This, that, and the other was dragging me down today (4/23/16), and I found myself sinking deeper as I drove to Affiliate YMCA. The instant I started moving in Zumba, I started feeling better. Later, during the Affilate YMCA Dojo’s Saturday practice time, something beautiful happened. One of my “some days” was today.
It took me several weeks to learn Bassai Dai, my first advanced kata after some thirty years. I was fully expecting to take several weeks to learn Nijushiho. Today, all I needed was a bit of reminding of what comes next. Suddenly, I realized I had Nijushiho memorized. I then spent at least an hour hammering that kata into my brain. Now I can begin refining it.
Learning any kata is a triumph for me because I have directional dyslexia. So this felt really good, especially as the process of learning Nijushiho was one of the things I was discouraged about as I drove to Affilate Y. Once I had that kata solidly memorized, I realized 24 movements (the translation of the kata’s name) makes for a short kata. So Nijushiho isn’t quite the bear I’d imagined it to be after all.
Some day… Two words that give hope. Some day I’ll be rid of the shoulder tension. Some day I’ll be consistent with throwing from my core. Some day I’ll learn Rohai Shodan (the second kata I’ll be tested on for my next rank). Some day I’ll be a black belt.
How do I know that one day I’ll find a “some day” has turned into “today?” I have faith in my “some days” because I’ve reached so many milestones already. Some of these milestones are belt ranks. Some are tournament medals. Some milestones involve learning something I’ve only read or heard about. The most precious milestones of all involve my instructors trusting me with their safety.
The trick to countering discouragement is to remember all the days when a “some day” became “today.” Many of those milestones were reached in spite of numerous challenges. I ran into someone’s car in the parking lot before my last belt test. I am dyslexic. Last year, I won first place medals in a tournament despite an injury. I had 22 pounds of fat the day I started my first Karate class in 27 years. And let’s face it, I’m not exactly a spring chicken. In spite of it all, I’ve had many, many “some days” come true. That should give me hope next time I’m bummed about some aspect of my Karate or my life.

Last month I had an incredible round of free-sparring with a white belt at College Dojo. Yes, a brand spankin’ new beginner who, at that time, had only about 18 classes’ worth of training. She was a petite gal, no previous martial arts experience. As with any white belt, I started off gently and slowly. I can tell pretty quickly who’s had martial arts experience – by now I’ve sparred with collegiates who have backgrounds in Tae Kwon Do, wrestling, Kung Fu, Sumo, boxing, and other styles of Karate. This gal was a complete newbie of average ability but… Oh boy was she feisty!
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 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.
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!
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.
And that is most precious and powerful indeed.