Author: Joelle White

He is a 5th degree black belt.  I am at the time of this writing newly promoted to 6th kyu – five tests down and five more tests to go before I’ll be eligible to test for 1st degree black belt (assuming I’m invited to do so).  He’s studied for decades.  I was a day shy of my 18 month anniversary of training.  We faced each other, bowed (as junior I waited for him to come up first), and at his command we leaped into fighting stance.  We sparred.

Did I go to the hospital barely clinging to life?  Nope.  Did I suffer some permanent injury?  Nope.  Slight injury?  Nope.  In fact, sparring with him was a lot of fun.   Yeah I had to work my butt off, yeah I was tested and pushed hard.  But it was fun.

Wait – wasn’t this dangerous?  It was way less dangerous than getting in to my car and driving home after class.

Control is one of many things that are crucial to good sparring.  In other words, how adept is the person at staying away from off-limit target areas (e.g. eyes, crotch) and can that person lightly tap the opponent in valid target areas while still executing good technique?  I have a bit more control than someone who’s been studying only a couple of weeks.  A fifth degree black belt has way more control than me.  That’s not to say that black belts don’t injure each other or their students accidentally.  It’s just they reduce the odds by exercising control.

Accidents do happen.  In fact, one significant milestone for me was getting accidentally knocked to the mats by, yes, someone who significantly outranked me.  That person wasn’t trying to beat me up and felt awful about the whole thing.  I learned I have what it takes to get up and into fighting stance again, and that was huge for me.  All’s well that ends well, but yes – we do play with fire.

I was actually in more danger from someone brand new to the art.  He is young, tall, and struggles mightily to get his arms and legs to do what they’re supposed to do.  He’s been training for about nine weeks now.  Us colored belts had been warned about newbies in general.  As senior student, this guy was my responsibility.  I didn’t know what to expect the first time I sparred with him.  Within moments, I knew his Sensei wasn’t kidding about the danger.  Fists and feet flailing everywhere, hard blocks…  Ow.  I’m sure given some time and some patient tutoring, he’ll learn how to control the force he generates.

Which man put a bruise or two on me – the fifth degree black belt or the new white belt?  You should know the answer by now.

We’re not street fighting.  If  we really want to whale on something, we get out the big foam shields and the punching bags.  Us karateka might perpetuate the misconception about sparring by joking around about beating each other up or even referring to sparring as “fighting,” or “a fight.”  We need to be sure that new white belts don’t take this too seriously.

A couple of weeks prior to sparring with the fifth degree black belt, I sought out a brand-new white belt who didn’t have a partner.  She was terrified of me.  Seeing this, I simply gave her a moving target and let her figure out her range.  I know how she feels.  I used to be terrified of the upper ranks, especially black belts.  Seven of them have over time knocked that nonsense out of me.  Maybe.  I have a feeling that at some point I’ll be pushed hard again and I’ll have to overcome fear and find the fun again.

Finding the fun in sparring hasn’t been an easy journey for me, and I’ve written about it loads of times.  I still have to remind myself sometimes to find what I call, “The Fierce Joy.”  And again, I’m thinking at some point in the future I’ll be pushed so hard that I’ll revert right back to where I was.   Maybe I’ll even want to quit.  But I won’t because, after all, we’re not trying to kill each other.

And let me tell you, playing with someone who is really, really, really skilled is flippin’ awesome.

One of the Senseis who works with me on a regular basis has told me he would like to see me be more patient when sparring.  I need to either create or wait for opportunities.  Another Sensei put it this way – I’m often so intent on nailing my opponent that I miss the big picture.  I’ve improved some, but there’s still room for more growth.

 

One day, the first Sensei I mentioned called me up to the front of a class to help him illustrate his points about sparring.  I listened to and watched him for cues on what to do.  This is well within my comfort zone and I love helping this way.  It’s a challenge to keep up with the expectations on the fly, and sometimes – surprise!  I end up on the mats twisted up in a pretzel.  All in good fun and for the benefit of us students.  I get to experience the techniques firsthand, which is a good lesson for me in trust, in the importance of control, and in what these movements are supposed to do.

At one point Sensei backed off a bit and I paused in response, but I maintained my fighting stance.  Sensei finished his point and then said, “Now, in the old, old days – sparring was this,” and he suddenly “froze” in fighting stance, guard up.  Not really frozen as in stiff – more like a coiled spring.  I copied him.  I had no clue what to do next, but during a demonstration, one cues off of Sensei.  After an uncomfortable few seconds of us staring at each other, watching each other for signs of attack, I raised a questioning eyebrow.

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BAM!  Next thing I knew, Sensei had covered the distance between us, coming at me like a spring-loaded freight train.

Sensei explained to all of us that in that style of fighting, one waits for a flinch, a submissive lowering of the eyes, a shifting of the gaze in response to a sound in the room, or whatever other cue that shows one’s opponent is vulnerable and/or distracted.  In my case, it was that raised eyebrow.  Yep, I was too busy communicating and wasn’t spending any brain power observing.

About a month later, this Sensei faced off with another black belt for sparring.  Both men went into fighting stance…  And they just waited.  I grinned, recognizing what they were up to.  I don’t know who broke first, but they both exploded at almost the same time.  A heartbeat later the corner judges’ flags went up, so obviously one was faster.

Patience works.  Impatience and haste doesn’t.  I think that’s one of the things I was supposed to learn, and I’m glad I had this firsthand experience with an “old school” method of fighting.

What do soy sauce, my new job, and my Karate have in common?

My new job is at the community college.  I work in the building next door to where the college Karate class meets.  My hours are flexed so I can work out with that class.   It’s pretty exciting to have something to look forward to when I go to work on Monday mornings.  Don’t get me wrong, I like my new job, but you know – Monday mornings are still Monday mornings.   Monday mornings are a lot more exciting now that the first thing I do when I arrive on campus is stash my gi in a locker.

The man who founded the college’s Karate program came from Japan with the clothes on his back and a little bit of cash.  At one point he lived in his car and did yard work for people.  He came to the community college and in exchange for English lessons, he taught Karate.   He started making soy sauce to give away as gifts, and with the encouragement and help of his Karate students, eventually went commercial.  He’s now quite wealthy and a great philanthropist.  You might know him as Mr.  Yoshida.  I know him as Yoshida Sensei.  Read the full story about Yoshida Sensei here if you’d like to.

Yoshida Sensei kept working on his Karate.  Nowadays he is the head of the organization of dojos I belong to.   This organization includes my “home” dojo, the “college dojo,” and other local dojos I’ve written about before.  So there’s the connection between soy sauce and my karate.  But what about my new job?  How’s that connected to soy sauce and Karate?

I work in the International Student Programs office.  We help with just about every aspect of a foreign student’s life.  If we can’t help directly we point the students to the right people.  This office didn’t exist until maybe 8-10 years ago, so obviously the college has taken huge strides since Yoshida Sensei got his start.

So…  What about the title of this blog post?  “Full Circle,” what’s up with that?

My job enables me to pay all my Karate expenses.   Tournament entry fees, belt test fees, Gasshuku, motel room for after Godo Renshu, and contact lenses.  Plus whatever else might come up (hopefully never a hospital bill).  Once I reach 3rd kyu in 6-7 years I’ll have to drive three hours on a monthly basis for training at the hombu dojo, so I’m saving up for food and fuel.  I’m also saving up for my Shodan test.  The college dojo will gain another Sensei.

Full circle.

You bet I have incentive to learn how to do my job and to do it well.   It’s a busy office, there’s a lot to learn, and the work is never ever done.  My job at the front desk can get insanely busy around the start of each new quarter, but I’m a mother so I know how to roll with the times when I barely get a couple of minutes to use the restroom.  Karate has given me what it takes to listen to feedback, learn from mistakes, and grow especially when growing is hard to do.  This is easily the most challenging office I’ve ever worked in.  I’m up for the challenges thanks to my Karate.   I’m helping students who, like Yoshida Sensei, are coming to America to learn and grow, maybe even establish new lives here.

Full circle again.