Author: Joelle White

The odd one out.  Not chosen.  It happens.  It’s not that I’m unpopular, it’s just that we risk pushups if we don’t quickly find a partner to work with.  As a result, sometimes in the mad scramble I’m standing there with my hand raised and nobody finds me.  I don’t get upset about this because invariably, when this happens, I get to work with a black belt.  And that is wicked awesome.

We bowed to our partners, and the Sensei told us to get into fighting stance.  I did so, but he put his hand over my fist pad and told me to wait.  The Sensei instructed the class about the drill and I waited eagerly for my chance to try it out with him.  I turned my attention to watching the pairs of karateka as they worked up and down the floor.  The dojo Sensei worked with me for just a brief while then I had to go back to watching.

I was so absorbed with watching the other students that I didn’t notice the dojo Sensei coming up beside me.  “What do you see?”  he asked.

I told him about various pairs and individuals.

“Look at the class as a whole,” Sensei instructed, “then tell me what you see.”

I watched and thought about what the drill was supposed to accomplish.  I noticed a trend, then gave my opinion.  The Sensei called a halt.

“Joelle and I saw the same thing, but I disagree with her opinion of what should be done differently,” he started.

I chuckled a bit and thought to myself, “He’s entitled to disagree – after all, he’s wearing a black belt and I’m not.”

It turns out I wasn’t quite seeing exactly what people should have been learning from the drill.  I only had part of the overall picture.  That’s OK.  As I gain more experience, I’ll have more and better insight.  The dojo Sensei gave his explanation of what he’d like to see people doing and not doing and told everyone what my solution lacked.  Then I got to work with another student.  I quickly caught on to what I was supposed to be doing, so I wasn’t the least bit “behind” because I’d been off to one side watching.  Later on I was able to apply what I’d learned from the drill while sparring.

What if I’d been put off by not having people eagerly jostling to be my partner?  What if I’d moped instead of watching and analyzing?  I’d have completely missed out on an opportunity to learn.  I was given a gift – a chance to think about and analyze a dojo full of karateka just like I will need to do when I myself am a Sensei.  Never mind that I don’t have the insight that a Yondan has, that’s OK – I was given a chance to try.  I had fun, I was challenged to do something I’d never done before, and I learned from the experience.

Later it occurred to me that if I’m ever too injured to participate, I could practice watching individual students and the class as a whole for trends.  So I guess I can knock injury off the list of things that would keep me from going to class 🙂

I was flubbing a block in a kata, so the dojo sensei came over to give me some pointers.  He told me to kick him in the groin.  I was taken aback.  I know from kicking foam shields just how much power I’m capable of generating with a kick.  Timidly, slowly, I threw a wimpy gedan mae gheri (front kick to a “low” target).

“No,” the dojo Sensei admonished, “Kick. me. in. the. groin.  I’m wearing a cup,” (I blush easily, so I probably turned beet red), “You won’t hurt me.”

I reset and went full throttle for, ahem, that target.  I need not have worried about the Sensei’s safety.  He deflected my kick easily with the block I’d been flubbing in my kata.  I experienced exactly what that technique can be used for.

Where does my reluctance to go full out with an attack come from?  When I’m called up to help demonstrate something I go slowly unless instructed otherwise.  That way I don’t inadvertently cause harm and the other students can see exactly what is happening.  But my hesitation to go full speed and power with that kick to the groin was more deeply rooted than that.

Two past experiences clouded my thinking.  I saw a guy racked in a tournament when I was a teenager. Yes, ladies, men do know what real pain is.  I was reluctant to inflict that pain on a mentor and a friend.  I have no doubt I could inflict pain on an attacker with no trace of reluctance, but harming someone I like and respect?  That’s a different matter.  I have harmed someone in karate.  I won’t go into details out of respect for the other person’s privacy.  What happened could have come about at the hands of someone else, but even knowing that, I still felt so awful that I came as close to quitting Karate as I ever have.

I’ve only had two negative experiences that pertained to my reaction to being told to kick the Sensei in the groin.  In contrast, I’ve had many, many positive experiences with throwing techniques full speed and power against a black belt during demonstrations or while exploring bunkai.  I’ve neither been able to inflict harm nor have I sustained harm, and I’ve always learned something.  I should have remembered the numerous positive experiences.

Two days later the Sensei and I were with a group of other karateka.  We were discussing self defense seminars and someone told us he’d been in a big foam suit with angry women kicking him in the groin for an hour.  The Sensei who had taught me said, “We should teach them to go for the knees, not the groin.  Everyone knows how to protect their groin.”  I shook with silent laughter as he grinned at me.

Later, I asked myself if, in that moment when he instructed me to throw the kick, I had trusted his abilities to keep himself safe. Reluctantly, I had to answer myself that really and truly, I had not trusted him.  I should have realized he knew exactly what was coming and there was no way I could throw that kick too quickly for him to block.  But I was too wrapped up in what might happen to realize that I should extend some trust.  I was focused on the tiny chance that things would go wrong, not the high probability that I would be happy about what I’d learn.

I’m used to being responsible for other people.  It’s a huge part of my job as a mother.  It’s part of my professional life too, and I love helping college students get the resources they need.  It’s also part of my karate life as a Sempai (higher-ranked student).  After the little demonstration of what the block can do, the Sensei reminded me that if he gets hurt, it’s his fault, and if I get hurt, it’s his fault too.  This was exactly what he’d told me a few months ago when he was instructing me about the duties of a Sempai.  It works the other way too.  When I’m the kohai, I have to not be paralyzed by the weight of a responsibility that isn’t mine.

This was more than a lesson about that block that I wasn’t doing correctly in the kata.  From time to time I really understand that there is more to Karate than just the proper way to set a stance or execute a technique.  Obviously I’ve thought a lot about this one little part of just one class.  What other lessons am I learning that I haven’t processed on a conscious level?  I’m thinking more than I could possibly know.  What I do know is that I am growing and learning through these experiences.  It’s a process and a journey.

For this post I’m doing things a little differently.  Usually my posts are text-driven and the pictures are mere decoration.  Also, most of the images I use are not my own.  I was looking through my photos and digital art and decided it would be fun to do the opposite.  Use the pictures to drive the text and use all my own images.  So sit back and enjoy!

In any given dojo, chances are you’ll find people who are just starting out, at least one person who is mature in his or her skills, and some who are in between.  We’re all growing and learning.

In our Karate journey, we go through seasons.  Sometimes we are in “winter” – working through illness, injury, or maybe even a tough situation that the whole dojo is facing.  Sometimes we are bursting with new knowledge and growth.  We can learn from every season.

Weird broccoli.  Who wants some?  How about burpees – let’s do twenty right now!  Just like broccoli, there are some things in Karate that are hard to get excited about. But they’re good for us, so we do them.

Sea glass starts out as ordinary broken glass.  But something magical happens after a few years of being tumbled by waves, buffeted by rocks, and scoured with sand.  Rough edges are smoothed away and the glass acquires a beautiful frosted finish.  A gem is formed.  Karateka are refined through training.

There are times when I feel like a salmon swimming against the current.  Perseverance is hard, but it’s worth it.

I have to admit, sometimes I’m a little chicken during Karate classes, belt tests, and tournaments…

But then I remind myself that Karate is fun.  Deadly, but fun.  Kinda like a rattlesnake wearing Groucho Marx glasses.  OK, maybe I’d better stop the analogies here, LOL!