The Laws of the Ring by Tim Keown, Urijah Faber Read Free Book Online

before school, the more time you’ll have to work on your passion.
    If you don’t plan, you’ll end up in the same position as a fifteen-year-old Urijah Faber. You won’t know where or how to start, and you won’t understand the nuances of the old saying Where there’s a will there’s a way.
    Possessing the will is important, but being smart in your pursuit will allow you to accomplish and achieve more.

The 7th Law of Power
    Push Through Life’s Hiccups (Dealing with Change)
    I want to tell you the story of my brother, Ryan. It’s not an easy story for me to tell. Ryan is two years older than me, and he’s always been my hero. Our relationship was forged through a shared experience: the days and nights with our dad in the motor home, going back and forth between our mom and dad’s places, being each other’s rock during a bad divorce. My days watching in admiration as Ryan played high school football and wrestled. I remember when he started freshman football and I was in sixth grade, I would wake up each morning, fill a jug with ice-cold water, and ride my bike to the summer conditioning practice. I’d show up to watch the end of his practices, just in time to see him finish with the lead group on all the runs. He didn’t have the best physique or style as a freshman in high school, but he was the hardest-working guy out there, and he led by example.
    When I was a freshman in high school, he was a senior and the captain of the football and wrestling teams. He was a peer counselor in athletics. He was on the student council. He took all the available AP and honors courses, was fluent in Spanish after just three years of taking courses, he was off the charts in math. He had to take math classes at the junior college as early as his junior year because they didn’t have a teacher at school who was at his level. Ryan never smoked, never drank, and as the MC brought spirit into all the pep rallies at school. I know there’s no such thing as the perfect kid, but he came as close as humanly possible to fitting the definition.
    He was so good, in fact, that I never wanted to let him know whenever I did anything bad. I wasn’t a bad kid, but you have to understand Ryan. He was wall-to-wall good, and he had very little tolerance for missteps. I drank some in junior high and tried weed as an eighth grader, and I knew if Ryan caught wind of it there would be hell to pay. Besides, I didn’t want to disappoint him.
    Ryan was accepted into Cal Polytechnic in San Luis Obispo after he graduated from high school, but he decided to take the air force ROTC scholarship he was awarded and attend Citrus Community College near Los Angeles. It was all planned out: Ryan would attend Citrus, near my grandparents on my mother’s side, for two years, and then transfer to Azusa Pacific University. After graduation, he would go on to become an air-force pilot.
    Ryan was incredibly organized for a young man, and left nothing to chance. He had a job working in a Nordstrom’s café in Sacramento (he would commute thirty minutes from Lincoln), and before he left for Southern California, he contacted the Nordstrom’s closest to the campus and managed to transfer his job to that store. Then, at eighteen, scholarship and job in tow, Ryan moved to Los Angeles. He rented a room from a family in the area, went to school, and worked.
    During his first year, he would come home for holidays. Though we noticed that he was getting more into our family’s early roots of Christianity, it didn’t set off any alarms in our family; Ryan was eight when we left the Christian commune, so he had a stronger religious education than I did. (I was five.) He got all As and continued to be the responsible, upstanding guy we all knew. But when he came back for the summer after his first year in college, I noticed serious changes. His beliefs were becoming more fanatical. It’s not just