A Beginner's Journey

Today’s expedition into my February journal starts out light and fluffy but ends in one of the deepest lessons I’ve had to date.

2/11/16 – Home Dojo

Tonight’s lesson:  We are dependent on one another, and it is a joy when we are generous with each other.

Sensei’s wife will be helping out both days next week then she’ll be helping out one day per week from here on out.  This will help tremendously.  Also, our extra “invitation only” advanced training will start up later this month.  Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

Neither of these black belts get paid to do this.  They’re taking their personal time to teach us.

Sensei asked me tonight if I could help tomorrow night moving tournament mats from storage into a truck.  I’d long since made sure my calendar was clear because I suspected I would be needed.  I joyfully said yes even though this is going to be a boatload of hard work (not enough people are going to show up).  I have been given so much, I will be given more, and there is a need I can fill.  Of course I will be there.

2/14/16 – Tournament

My Sensei and I spent a good bit of time together this weekend what with all the work that needed to be done.  He initiated conversations about some very hard things our dojo is facing, things that have been weighing me down just a bit lately.  I got a lot of insight into his perspective on things.  I trust him a bit more now.  One of the hardest conversations took place at a restaurant, seated with four other good folks and I was by far the lowest ranked.  If he trusted them enough to have this kind of conversation with me in that setting, I had to put trust in them too and give my perspective back.  I’m not used to being that vulnerable.  At one point one person said (seriously) I’d just earned myself some pushups, but my Sensei didn’t think so at all.  Narrow escape there, LOL.  But yeah, definitely navigating some tricky waters both there and while sharing rides to and from different places.  I think I came out OK, and with a new appreciation of how difficult it is to be a Sensei.

if I’m going to be working someday with these higher-ranked people, especially Sensei himself, I guess I need to get my feet wet sometime discussing the hard things.  Sensei initiated every single one of the conversations, so I think he was prying me out of my clam shell.  The hard “stuff” affects me not only as a present student but also as a potential future assistant instructor.  Mostly I’m relieved that Sensei brought so much out into the open and gave me a chance to ask questions and express opinions.  It was really intimidating to do this with the others in the restaurant even though each one there has had their hands in my training, and three of them have personally pushed me hard during sparring and have seen what I’m made of.

I’m honored that Sensei took a chance on me.  There are any number of ways I could’ve responded poorly and there’s any amount of damage I could do in the future.  But I didn’t and I won’t.  I guess if Sensei didn’t think I could handle these difficult talks, he wouldn’t have made himself and the dojo vulnerable.  I wrote a little thank-you email to Sensei for taking a chance on me.

************

I think what’s happening here is a parallel to the physical training I’m getting.  There’s a lot that goes into the running of a dojo because it’s not full of robots.  It’s full of human beings and all that goes with them, both good and bad.  I have to trust my mentors and my own guts to navigate me through the tricky and sticky parts of relating to my fellow karateka.

This week I’ll be sharing from my journal about what I learned about the relationship between martial arts student and instructor.  Today’s sub-theme:  Good instructors care.  A lot.

2/1/16  College Dojo

I do know this already, but today it was really driven home to me how much College Sensei, who is also our organization’s Chief Instructor of Washington State, cares about my progress.

I have a rather unusual situation for a beginner.

Home Dojo is struggling, and it’s not Home Dojo Sensei’s fault.  Due to his employer and the YMCA, we have zero time before or after class to ask him questions that involve him demonstrating movements.  Home Dojo Sensei relies heavily on us senior students to teach new beginners.  We’re willing, but that means we sacrifice a good bit of our own training.  We used to have two Senseis, but Major Employer laid off one and nobody else can replace him.  No brown belts live close enough or can schedule the time.  So that is what it is.

College Dojo is a college class, so it’s really geared towards beginners.  That said, College Sensei likes it that some colored belts are sticking around for fun – I overheard him telling the big group of new white belts that he’s trying to give them the experience of being in a real dojo.  However, because this is a college class, often Sensei is busy with administrative stuff and, let’s face it, if someone is paying for a class they’re taking for credit, they get first priority for Sensei’s time (or even my time as the 2nd most senior student) after class.

I figure I will need to juggle training and teaching sooner or later anyway, so I’m not complaining.  So this has come sooner in my career rather than later.  OK – bring it.  This is the path I’ve chosen, these are the dojos I will be teaching in once I reach Shodan.  So I have to be clever.  I train at a third dojo on Saturday and visit others every now and then on Fridays or during college breaks.

This hasn’t been a problem until I started learning Bassai Dai kata after I promoted in mid-November.  It took me about six weeks to realize that it’s not my imagination, the three Senseis I train under have three different ways to do the last two ending movements.  Yeah I’m kinda slow, but to be fair, there were hugely significant holiday breaks that majorly disrupted my learning this kata.

I wasn’t about to say anything but “Ossu!” and learn the three ways of doing things.  I was going to simply pick my fave for tournament and do Home Dojo Sensei’s way for my next belt test.  But long story short the cat was very definitely let out of the bag at an organization-wide event last month.  All three Senseis who I train under regularly now know 🙂

Today, this, that, and the other happened and College Sensei couldn’t help me with my kata.  But he stopped me after we bowed out of the dojo and asked how I was coming along with it.  We talked for awhile about how I was learning three different things.  He just needed to hear that I was not discouraged by my experiences.  I was able to assure him that once I realized what was going on, I thought it was pretty cool to learn different ways of doing things.  I affirmed that I just have to remember which dojo I’m in while I’m teaching  kata (there are two extremely slight differences in two of the Pinan series as well).

I think College Sensei is a bit dismayed that so much is being put on a 6th kyu’s shoulders.  So he was checking up on me to make sure I’m not buckling under the pressure.  That was really, really, really cool of him.  I’ve known him for a little over two years now (my daughter took his class before I joined the Y class) and I think of him as a teacher and friend.  So yeah, he cares.  But today it hit me that this Godan (5th degree black belt) who is Chief Instructor for Washington State cares about a lowly 6th kyu’s progress.  Wow…

2/3/16 – College Dojo

Today’s lesson – continuing on the theme of how much College Sensei cares about my progress.  He taught the other colored belts how to foil my signature move (roundhouse kick to the head).  If you stop and think about it, if I’m to make any sort of progress, I can’t be a “one trick horse.”  And if the rest of the class can’t counter what I throw, they need to make progress defending themselves  🙂  So College Sensei also cares about my classmates 🙂

This journal entry was definitely about my learning process, but it didn’t fit neatly into kata or kumite subcategories.  So this gets a post all of its own!

Feb 21, 2016 – Home Dojo  Advanced Class:  First Day

Oh my gosh…  What a treat today was!

Class consisted of me, my “big brother,” Sensei, and Sensei’s wife (if she’s going to be a regular part of our dojo I need something better to call her).  Wow.  Talk about personalized instruction and individual attention!

We started off with some light warmups, then…  Just jabbing while standing in shoulder stance.  Yep – jabbing.  With me, that meant I got to work on having loose shoulders and getting some hip action going.  After I got in a good many repetitions  of that, Sensei broke out a focus mitt.

“Hit this the way you were hitting.”

thock.

“Now hit it the way you’re supposed to hit.”

WHAP!!!

I got a good many repetitions of that in.  Sensei upped the ante.

“Close your eyes.  You know where it is.  Hit it!”

WHAP!!!  WHAP!!!  WHAP!!!  WHAP!!!  A good many repetitions of that!

I was left to my own devices to drill some more while Sensei worked with my big brother.  I centered myself at the dividing line between two mirrors and carried on jabbing while waiting for the next activity.

When we were done jabbing, Sensei asked, “What do you want to work on?”

Big brother hesitated, so I spoke up.  I’ve known for a few days now everything I want to work on and which one is my highest priority.  Sensei got me started with his wife, and the two of us worked together while Sensei worked with my big brother.

I have trouble with tournament fighting.  I’m used to free sparring, which is a whole different animal.  So a few days ago I narrowed it down to one specific thing that could be an exercise in and of itself.  What to do when directed to start fighting.

Something interesting that I’m going to have to get used to with this training is I should expect the unexpected.  I’m used to the rules of the normal classroom.  At one point when Sensei got me started on what I wanted to work on, I misunderstood something and came out the worse for it at the hands of his wife.  So I was told to defend myself even if I think I’m not following instructions 😉  A couple of minutes after that, Sensei deliberately set me up.  He gave me some instruction or other, we did what we were supposed to, but then I found myself in a full-out sparring match with Sensei!  YIKE!  OK, message received 🙂

Sensei’s wife was wonderful to work with.  She scaled things back and broke things down as needed.  Her explanations and feedback were clear and direct.

The hour was up all too quickly.  I almost wanted to cry like a small child because playtime was over.

MAN that was fun!

So I have a feeling there was more to the “close your eyes” exercise than Sensei’s explanation of not focusing on the mitt being there but instead focusing on targeting beyond the mitt.  That’s the surface of the exercise, and a very valuable lesson it is – I’m not discounting that.  But looking deeper…

How much do I trust Sensei that this exercise will work?  If I didn’t even try, if I argued or whined, I wouldn’t be a good student.  So I have to trust that I’ll learn from the exercise even if (actually, especially if) I fail and punch Sensei’s nose instead – which wouldn’t happen ’cause he’d move out of the way.  More than that, Sensei’s assertion of, “You know where it is,” means he’s telling me to trust myself.

In the dojo, there’s no hiding what I am and what I am not – especially when I’m in a tiny class.  Every technique that I struggle with, every hint of exhaustion or bad attitude, every imperfection is impossible to hide.  I can’t pretend to have abilities I don’t have.  I cannot pretend to be perfect.  There’s a vulnerability there – the real me is out in the open.  But at the same time, it’s liberating because if I acknowledge the areas that need work, that is the beginning of my growth in skill and knowledge.

I was at college dojo today, and warm-ups barely warmed me up.  There is an optional belt test on Monday, so College Sensei pulled me out of line to go around the dojo and give feedback.  Then he had everyone sit down and called up groups by rank.  By the time I was called at the very end of class, my muscles had lost what little warmth they’d had.

I did my kata “cold.”

I sucked big time.

So that in and of itself was a lesson – get warmed up in staging before entering a tournament ring.  But College Sensei saw deeper into what was going on with me.  The whole class got to hear his feedback, and I hope they got the same things out of it I did.

Without realizing it, I was caught in the Centipede’s Dilemma:

A centipede was happy – quite!
Until a toad in fun
Said, “Pray, which leg moves after which?”
This raised her doubts to such a pitch,
She fell exhausted in the ditch
Not knowing how to run.

– Unknown

College Sensei assigned me some homework.  Get the bunkai I want down solid for each and every movement and sequence.  Then forget about pretty form and exact cadence – just unleash the beast and do the kata as if I were fighting for my life.  Do that as many times as it takes to get the drama and emotion that is lacking due to my crippling worry over all the nitpicky details.  Then go back to the proper form/cadence.

The underlying lesson for me and my kohai was this:  When your student has a big problem, try to give him or her a tool he or she can use for making improvements.

The room emptied after class, and I was alone.  I got started on my homework.  I broke all the rules.  I breathed as loudly as I wanted.  I kiai-ed whenever I darn well felt like it.  I even did a few moves faster than I’ve been told to because if I’m going to dislocate two or three joints at one go I don’t want to draw out the torture, I want to get the job done!  I think I ran through the kata about eight times before I realized I needed to scoot on home.

I was dripping with sweat and exhausted, but I felt great.  I’d just defeated a bunch of creeps who had been about to gang-rape my daughter (I’m an old-fashioned “method” actor – it’s all about motivation).  I also felt a little sad that I had strayed so far from what’s worked for me in the past – pretending I’m in a real fight, to the point where I can tell you what my attackers look like.

I didn’t feel like running the kata the way it’s supposed to go.  That can wait for tomorrow evening’s class.  I just want to let the feeling of “unleashing the beast” sink in.