, I saw something that did define it. Not the celebration. Not the attendance. Not the milestone.

But this:
Four generations of black belts in my lineage on the floor, training side by side.

That is something a certificate can’t manufacture.
That is something politics can’t create.
That is something no self-appointed council can grant.

That is legacy.
That is the real measure of rank.
That is longevity in action.

Because titles fade. Paper fades. Belts fade.
What remains is the community you build, the students you train, and the generations you inspire to continue the work.

The best way to honor Professor Presas isn’t by chasing higher stripes.
It’s by doing the work he modeled:
Teach. Build. Share. Spread the art.
And prepare the next generation to surpass you.

That’s the kind of rank that actually matters — the kind that will outlive all of us.

Respectfully,
Datu Tim Hartman
Modern Arnis’ Tribal Chief

#modernarnis #filipinomartialarts

RIP GM Roberto Presas

I’m writing this from Manila, Philippines, where I’m attending Bobby Taboada’s World Camp. Yesterday, I found myself reflecting – it’s been exactly 15 years since we lost Ernesto Presas. And now, just one day later, his younger brother Roberto has passed away.

Roberto was the last of the three kings of the Presas family of Arnis. If you’ve never heard much about him, it’s not because he lacked skill or significance. Quite the opposite – he chose a path of quiet strength and support. He stood behind his two older brothers, Remy and Ernesto, helping them build their legacy while dedicating himself to teaching at home in the Philippines.

I first met him in 2007, on my very first trip here. He personally took me to visit Remy Presas’s grave – making sure no one else was around – so I could have a private moment to say goodbye to my teacher. That simple act meant the world to me. From that trip forward, every time I traveled to Negros, I made a point to visit Roberto at his home. We shared many great conversations and memories.

One story that still makes me smile: his wife once told me she thought Arnis had “taken away” his two brothers, and that she gave him an ultimatum – stay home, or continue training and traveling alone. I laughed and said, “Well, clearly he made the right choice!” But funny enough, whenever I visited and she wasn’t home, Roberto always seemed to be waiting near the front door – with a stick in hand. And somehow, every visit turned into me buying a few sticks for my students! I think it’s safe to say that his love for the art never left him – he just trained when no one was watching.

We all know Remy was the founder of Modern Arnis. He was ten years older than his brothers, but when they came of age, Ernesto and Roberto were right there with him, helping shape what became one of the most influential Filipino martial arts in the world. Each brother had his own style, his own expression of the art. Roberto went on to found Hinigaran Arnis de Mano, a system closely related to Modern Arnis but with its own unique flavor – particularly in stick and dagger work.

Whenever his older brothers spoke about him, it was always with warmth and pride. Now, with Roberto’s passing, we’ve lost the last of the Presas brothers – the final direct link to the roots of the family art.

All we can do now is honor them by carrying the art forward – evolving, yet staying true to the heart of what they created: Modern Arnis, Kombatan, and Arnis de Mano.

People often say their loved ones are in a better place when they pass, and while I understand that sentiment, I’ve always felt the best place is still here with us. Still, I can’t help but smile at the thought of the reunion happening now in heaven – three brothers together again.

Tito Berto, you will be deeply missed. Please say hello to your brothers for me. And while I’m not in any rush to join you, I do look forward to the day we’re all reunited again – training, laughing, and sharing stories once more.

Respectfully,
Tim Hartman
World Modern Arnis

#modernarnis #martialarts #selfdefense #filipinomartialarts

Fifteen Years Later: Remembering Great Grandmaster Ernesto A. Presas

Fifteen years ago today, Great Grandmaster Ernesto A. Presas passed away. I didn’t spend as much time with him as I did with his older brother, Remy, but the moments I did have with Ernesto are ones I’ll always treasure.

Every person who enters your life brings something unique – lessons, insights, and perspectives that shape the way you think and grow. Martial arts are much the same. It’s not just about the physical techniques, but the people and philosophies behind them that change how you see the art — and yourself.

Ernesto helped me elevate my double stick training to a higher level of understanding and precision. But even more than that, he gave me something deeper: a genuine connection to the Philippines.

I was supposed to join Remy on his final trip at the end of 1999, but the timing didn’t work out. Seven years later, Ernesto invited me to his world camp – and that trip changed everything. I met so many of his students from around the world, but what meant the most was walking the same beaches where the Presas family grew up. I even had the chance to visit Remy’s grave – alone, in a quiet, private moment that Ernesto made sure I could have. That act of kindness meant the world to me.

Ernesto treated me like family. Part of that, I think, was because I helped bring the brothers back together before Remy passed. But he also opened doors for me – introducing me to people across the Philippines, helping me find my own path and connections there.

So, on this 15th anniversary of his passing, I find it fitting that I’m here – in the Philippines – staying at the same hotel where I stayed on my very first visit. This is my eleventh trip to these islands, with more still to come. Each time, I deepen my understanding of the people, the culture, and the roots from which our art was born.

Thank you, Ernesto, for everything you did for me – for welcoming me into your martial family and for guiding me toward my own place in the Presas legacy. I continue to share your stories and lessons with my students, keeping your spirit alive in every class, every conversation, and every swing of the stick.

Salamat po, Great Grandmaster Ernesto A. Presas.
Yours,
Datu Tim Hartman
Presas Family Arnis

The Selfie vs. The Big Picture

You know how it goes: you’re scrolling through your feed, and it’s like a parade of “look at me” moments. We’ve all done it—turned life into a selfie session. And hey, that’s normal. But it’s not where we want to stay forever, right?

Take something personal from my own life: when Professor Presas passed away, I initially thought about my own loss. I was there when he was diagnosed, so it hit me on a personal level. But after a while, I realized this wasn’t just about me. It was a loss we all felt. That’s the difference between living in a “selfie” mindset and seeing the big picture.

Now, let me get a little personal on the social media front. Some of my own folks have wondered why my online presence looks the way it does. Since April 1st, 2024, I’ve put out a whopping 562 videos. Yep, that’s a lot! Some are just for laughs, some are responses to trolls, and most are all about sharing solid Filipino Martial Arts.

Not everyone sees the same side of that. Some folks only see the FMA content. Others see me having a bit of fun at the expense of, say, the BJJ community (and yes, I’m working on my purple belt in BJJ, so no hard feelings!).

But here’s the kicker: before I started this approach, an article I wrote might have only gotten a couple hundred views. Now? We’re talking 10,000 to 20,000 views easy. That’s what playing 3D chess looks like. I’m not just thinking about one move—I’m thinking about how each move affects the bigger picture: the seminars, the camps, the overall visibility of the World Modern Arnis Alliance.

And guess what? It’s working. I’ve been going to the Philippines since 2007, but on my last couple of visits, something wild happened: people recognized me. I’m talking about random folks in malls, 7-Elevens, Dairy Queens, the airport, even just out on the street. And of course, the recognition at martial arts events has jumped up too. That’s the power of zooming out and thinking beyond the selfie.

At the end of the day, this is a customer service gig. People come to me for value, not just for the “Tim Hartman experience.” And if I don’t deliver, they’ll go somewhere else. So I’ve got to keep my eyes on that big picture, not just the selfie view.

So next time you catch yourself focusing on just your own frame, zoom out a bit. There’s a whole chessboard out there. Thanks for reading!

Respectfully,
Tim Hartman
World Modern Arnis

#modernarnis #martialarts #filipinomartialarts #selfdefense