A Beginner's Journey

 

Whenever I get ready for Karate, I’m struck by how few things I have on my person.  Things from my life outside the dojo get safely tucked away in a locker.  I put on simple garments (gi jacket, belt and pants) and grab a tote bag containing only basic necessities – fist pads, mouth guard, band-aids, and Kleenex.  I leave a lot behind.  I need very little.

As I move from the locker room through the busy hallway of the rec center, there are no pretenses about who and what I am.  Nothing hides my purpose in being there.  I don’t know anything about where the other people are going, but once glance tells them about me.

Most of the time in class I don’t think about anything but what I’m doing.  I am muscle, breath, movement…  I am action and reaction.  Each moment is a chance to improve on the previous moment.  I live in the “now.”  I forget my age, my income level, and all the chores waiting for me at home.  When I’m at my best my body, mind, and soul are immersed in one thing and one thing only – learning.

 

 

I can’t hide the level of intensity I put into my Karate.  I sweat.  That salty, smelly liquid seeping out of every pore is difficult to fake.  I kiai – a war cry that comes from the gut, the heart, and the soul.  It sounds really lame if I don’t put everything I have into it.  I make mistakes – a genuinely human trait.

From time to time I have to admit to not knowing something or I need to ask for help.  If I don’t, my lack of knowledge will be agonizingly obvious.  If I think I know something but am mistaken, that too will show.  There is no faking one’s way through something.  Either I can do something or it needs work.

Simplicity can mean a paucity of material things.  I don’t need a lot with me in the dojo.  I wear a uniform.  Simplicity can mean clarity – I don’ t need to clutter up my mind by thinking about stuff that’s not related to Karate.  Simplicity can mean truth – there’s physical and audible proof of my intensity.  Simplicity can mean candor – admitting I don’t  know everything.

Karate is so incredibly complex.  Yet there are elements of simplicity as well.  It is a paradox that fascinates me.

Do you remember the old (1984) Karate Kid movie?

Daniel, the main character, slaved for four days in Mr. Miyagi’s house and yard.  Mr. Miyagi, Daniel’s Sensei, kept fussing at him to do everything in a certain way.  All the while, Daniel was building muscle memory for Karate without even knowing it.

What is it really like to work in a Sensei’s yard?

One of the black belts in our organization was moving and needed help sprucing up in preparation for selling his house.  Another black belt called for a work party.  I happened to have the Saturday free, so I packed up my tools, put on my grubbiest clothes and mud boots, and off I went.

Senseis are incredibly skilled at Karate and are usually good leaders.  But they’re also regular folks.  Sure there might be a few trophies and a pile of Black Belt Magazines in their garages, but other than that, they live just like you and me.  They have neighbors and friends, and from time to time, they need help.  Just like everyone else.  After a few hours of yard work, they ache too.  And some of them use baby talk when speaking to dogs.

But what about wax on, wax off?  Were there some secret karate moves I learned without knowing it?  I did learn two new skills that will prove valuable throughout the rest of my life.  I learned to pick up stray stones and put them onto a piece of cardboard instead of tossing each one back into the border.  I learned how to use a pressure washer to get moss and bird poo off a garage door.  I suppose one could use the pressure washer as a weapon – that would sting!

 

 

I think the best thing about the time I spent working was getting to know the Senseis as human beings.  The “normal” formalities expected in a dojo were loosened.  Conversations flowed – sometimes about karate, sometimes about fitness in general, sometimes about just whatever.  I was the lowest ranked present and one of two colored belts, but it was OK for me to take initiative and make suggestions about the work that needed doing.

Did I learn any Karate at all?  Well, after the day’s work was done, three of us did “geek out” by talking about Karate.  The discussion eventually turned to  an advanced kata which was a bit beyond me.  But that’s OK.   I had fun watching my Sensei in street clothes teaching an advanced student from another dojo.   A wild rabbit in the park across the alley watched them too.

So that’s what it’s like to spend a day working in Sensei’s yard.   I’m not more gifted in Karate as a result.  Nobody used reiki on me to ease the ache in my muscles.  But I do know this – I have friends.  That’s what I gained, and it’s priceless.

 

 

You know those cartoons where an angel sits on one shoulder and a devil sits on the other, and the bewildered main character is caught in the middle of a dialogue?  My daughter, who aced Psychology 101, tells me Freud would interpret the angel as the super-ego and the devil as the id.  I’ll run with that.  Here’s what my super-ego and id might say to each other in the dojo…

Super-ego: No, you can’t run off and hide in the locker room! Spar with her. You’ll learn stuff!

 Id:  She outranks me by three belts, she’s taller than me, and she’s half my age.  She’s gonna clean my clock!

 Super-ego: It’s time!

 

Id: But I’m not ready!  I’m not good enough!  I’m OLD!  OW, I got hit!

Super-ego: Relax and play.

 

Id: But I’m in a FIGHT! OW!!!

 

Super-ego: Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless — like water….

Id: If our mind needs to be empty, quit trotting out Bruce Lee quotes and shut up already!

Super-ego:  I’ll be quiet if you stop freaking out.

 

Id: Deal.  Hey!  WOW!  FUN!  YIKE!  COOL!
 

Let’s face it – Karate isn’t about arranging flowers.  We get hurt.  Now that I’m older, I’ve discovered I don’t heal in ten minutes like I used to when I was a kid.  More like ten days!  I’ve come to realize I have an obligation to heal myself.  When I’m sick or injured, I often feel I must keep bulling through my normal routine when in fact, it’s better to do the opposite and rest.

Awww! I know how he feels.

 If I truly love Karate, I mustn’t ruin my body by trying to be brave and work through the pain.  A little time off makes me even more eager to practice and learn!  Unseen hurts of the psychological variety need to be dealt with too so that I don’t drag emotional baggage into the dojo, where it doesn’t belong.  In the end, if I take time to heal myself, I’ll be more effective at healing others.

Huh?  Wait – Karate is about taking people apart, right?  Well, yeah, and accidents do happen.  I’ve just started training in CPR and First Aid as required by my new job.  If an emergency situation arises I am under obligation to start healing others.  Fortunately, emergency situations are rare even in Karate, so I won’t have to fulfill my obligation to help with physical healing very often.   But our obligation to heal isn’t limited to first aid.  There’s another kind of healing all karateka are obligated to participate in.

 

Karate is also about building people up.  This is a form of healing.  If you don’t believe me, just ask the kid who recently discovered she can pack a powerful punch.  She doesn’t fear being pushed around by the playground bully anymore, and indeed she’s gained so much self confidence that the schoolyard bully is backing off.  That is healing.  When we take the time to teach her, to spar with her, to tell her that her punch is amazing, we are healing her.  It’s our duty to heal where we can.

Our obligation to heal can be extended even further.  Pick up trash.  Smile.  Plant a tree.  Donate.  Say something kind.  Give someone the benefit of the doubt.  Volunteer.  Karate gives us the discipline we need to reach beyond ourselves.  Let’s use that ability to heal our world one small corner at a time.

 

So there you have it.  We are under obligation to heal ourselves, others, and our world.  Yes, we are learning to maim and kill.  But we’re also learning how to build and heal.  Let’s not lose sight of that.