Author: Joelle White

Tense shoulders have been plaguing me all throughout my training.  Earlier this month my Sensei said that just like riding a bike, one day I’ll “get it” and I’ll be moving better.

I got a big hint on Jesse Enkamp’s blog.  He suggests that if stiffening up is a problem, stop trying to be loose.  I’m sure it’s great advice but I haven’t quite got the hang of it yet.  I’ll just have to be patient and remind myself to quit worrying.  I’m sure everyone progresses at their own rate, and I’m just going to have to trust the fact that the more I train, the better I will get at this art.  I just need to have faith that this breakthrough will come.

I was given a tiny bit of insight a week ago.  We were working on, well, I don’t know what to call it it was like “pushing hands” or sensitivity drills, except no structure – just free play at close range with the objective of trapping.  We started off with just arms and hands.  At one point, my partner pointed out, “If you stiffen up, that just makes it easier for me to trap you.”  Light bulb!  I started becoming aware of tension and releasing it.  We moved on to using the entire body at close range.  It was a flowing game of evasion, deception, luring, and trapping.  Every time I stiffened and tried to defend with stiffness or power into offense with muscle, I lost opportunities and/or advantages.

On the surface, these were exercises in strategy, anticipation, intuition, and working at close range.  But I think the Sensei who was teaching us also wanted me to learn loose, fluid movement in a context that would give me instant feedback.  I know if I can remember what that felt like, it’ll help my kumite.

I have to admit there are still a bunch of stupid anxieties and worries on my emotional level when I’m in the ring doing kumite.  I’ve been a little lax about finding ways of being aware of and letting them go.  On the other hand, it’s been quite some time since I last barfed on anyone, so I guess I’ve improved some.  That said, performance anxiety, overthinking things (the centipede’s dilemma), and fear of injury are still lurking around.  It’s good to know that as of last week’s lesson, I have a positive experience to recall.  I’ll try to remember what it felt like to move gracefully, to have those flashes of insight into what my partner was up to, and to execute a strategy successfully.

At one point I asked my partner, “How am I even doing this?  It’s my first time doing anything remotely resembling this, and I don’t understand why I’m not floundering.”  My partner said I was using my intuition.  Light bulb!  I need to trust myself.  The human brain has incredible capacities – I need to tap into all those wonderful attributes that enabled my ancestors to survive a lot of really tough things like being chased by sabre-toothed tigers.

Now let’s see if I can apply these lessons next time I’m in kumite.  I’m hoping this’ll be a “magic bullet” that will fix my problems.  Yes, I’m an optimist.  But I’m also a realist – I’m human.  Maybe I’ll “get it,” maybe I won’t.  But I sure as heck won’t undermine myself by groaning in despair, “It’s too hard!  I’ll never get it!”  That will guarantee failure!

There’s another tournament at the end of this month.  I wonder what will happen?

I’ve put my life in all my senseis’ hands so many times there’s no point in even entertaining the notion of counting.  I always enjoy being uke for a demonstration.  I get to see the movements close up and experience a very mild version of the end results firsthand.  Not only that, I rather enjoy the challenge of listening to and watching the sensei for cues on what I should do.  I also am a little bit proud of my ability to know when to yield and how to fall safely.  I know that it’s unlikely I’ll come to harm.  I’ve only had to tap out once, and I’m thinking that was due to the tendon in question just deciding it was going to be cranky, not any error on Sensei’s part.  He was demonstrating something that would’ve destroyed other parts of me!

But how many times have the black belts put their lives in my hands?  Up until now, very seldom indeed.  First off, I’m only a brand-new 5th kyu, so I’m not exactly a killing machine.  Yeah, accidents happen and there are a few things I could do to harm, even kill someone.  But given my lack of learning, I’m not much of a threat to any given black belt.  Still, working with me is risky because I’m still developing control, particularly with dangerous movements that are new to me.

Given all that, in the short time I’ve been 5th kyu there’s been an uptick in what I’m allowed, even encouraged to do when I’m working with a black belt.  In fact at one point just this past week a Sensei allowed me to work him into into an incredibly vulnerable position – as in with one strike I could’ve easily killed him.  Of course because I like him as a person and value him as a teacher, I slowly mimed the deadly strike.  Let me say it again – he allowed me to trap him.  I’m sure he has any number of tricks up his gi sleeve to have countered anything I did at any point from start to almost finish.  And I know I was a bit poky getting there.

What it boils down to is trust.  My senseis they trust the hours they’ve put into developing their own skills, they trust how well they’ve trained me, and they trust me as a person.  To be given that trust is precious.  My senseis are risking themselves so that I can learn.

I’m sure that Sensei who allowed me to trap him knew what I was attempting, and I’m positive he allowed me to proceed because he wanted to see if I would reach an effective outcome.  Of course he resisted but only just enough to see if I could reach my eventual goal in spite of light opposition.  To him, me learning something was worth the risk to himself.  What would I have learned if that black belt had shut down my efforts immediately?  Nothing.

Don’t get me wrong, videos can and do serve a useful purpose in martial arts.  But let’s face it, you can’t experience trust on YouTube.  You can’t learn from a computer screen how to trust your instructors and fellow students nor can you receive trust in turn.  These powerful lessons for the heart and spirit require the actual presence of other people.  When you give and receive trust you are building a solid group of people who can learn and grow together.

And that is most precious and powerful indeed.

One of the Affiliate YMCA black belts has a three-car garage she doesn’t use for cars.  It’s a small dojo.  Today (4/10/16) I was invited out for training.

I always love small classes, and I am always thrilled when I’m the lowest ranked in a small class. I always am challenged to keep up and usually learn loads of new things.  Today I finally got to find out firsthand what freestyle “pushing hands” are all about.  I had run across a mention of these exercises somewhere on the Internet, so I researched them but didn’t grasp the concepts at all until today when I actually got to try out this flow-y game of redirection, entrapment, and tagging.  After awhile, Affiliate Y Chief Sensei went several steps further with me – we used our whole selves in a similar flowy-type exercise in order to try and trap the other person.  It was a real mental challenge to evade, lure, deceive, and trap with movements that were both familiar and alien.

Today came with an additional bonus.  A new friend.  This delightful young lady black belt hails from Japan and is studying English at the Kaplan International school just down the hall from where I work.  I wasn’t expecting to meet her until tomorrow – College Sensei had announced last week she’d be joining us at College Dojo.  It was wonderful to meet this young lady in a less formal context and to get to know her (and work with her) over the course of a few hours.  We are both looking forward to seeing each other at College Dojo on Monday.