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Bear with me – I will get to Karate in a few paragraphs…

When I was a kid I thoroughly enjoyed Beverly Cleary’s books. Her characters are fictional, but the neighborhood in which they “lived” is real. I cannot go to the fairy-land of Oz but I can go to Klickitat Street in Portland, Oregon. So I did.

My first stop was Grant Park, a few blocks south of Klickitat Street. In that park are sculptures of two of Cleary’s main characters: Ramona Quimby and Henry Huggins. With a jolt I recognized that my imagined images of the characters did not match the reality of the sculptures. For the first time, I saw the characters through adult eyes.

The sculptor captured these characters perfectly. I was nearly in tears with the beautiful realization that this sculptor knew the subjects quite well. But up until that moment I thought of Ramona Quimby as being the same height as I am, and Henry Huggins as taller because he’s older than Ramona. But I am now taller than Henry Huggins. I no longer see Ramona as an equal and Henry as greater.

I took pictures from Ramona’s perspective and from my own. Ramona from a child’s perspective could be looking up at the sky in a moment of exuberance, not really aware of the presence of another. From adult height, she could be looking me full in the face, hoping that I will echo her happiness and validate her joy.

The sculpture of Henry as seen from Ramona’s perspective almost seems to sigh, “Ramona, what are we going to do with you?” His expression is a mixture of big-brotherly love and half-amused annoyance. Perhaps he looked like that after he pulled Ramona out of the sticky mud. But if I look down on him from my adult height suddenly he’s explaining what happened – “Yes, ma’am, I know I’m late… It was Ramona. Again.”

The statues didn’t change. My perspective and my interpretation changed. When I was a kid, these were children who were my equal and greater. As an adult, I see them in terms of how they might relate to me as a mother or teacher.

OK, nice story, what’s this got to do with my Karate journey?

If you haven’t been reading this blog for very long, you might not know  that I trained in Karate from age 13 to age 16 or almost 17. At age 44 I started again. Yes, my perspective of karate has changed and my interpretation of what’s going on in my internal and external world in connection with karate has changed just as radically as my view of Beverly Cleary’s beloved characters.

I remember the first five minutes of my very first Karate class very distinctly. I knew I was part of something wonderful. Within fifteen minutes I was empowered – I’d learned how to make a fist and punch. I carry that feeling with me whenever I help with new beginners’ first classes. This is a great reaction, but it was all about me.  Now my perspective on this event has shifted from the “then” to the future, from just myself to others.  I want this memory to fuel my words and deeds so that I can help create similar memories for the new students who I am helping.  I’ve shifted my perspective on other long-ago karate experiences too.

The angst that came towards the end of my first Karate career and how my mixed-up interpretations colored my perspective of karate is unpleasant to think about. I can blame some of this angst on undiagnosed IgG subclass 2 deficiency that left me vulnerable to every illness the littlest children brought to the dojo. I can blame some of it on the clinical depression I was hiding. Most elements, though, were my own darn fault. An honest talk with my sensei would have helped me to make the needed changes in training and in attitude. Even without a diagnosis the connection between assistant teaching the little kids’ class and me being almost constantly sick was obvious. The best solution was not to quit karate but to stop teaching four year olds. I feel bad about quitting, and yeah, I’d like to forget everything that was behind my leaving something I once loved. But all that mixed-up teenage “stuff” is part of my journey too.

My perspective on all that teenage drama has changed. For one thing, my life would be different now if I’d stayed with karate then. I would have a different degree from a university closer to home. I might or might not have married – certainly not to my husband of almost 26 years, whom I met in college in another state. Our two daughters would not exist. And maybe, just maybe, by now I would have retired to have children or quit because I was burned out, injured, or whatever. That’s a sobering thought. Even more sobering is that if I could somehow erase all that unpleasantness, doing so could be detrimental to someone else. The memories of that sour teenage perspective sting me, but that pain could someday drive me to help someone else grow past their own angst and burnout.

I won’t spend many words on how I view and interpret Karate now – at least not in this particular blog post. The joys, sorrows, triumphs, and struggles of my present journey are recorded in this blog. I hope that the overall theme of growth pervades each post. Sure my techniques are getting better, yeah I’m earning belts and the occasional tournament medal… But there’s so much more to Karate than what one can see with physical eyes. I didn’t recognize the mental/spiritual side when I was a teenager, but those aspects impacted my life nonetheless. What little training I had then impacted my future life in so many ways. The subsequent life experiences which benefited from those early years in the dojo are now helping me and my dojo. Further growth in the discipline of karate is helping me in my personal and professional lives. What goes around comes around.

 

Like most karateka I have a long-term goal of earning Shodan (first degree black belt). I’d like to earn more degrees after that too. But there’s so much more to Karate than the belts. For quite some time I’ve known what I’d like to possibly be in the future – sensei, referee, coach, bunkai expert… But the main focus of my hopes and dreams is gone.  The good news is that big dream could shift and morph into something else.

For most of the last three years I’ve dreamed of being a junior instructor at two particular dojo. I was very heavily invested in those dojo, but due to circumstances beyond any karateka’s control those dojo don’t exist anymore. From what I know of the history of our organization in this state it’s not unusual for dojo to move or close down and for new ones to open. The shifts so far have been due to changes in the host facilities. There are worse reasons for dojo to shut down and we’ve been very fortunate to have never experienced anything truly dreadful. Still, it’s hard and I do mourn a little when I think about those two dojo.

I admit part of why I dreamed of teaching at those two particular dojo is because I felt the pull of being desperately needed. I had responsibilities beyond the rank I was because there was no one else. Maybe I naturally felt this was my destiny because that’s the way things were when I was a teenager. I trained for three years under the auspices of another organization. When a group left that organization, one of the two dojo sensei went with them. He left a big gap, especially because the dojo sensei was pregnant with her first child and needed the help. She saw potential in me – a scrawny little intermediate-ranked teenage girl. I began teaching “first lesson is free” people, getting new white belts ready to join the main class, and leading the opening ceremony and warm-ups. As an adult re-starting Karate, when I found myself as one of two senior students in one dojo and the senior student in the other it was natural for me to dream along the same path I had been and was going.

Most people would say the dream has died. I don’t think “died” is the right word. Maybe that dream is like a seed – it has the appearance of being dead, but someday I might come back to the spot where I laid it aside and I’ll find something new and beautiful growing there. But for right now I can’t base my dreams on a desperate need because there is no desperate need for me right now.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am very much valued at my new home dojo. I do still contribute significantly to the functioning of my dojo. I very much appreciate having many people who outrank me instead of just one or two. I’m thoroughly enjoying a good balance of giving and receiving. I’m sure I’ll find a new niche I can grow into. It’ll just take time. I still need to develop skills both in old areas and new and it’s nice to have the time and space to grow. I’m sure someday there will be some path that I can claim as my main road – a path that will benefit others as well. It’s just that right now my vision of the future is pretty hazy. And that’s all right for the time being.

One thing I have learned from 47 years of spinning around on this planet is that one has to adapt and change to circumstances. Dreams and visions of the future keep us going but it’s not the end of the world when they have to be changed. Sometimes it’s OK to be in a place where one is looking for a new vision. For now I’ll just keep going for the sake of the love I have for my art and for my fellow karateka. I’m sure the rest will fall into place at the right time. Looking back, I can see that it always has.

*****

What’s really funny about this blog post is I wrote the draft before reading Andrea Harkins’ recent article, “Find Clarity in Your Life” and discovered that what I was writing dovetailed beautifully with what she had to say.  I’ve been reading her blog for three years now so it’s no wonder I ended my article on the same note as hers.  I must say, Andrea is an excellent teacher 🙂

I’ve been keeping a spreadsheet of information about my belt tests. I record when and where I earned rank and who presented me with which new belt. Because one can program spreadsheets to calculate, I have it keeping track of how many days total I’d been training when I earned each belt and how many days elapsed between tests. I decided to make a graph with the total days training on the X axis and the days elapsed between tests on the Y axis. Here’s the result:

When I was done I suddenly remembered Jackie Bradbury’s article, “Martial Arts Growth is Not Linear.” I felt foolish for trying to capture my progress in a line graph.  I thought wryly that at least I had learned a great deal about how to efficiently draw a line graph in GIMP (an image editing program).  I was about to give up writing a blog based on this graph.  Then I looked at the shape of the line.  It looked familiar.  I had something to write about after all.

 

This is Mt. Rainier, a 14,411 foot (4,393 meter) tall dormant volcano. Whenever the weather is clear I see it from my living room window. I had to laugh when I observed that my line looks a bit like Little Tahoma, a “bump” on the side of the mountain.

I haven’t “climbed” much of the “mountain” at all. I have a long steep way to go – and in fact, I will never reach the “summit.” Actually, in martial arts, there is no “summit” – there is only learning until you die or quit. Any analogy breaks down somewhere.

I “stood” on the top of “Little Tahoma” between 8th and 7th kyu. It looks like I coasted along until 5th kyu. Then I hit a challenging slope. The graph ends with my test for 3rd kyu. With tests coming far less frequently in my future, the slope of the line might not continue to mimic Mt. Rainier.

But let’s run with this analogy for awhile.

If you look to the left of the box in the picture of Mt. Rainier, you’ll see I had to climb a bit even before I reached the point that represents the start of my Karate journey. I had to wait for better financial footing before I could join my daughter.  That was my best excuse for quite some time. I thought of myself as too old, too fat, too out of shape. I thought I had to be as young and athletic as I was years ago when I trained, and I knew I was a long way from what I once had been. Once the financial issues were gone, I decided to get back on the mats. I had to overcome a lot to even put on a gi and bow into the dojo for the first time in 27 years. I was intimidated by how much work I had to do to even catch up to where I once was. It turned out I handled it and I am now much further up the “mountain” than I used to be all those years ago.

Tracing the journey on the graph is interesting. It turned out that prior experience helped me rocket through the no-rank white-belt days and the first two kyu ranks. The length of time I spent as 8th kyu was about right for that rank, but I distinctly remember something holding me back. I was intimidated by the upcoming test for 7th kyu. At 7th kyu we tie on a purple belt. That was the color of belt I’d last worn as a teenager. For some reason I thought I did not compare favorably to my younger self, thus I might have consequently hindered my progress. No matter. I sailed right through 7th and 6th kyu.

The line tracing my “mountain” dips down through the purple-belt period, meaning I was taking less and less time between tests. I decided to look back at how I trained during that period. Just from scanning blog posts alone, I see that I did quite a lot outside my “home” dojo. Any one of those activities would give anyone of any rank a boost, but the timing was fortuitous for me. I had just enough understanding of the art to incorporate what I learned. Therefore I was very well prepared for those particular tests.

Some of the opportunities I took advantage from 7th to 5th kyu are closed to me now  but most of them aren’t. I will still benefit from wonderful “extras” like seminars, tournaments, and training alongside those competing at USA Karate Nationals. Sure some doors have closed but one new, very significant door has opened. I will, as often as possible, be attending bi-monthly brown belt training at our organization’s Hombu dojo (about 3 hours drive). My first is in December.

I’m very likely to see the line of the graph climb higher because the tests will be progressively harder and I will, as most karateka, take longer and longer periods of time to prepare for those tests. I already see this in the length of time I spent as 4th kyu.  The chart in the future won’t look exactly like Mt. Rainier, but I find it interesting that thus far there’s a resemblance. I’ve climbed “Little Tahoma,” and enjoyed the little downhill slope. Mind you, I’m not complaining about the climb I’ve started now. Yes, it’s hard work, but the view of where I’ve been is spectacular and I can see some interesting things on the slopes above.

I hear you saying, “What, me sign up for martial arts lessons? No way!” I see your never-ending “to do” list and your full calendar. Hey, I know how rough it is to have at least two kids in diapers – been there, done that, got the T-shirt with the spit-up and who-knows-what-else stains. Here’s the thing – you don’t have to be a national champion and you don’t have to burn through all the ranks in one year or even three. That can wait until your kids are older. Your body and your mind can’t wait. They need activity so go ahead and leave the laundry and the running noses. All that will still be there when you get back from class. Just be sure to give Dad his getaway time too. Believe me, your children would rather have you sane than irritable and snappish. And yes, I do know what it’s like to start a martial art as a slightly lumpy, middle aged, and out of shape mother of teenagers. And if your kids are in martial arts class, why not join them instead of sitting there playing with your phone waiting for them to finish?

Here’s 8 reasons why Mom should practice martial arts…

8) Adult students are rare and usually a very welcome addition to the class.  Don’t get me wrong, teaching kids is rewarding.  But speaking as someone who helps out with newbies and lower-ranked students, I enjoy helping a variety of ages.  And it’s kinda hard for an instructor to get experience teaching a variety of ages if all the students are children.  Kids benefit a lot from training alongside adults.  For the most part adults model appropriate behavior and that helps an instructor no end.  Kids who are more senior in rank get a kick out of helping and working with adults.  I had the pleasure of teaching new adult students when I was a teenager and now I treasure the youngsters who outrank me!  An adult who treats a child with respect is a blessing if that child doesn’t fit in well with his or her peer group at school.  You are needed.

7) With a huge variety to choose from, more likely than not there’s a martial art out there that will fit you. It’s not my place to say what the best martial art for you is. Do some research, try a few free lessons. If you find an art and a school that clicks with you, you will learn your lessons better and you’ll be more likely to stick with it. You need to look forward to your lessons. If the classes are a drag try a different school or art.  You should be having fun, and yes, you should feel like whatever martial art you choose is the best in the world 🙂

6) You can practice a martial art with your children. Say what? Yes, it can be done. But during class you have to let the instructor do the parenting, especially in a traditional karate dojo (school) where there is a hierarchy of authority. Starting together means you can practice the same things at home. If you start after your child, let your child help you at home – the role reversal can be delightful for both you and your child. Don’t be surprised, though, if you outlast your child and your child moves on to other things while you continue with your martial art. This is very common and means nothing more than your child is forging his or her own identity.

5) Martial arts are more than just a workout. There’s problems to solve, like how to escape an arm bar or how to string techniques together. You’ll have goals to reach – for instance earning the next belt or refining a form. Not to mention you’ll hang out with a diverse group of some really great people. Every mother needs exercise, mental stimulation, accomplishments of her own, and some time to interact with adults. Martial arts are a time-efficient way of gathering these benefits and more. One hour of Karate class time to me equals three hours of other activities – like, say, reading a book, hanging out with friends, and jogging.

4) Adults reap the same benefits as children! Read any article out there on how martial arts are good for kids and put yourself into the article. Are there areas of your life where you could use a bit more self discipline? Do you want to be a great role model for your children? The discipline of practicing a martial art benefits mind, body and spirit and keeps one from stagnating.

3) You will age more gracefully if you keep up your martial arts studies for as long as possible. Look up some of the more “seasoned” warriors and you’ll see what I mean. Along with the rest of the body martial arts work out your vestibular system (responsible for maintaining your balance) and your core muscles. You will be less prone to falling and most likely your back will stay straight. You can’t stop the inevitable but studies show that you can slow it. Your continued good health puts less of a burden on your children.  I helped my mother with my grandparents, so I know what I’m talking about.

2) Middle-aged lady hormonal changes are the worst and they usually hit at a time when you need to be the best parent you can be. At perimenopause us women turn into freaky wild-eyed hags, our periods are hell, and at the same time… cough, cough… um… To put it delicately I have a lot more sympathy for young men than I‘ve ever had in my life. Exercise helps all that on a physical level, but there’s more. It’s true that karate has been an outlet for my inner harpy but it’s also given me the mental discipline to overcome the emotional/hormonal weirdness when it wafts through my psyche. My husband and nearly-grown children don’t mind my Karate-related absences. They know I’ll be easier to live with in between classes.

1) You are your children’s body guard. Most women know this instinctively. Awareness, instinct, and adrenaline count for a lot, but wouldn’t it be nice to have more tools to use in a crisis situation? Do you know exactly where and how to hit someone who is grabbing your child? Do you really have time to dig around in your diaper bag for the mace and is your child in the line of fire? It’s easy for me to be an armchair quarterback and to say I would do this or do that, but I do know that I’ve had training in shattering joints and a smattering of training fighting off more than one attacker and in cooperating with others to take someone down. I have tools pounded into my muscle memory – and that is what martial arts training gives you. Hours of sweating and drilling turn into something your body can do automatically if needed. I hope I never have to use these tools to save one of my kiddos, but it’s good to know that I have them.

Still not convinced? Read more articles on my blog and see what I’ve gained. I re-started Karate at the age of 44 knowing full well what I’d be getting into because I’d studied as a teen. I wish I’d started sooner. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re too busy, too out of shape, too old, too this, too that. Just join your children in their class or find a martial art that fits you and start. It’s a lot of fun.

This post was inspired by a mix of happenstances.  After a woman in his community was raped, Greg Sommers-Herivel offered a month of free Karate instruction to local women. I knew many women would not take him up on his generous offer because they feel like mothering would get in the way.  Then “Super” Dan Anderson shared this rather good article on Facebook, “7 Reasons Why Your Child Should Practice Martial Arts“by Eric C Stevens.  A mother commented on how much benefit her son was getting from his martial art and I replied, “And now for 7 Reasons Why Mom Should Practice Martial Arts.”  Roseanne Mussar saw the comment I’d left and suggested I write this article.  Thank you, everyone!

After work and lunch on a day when I didn’t have Karate class, I found myself dreading the exercise and practice I needed. It isn’t unusual for me to fight the attractions of computer, couch, and bed, but that day it was hitting me hard. I was still sore from an intensive workout two days prior, even with a recovery day. I decided what I needed was a change of scenery. I got into the car and drove to my favorite local park.

I was dismayed to see so many vehicles, and I almost didn’t get a parking space. However I knew most people wouldn’t opt for the “primitive” trails down the steep bluff to the beach below. Water bottle in hand, I strode confidently down the wooded trail. I saw no one. I broke into a jog, water bottle sloshing and gurgling in my hand, feet drumming the bare earth.

I noticed that I was very confidently placing my feet to avoid tree roots. Years ago when I first discovered this park, I would never have rocketed down the steep primitive trail at a jog. I admit it is hazardous, and a misstep could result in serious injury. There’s vegetation to stop a fall, but… Tree trunks are hard, and underbrush scratches. Rescue would involve a specialized team, lots of rope, and a hand-carried stretcher for at least a quarter mile. I let go of my fear, trusted my eyes and feet, and enjoyed breathing in the rich forest air.

I only encountered two people on my jog down to the beach. They were young women with milk-chocolate brown skin, covered head to foot in brightly colored clothes. I must have looked very strange to them – tank top, shorts, pale as a corpse, middle-aged, muscled and sweating. Nonetheless, as they moved aside and I flew past we greeted one another with smiles and quick pleasantries.

The trail I chose had a short but intense uphill stretch before plunging down the bluff again. I sprinted up this, slowing to a walk near the top. I was disappointed I couldn’t jog the whole slope. I reckoned that last summer (July 2016) I probably could’ve done it. I got control of my breathing and told myself I was still doing well especially compared to most women my age.

Soon I came out to the paved trail and the stairs down to the beach. There’s anywhere from 101 to 105 stairs depending on how much sand is piled at the bottom of the tower. Before I knew it I was at the beach. Immediately I found a driftwood log at the perfect height for some inclined push ups. I did a few, knowing I’d do more arm work in class the next day. Then I scouted out the beach for a spot for kata (forms) practice.

I picked up a fragment of a large barnacle and stowed it in my fanny pack as a reminder to myself that no matter how frustrated I get with my weak areas, I’m not like a barnacle. Barnacles just sit in their shells all day long, never going anywhere. All they do is kick food into their mouths. Too many people are like barnacles, I mused as I jogged towards an empty stretch of sand. I don’t stay in a little shell. I don’t like being out of my comfort zone but I recognize that’s the only way I’ll grow.

After about a quarter mile I was sufficiently far from my fellow human beings so as to be more or less alone. I did a few abdominal exercises in the warm sand, then started practicing kata. I did the six advanced kata I’ve memorized. Up the beach about 50 yards (roughly 50 meters) away, a guy was on his cell phone. Down the beach 50 yards away, a mom, two kids and a dog were enjoying their day. On the water a motorboat idled by. I don’t think anyone really cared much about what I was doing.

Kata is very different when you’re not barefoot on hardwood floor or foam mats. Add a slight slope, sand, and patches of round rocks, and you bet you have to adapt. My balance was tested many times. I was pleasantly surprised that I was able to pull off the kata named Rohai Shodan with only one wobble. In that kata, one has to get into sagi ashi dachi (crane stance – yes, on one leg) three times. The advantage of practicing kata on sand is that one gets to see the embusen (floor pattern). For the kata I’ve most recently memorized, I moved to a “virgin” stretch of sand. I was pleased that the marks in the sand matched the embusen I’d envisioned.

I felt good, much better than I had felt before I grabbed my car keys. I used driftwood logs for some stretches, the warm sand for others. I enjoyed the sparkle of the sun on the water, the smell of ocean in the air. Then, yes, I had to get back up those 100+ stairs and then that steep bluff trail.

The colorfully-dressed young women I met earlier were sitting on a log near the stair tower. I grinned at them and remarked, “It’s worth the walk, isn’t it?” They agreed and laughed. They commented they had gotten a little lost on the way down, and I advised them to take the paved trail back up.  I wished them a good day, then started climbing.

I was going at a slower pace and my feet didn’t need much of my attention. I enjoyed the rich green smell of the forest in summer. I listened to the birds and to what they were saying about each other, about me, and about other intruders in their territories. Based on the bird calls, I tried to locate the other intruders with my ears… There! One faint voice – a woman’s. I know the trails well, so I knew approximately where we’d pass each other.

Twenty seconds later, a dog rounded a corner followed closely by a second dog. I cooed to them, then they took off up the trail, no doubt to alert their owner. Shortly thereafter, I could hear her quite clearly, and my suspicions were confirmed when she came into sight – I saw she was indeed talking on her cell phone. Her dogs had assessed me and dismissed me as harmless long before my presence registered with her. She was startled to see me standing quietly by the side of the trail even though we had been in full view of each other for three seconds.

After the lady and her dogs passed me I pushed my pace just a little harder just to get my heart rate up a little so I could practice controlling my breathing. I used the bird sounds as my guide to how hard to push, being careful not to pant and drown out even the slightest rustlings in the underbrush. It paid off. I turned my head at a rustle, stopping to see what creature was there. A squirrel and I stared at each other. He started twitching his tail, trying to decide if silence or scolding would be better. Eventually he concluded I wasn’t a threat, and so began foraging for new leaves. Tiny branches bent under his weight and he nearly slipped. His recovery was funny and noisy. I laughed and continued up the trail.

I was at the top of the bluff when I realized that I felt like the climb had been almost effortless. I was stunned. I remembered years ago I was always absolutely worn out by that climb. I knew three years of Karate had improved my physical fitness, but exactly how huge the change had been didn’t hit me until that moment.

On the way back to the car, I reflected back on my workout. At first blush, I didn’t see that I’d done much Karate. 6 kata practiced once each. Hmm… Doesn’t sound like much. But then again, there’s more to karate than kihon (basics), kumite (sparring) and kata. I worked on footwork during my jog down the trail. I was polite when I met people who were from a culture not my own – politeness is in our dojo kun (school creed) that we recite at the beginning and end of each class. I pushed myself physically and measured my progress. I trained myself in observation and breath control. Most of all, I found and successfully implemented a solution for my initial inertia and angst – in other words, I exercised self discipline. Did I have a Karate workout in the woods and on the sunny beach? You bet I did. I hope to do it again soon.