Foundations

March was sort of a bad month for writing blog entries. We're in the middle of the semester and I have more than a full course-load, so I've been writing less...but I HAVEN'T missed any class, which means that I've learned quite a bit even though I haven't written about it.

A few things have changed at the Refinery over the past month. Bruce went to a different Shotokan school to try and earn his 4th degree black belt, (which we can't supply him here at the Refinery), Zak's work schedule has made it impossible for him to come to class, and Blake's mom was pretty severely injured...so our classes have been kind of lacking in advanced students. Also, since school is in full swing, there has generally been less attendance over the past month, so on many days it has just been me and Sensei during the last class of the day.

Now that nobody is able to attend the 4:30 advanced class, it's just Sensei and I, as well. Let me tell you: if you want to really learn a lot, one-on-one training is absolutely the way to go!

Anyway, today during the 4:30 class, Sensei spent most of the time pushing me around. He told me to take a fighting stance and the object of the exercise was to stay on balance, no matter what. He pushed me, pulled me, tried to throw me, tried to sweep me, arm-barred me, tripped me, and the whole time I had to keep my base wide and my weight dropped in order to stay on balance.

Sensei has this new way of telling us to drop our center of gravity. Instead of saying, "Bend your knees" he says, "Be humble". Humility means serving, and in order to do that, you place yourself beneath those you serve...and it's also a lot quicker than saying, "Bend your knees".

Anyway, the wider my base was and the lower my center of gravity, the harder it was for Sensei to push me/pull me off balance. He said that this is because when you have a strong foundation, you have a strong stance. We practice stances all the time, but it really put things into perspective for me to be knocked over a few times.

Foundations are really important. Ask any home-builder. If your house isn't built on a strong foundation, when the hard times come, it will sink into the ground and collapse. This is why we spend so much time practicing the basics in karate. Every advanced move has basic moves in it...and every basic move will help prepare for advanced moves. Just imagine a jump-spinning-hook-kick without a bent front leg! Guess what that sounds like? WHAM! It feels even worse than it sounds. Trust me.

It's important to build our lives on strong foundations, as well. Sometimes we see something good and we realize that we really want to make our whole lives about that thing. Sometimes it becomes our job. Sometimes it becomes a well-treasured hobby. Sometimes, it's even a person!

But at any point in our lives, those things can be taken away. We might lose our jobs. We might become sick or injured. Our houses and possessions might be destroyed in a natural disaster. Friends and family eventually grow old or sick and die. Our lives and the very things that we believe to be so strong and steadfast...aren't. They are fragile and finite. Eventually, even the human race will cease to exist on Earth. Nothing lasts. Everything passes through the natural cycle of life and death.

So what foundation of this world can we hope to build our lives on? Nothing on Earth will last forever...but God is not of this Earth. He created it and lived on it, but he is not of it. He is not finite; he will not die. He will not even shake or stumble or sway in the wind. He is a solid foundation...the ONLY solid foundation. God is the only one that will not grow tired or crumble to the ground. He won't decay. He won't lose his luster or his strength with time. He won't even be out of breath from a series of sparring matches. He is not of the Earth, which makes it difficult to base our Earthly lives around him, but nothing else in the world will hold. Nothing else will last.

All of it will someday fade away...but God will always remain. Our orange belt verse is Proverbs 18:10, which says, "The name of the lord is a strong tower. The righteous run into it and are safe". There is no greater foundation; no better place to build your life than on God. God, who commands the oceans and calms the storms; at whose whisper mountains shudder and nations fall to their knees...God, who is on his throne; who is reigning and who is never shaken; who never falls. Never fails. Never abandons.

The ways of this world say that we will die and ultimately lose...but God's promise is that we will win, either way...because through him, we cannot lose. If our God is for us, then who can ever stop us? If our God is with us, what can stand against us? Nothing, because our foundation is everlasting, eternal, true, and good.

We will be pushed and pulled in our lives. We'll be swept and arm-barred, thrown to the ground, choked, pinned, and rolled. We will be hurt. We will fall. But we will fall on something greater than the nicest martial arts mat, and we will stand back up with our base wide and our knees bent. And nothing will defeat us, because when the day is done and our time here is gone...we win.

And that's that.

Priorities

Today Sensei and I did a demo at a church. It had a small congregation and they were very warm and hospitable to us. We taught some basic moves (rising block, double punch, front kick...) and demonstrated some kata (Tioga I and Bo Shodan). Afterward, we worshiped and Sensei gave a great sermon. The kids loved it, and it looked like even some of the parents were getting into it!

I was really excited about everything too, because it was the first time I'd been able to participate in martial arts for about two weeks. My concussion headache is gone, but almost every day, I get mini-headaches in various spots on my head. My mom, who is the TBI specialist in the house, isn't concerned with it, though. She cleared me to go back and...well...moms usually have the last say anyway, so I'll be back in class tomorrow! :)

After listening to Sensei's sermon this morning, though, I realized that this two-week hiatus has been really good for me. The main point of his sermon was that it's really important to have a strong foundation in something that won't let you down. Of course, that foundation isn't music, or another person, or even martial arts...it's God.

I really really love karate. I'm not sure if everybody in the world knows it yet (I think they do) but right now martial arts is my favorite thing to do. Even music, which is what I've chosen to make a career out of, comes in second to karate at the moment. Training is so much fun and it makes me feel good and I enjoy having the chance to teach and be taught by everybody at the Refinery. Since I began training again, I feel healthier and stronger and I'm at a much higher level of thinking than before.

But Sensei said today that, "If you really really love something and you give it to God, He will give it back to you and it'll be three times better because now you're doing it in His name." (I paraphrased that a little bit, but that's basically what he said). I find it very difficult to consider the thought of giving up martial arts at all, for any reason. I survived these two weeks but I didn't really enjoy not being able to participate. I realize, though, that the only time that I'll have to quit is when I start making my life more about karate than about God. God's gotta come first.

I think this two-week period of frustration and impatience was a good indicator that I've gotten a little bit too involved in karate. I love it so much and that isn't going to change anytime soon, but in the excitement of training and everything I forgot to make God my first priority. I relied on Him a lot over the past two weeks to help me keep my spirit strong and my attitude positive in spite of pain and impatience and anger...and even though sometimes it was tough, God found ways to keep me going and even to work through me in the lives of other people. I guess you could say I got grounded, but in a good way.

It was a great reminder that it's not a matter of what deserves my top priority, but who. It's a little bit difficult for me to think of giving martial arts away because I want to keep it so much...I love training; I treasure it. But after recovering from my concussion, I know now that I can trust God to take what I treasure and to tweak it and refine it and make it work for His glory. And I can deal with that. In fact...I'd be delighted to.

Amen!

Courtesy

Courtesy. It's in the black belt code (or at least the black belt code I was taught as a kid): Honesty, courtesy, integrity, self-control, perseverance, and indomitable spirit. We used to repeat those words, in that order, right before class ended when I took Kempo-fu. I'll never forget the code because of the constant repetition.

We have a sort-of new student training with us named Blake. He took Jujitsu, from what I understand, and reached orange belt in Taekwondo. Blake started training with us last week, which is why he's only 'sort-of' new.

I don't usually talk about specific people unless there is something good to say about them. There are plenty of good things to say about Blake, but one of my favorite things about him is that he is courteous. He trains intensely, never complains, helps out at every opportunity, offers constructive criticism, and is just all-around a good guy. Aside from the obvious big things, I most notice the little things that he does. He helps others up from the ground, offers to help put away equipment after class, spends extra time explaining a technique until the other person gets it, and doesn't focus completely on his own training, but also focuses on the training of others.

I'm not sure if you can teach that. I think it must come from somewhere within you; from a desire to serve others. Blake does a good job of that. Martial arts training is more than physical training. It is also a refinement of character and spirit. Sometimes it takes awhile to learn what the black belt code really means. Even though Blake is new to our multi-style hybrid martial arts training, he trains like a black belt...and it's possible to learn that kind of attitude, but I don't think it can be taught by a person. It has to come from experience; from an inner desire to be the best you can be in all the ways you can be.

I have a quote that pertains to excellence taped up on my wall, right next to where I sleep.

It says:

"To excel is to continually perform. Not for a moment or moments. Not for a day or days. But to perform continually, day after day, month after month after month...and to make the uncommon performance look commonplace.

To excel is to take the inner drive of competition and not only to embrace it, but to master it.

It is no wonder then, that when one truly excels, one is known for excellence.

It cannot be taught or legislated or willed into existence. It must come from the very depths of an individual's desire to be the best."

Blake comes to class with that spirit. I see it when I work with him. I see it when he wrestles with Sensei. I see it before class, and even after class when we're all worn out. He has that desire; the same desire I have. We work to better ourselves and to see others become better because of it. We work to know and understand excellence. And...we work to be the best we can be. For the sake of improving and growing. Because we know we can. Because we want that.

But of all the things I like about Blake, my favorite thing about him is that he is courteous. I highly respect him for that.

Inspired

Today was very interesting. We have a new student at our school who is a third degree black belt in Shotokan. The first time I saw him, I thought he was Sensei's friend and that he was here to show us something cool about whatever style he specialized in, but it turns out that he's just someone who heard about our school and who wants to train here. It's exciting! I got the pleasure of working with him on a side-kick drill today and not only is he very, very skilled, but he is also very patient and he trains with a quiet intensity that really inspires me.

To be honest, at first I was kind of intimidated by him because he is SO senior to me. It might take me a few classes to really get used to that. I shouldn't be so freaked out, but Bruce is very intense...and so am I. The problem with that is that sometimes I get so intense that I don't think as clearly as I should. It may take me some time to learn how to calm down a little bit while in his presence. Intensity builds off of itself, but it won't help me at all if I'm not able to keep a clear head.

Anyway, it's always exciting to have new classmates. Every person you work with has something to teach you, whether they're six-years-old and just beginning or whether they're a third degree black belt. I am really looking forward to learning from Bruce. He is a great example of how martial arts is a journey. Bruce is very, very advanced, but he's continuing to study. He's not stopping. He hasn't arrived. He will keep learning and improving, until who knows when.

A lot of advanced students do that. They keep learning and growing. It's not a new concept, but now it is truly impressive to me. I am inspired by Bruce. I can't wait to see how we'll learn from each other.

And I am really, really, REALLY looking forward to class next week!

Teaching is hard!

I'm partially writing this post because I've had this idea in my head for a long time and haven't gotten around to writing it...and partially writing it because I'm not actually attending our last class of the day right now, like I normally do, and I miss it. I have a stomach bug, so I'm at home. I'd like to be there, but stomach problems and training don't go well together. So I figure blogging about martial arts sort of counts as training, even though it's not physical.
At any rate, it makes me feel a little bit better about missing class.

Sensei has been letting me do a lot of teaching lately. It's really fun, but is also really hard sometimes! Last Wednesday during the first class I got to teach the white belts their cat-stance and a few other things like the roundhouse kick and side-kick. I distinctly remember it being very difficult to teach cat-stance because sometimes I get my hands mixed up and I'm not one-hundred percent sure which hand goes in front and which one rests beneath the front elbow¹. 

I've found that if you're teaching a technique, you have to be one-hundred percent sure of how to do it correctly because if you're lost, your students are going to be even more lost than you are. I've also found that it's really easy to start teaching a concept only to find that you're not getting your point across for whatever reason and then to automatically want to move on to something else. Teaching takes a lot of patience. Not only patience for your students, but also patience for yourself, as the teacher.

During the second class, I taught both the white belts and beginners how to do the inside-block, shudo combo. That was also challenging in its own way because our newest student is a middle-aged adult and the other two students in my group were young children. As a teacher, it's difficult sometimes to switch back and forth between pedagogy [Pronounced: PED-uh-go-jee]and andragogy...that is, teaching kids and teaching adults. They're very different. An adult will usually respond well to straightforward, technical, detail-oriented information while a kid will respond better to information when it's delivered in more creative ways...such as being able to relate the movements of a technique to something familiar to the child.

For example, doing a reverse-shudo is like serving a dinner on a silver plate! To do an inside-block, stick your hand in your ear and then bring it across your face. To do a rising-block, make a roof over your head with your arm. Make a windmill-motion with your hands for the Aikido side-step. Both adults and children respond well to those previous associations, but kids respond extremely well to them.


Also, you have to take into account your style of teaching versus the size of the class you have. If you're like me and you enjoy working one-on-one with people, a large class can be kind of difficult to work with. Sensei is a great example of the one-on-one teacher. He likes to make sure that he's teaching each student as thoroughly as possible and does an excellent job doing so. Questions are asked and answered frequently, demonstrations abound, and techniques aren't drilled; they're refined. That said, Sensei is also very good at teaching groups. I remember him telling me once, though, that he prefers each student to get a chance to really work on their skills with him, one-on-one. Our classes are growing large enough that this can be difficult for him by himself, so he often asks Zak and I to help him teach. Hence this post.

Anyway, bottom line is, there are a lot of details that go into teaching that someone on the outside might not notice or even think about. Here's a good one. How do you measure progress? In karate, this is often done with belts and ranks. We have a belt system at the Refinery. It works well in showing where students are at in their technique. But there are other things to measure as well. Attitude is one thing. Improvement is another. Both are part of progress, but it's hard to measure those things. Especially attitude. Not to undermine belts, because I enjoy the physical representation of my progress, but they are not all-telling. Most of the time, a blue or brown belt has developed not only skill, but attitude as well, whereas a yellow belt is still learning those things, but sometimes you find a yellow belt with incredible attitude and swift improvement. Likewise, sometimes you find a blue belt with great skill and technique, but mediocre attitude and little to no improvement.

I'm way ahead of myself, here.

Teaching can be very difficult...but it's also very fun and rewarding. Watching somebody improve and learn has to be one of the coolest things to experience. Also, as the students learn, so does their teacher. That seems to fit in really well with the whole "Martial arts is a journey" theme. We're always learning. Always improving. Even as a teacher.

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1. My excuse for not knowing my cat-stance well enough to teach it was that lately we've been doing much more advanced techniques (most of them involving ground fighting) and I had forgotten the details of cat-stance, since my mind is in Jiu-Jitsu mode most of the time. Still not a good excuse. I'll practice more.

Sensei said

On Wednesday, I had some trouble focusing in class. I'm not sure what was the matter with me; perhaps it was just an off day. I don't have many of those, so I suppose I might have been due for one. Anyway, for whatever reason I was having trouble staying on task...and I couldn't shake it off.

This went on until the end of the first class, which is the class that I usually help Sensei teach because of its size. Afterward, I felt like I was more in the zone. I was sure that I was ready for the 6:30 class.

Well, 6:30 had a lot more people in it than 5:30 did. It kind of threw me for a loop because usually 5:30 is the larger class. Not only were there more people, but there were two complete beginners that required my full attention during striking practice and one slightly more advanced student that I could tell REALLY didn't want to be there.

It was very difficult to get said student to cooperate with me, and since he was working with one of the new students, they kind of fed off of each other and ended up getting very off-task. If I wasn't watching them constantly, they would trip each other and play around, like children do. It could've been dangerous to the other students. I told them this, but they only obeyed when I was watching.

Eventually, I had to help two other students who were having notable trouble with what we were teaching (osoto gari), and leave the other two alone. I hadn't been watching these students because Sensei had been working with them and I had been working with mine. When Sensei moved on to help another pair, I noticed that the older student, whom I could tell also didn't really want to be there, was being unnecessarily rough with the younger one. When I went over and told him to be a little more gentle, he said,

"But Sensei said this is how we're supposed to do it." And then he shoved his hand into the other student's face. I could tell that the younger student didn't know what to do to block the motion, so I told him to put his hand in front of his face so that the older student wouldn't hurt him, but the older student kept on doing it, before the younger student could protect himself.

Again I told him to be gentle and not hurt his partner. I even gave him an alternative. You don't have to push your opponent's face when you're doing osoto gari. You can push their shoulder instead and still sweep them all the same. I suggested this to him and he got very distressed and said,
"But Sensei said this is how you're supposed to do it! And I want to do it how Sensei showed me!"

I didn't know what to do because I'm not Sensei, I'm Becky. When it comes down to it, I'm only a senior student. Sensei has the final say in all techniques and situations. It kind of really hurt me when my classmate wouldn't listen to me because I'm not Sensei, but I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me. He was frustrated and didn't want to be in class, so that didn't help matters, but even so, he should've been more careful and respectful of his classmate.

Since I didn't know what to do, I asked Sensei to work with them and went back to work with my other younger classmates. I'd never been confronted with a situation like that before, where my friend wouldn't listen to me. It upset me, obviously, or I wouldn't be writing about it. It was just an off-day.

Anyway, I think I did the right thing asking Sensei to work with them. I was starting to become frustrated and when that happens, I'm at risk for saying things that are counterproductive and mean. As a senior student, I want to help the little ones, so I want to encourage and build them up as much as I can. It was just an off day, I guess.

I'm sure things will go back to being fine by the next class.

'Ouch' is not a Judo term

If you've studied martial arts at some point in your life, you're probably somewhat familiar with the anecdote that I've titled this entry after. I think that 'Ouch' (as I will now say in reference to the above phrase) is mostly used to try to explain part of having indomitable spirit to students; when you're knocked down, get back up as soon as you can. Martial arts hurts sometimes, and to have indomitable spirit is to push through the pain because even though it hurts, it will eventually make you stronger. I think that this is a good thing to teach, because with it come the lessons of determination, commitment, and patience, along with the perseverance of getting back up time and time again.

But if there's a student in the class like me, who tends to take things a little bit too seriously at times, bad things can happen with this phrase. Although they are usually said with humor, I must admit that I tend to take phrases like 'Ouch' a little too much to heart.

On more than one occasion, I've used 'Ouch' as an excuse to keep going when I've been injured. I suppose some people like to keep going when they're clearly hurt because it gives them an ego boost, but that's not really why I tend to want to continue as normal when it happens to me. The reason I keep going is because I don't want to quit having fun. I love martial arts. I love training. I love almost every part of it (even push-ups and straddle-splits, on occasion). Sitting out  for me is almost like being the one sibling who has to sit in timeout in the car while the rest of the family enjoys the carnival.

But today my sensei said something very wise.
I had accidentally kicked a fellow student too hard in the thigh, triggering a charlie horse, and he (wisely) took a few minutes to rest. Something similar happened to me, later on, as my foot (which I'd injured over the weekend) started to really hurt when I put weight on it. I however, unlike my wise 9-year-old friend, did not take a break.

At the end of class, I received a bit of a reprimand for not taking care of myself when my foot started hurting. Sensei said that it's usually good to keep going, but sometimes when we get injured, it's not easy to just get up like nothing happened. He said, "Sometimes it's a good idea to get the hurt out, and then get back up. I don't want you to push through it and not rest, thinking you'll be fine if you just ignore it. Get the hurt out first and really make sure that you're okay before you continue training. We don't want a little problem to turn into a big one."

Very wise words. I needed to hear them.

It's so easy to get caught up in the 'I'm-a-martial artist-and-I-have-indomitable-spirit-and-therefore-I-am-invincible' mentality. Nobody is invincible; it's really easy to get seriously injured while training. Being careful is important; more important than being the most 'advanced' student; more important than being 'tough'; more important than having fun, even. After all, if you seriously injure yourself while training, you have to stop training! That would be like an endless time-out session for me. Not desirable at all.

But my favorite thing that Sensei said was, 'Get the hurt out, first'. It sometimes seems like (in martial arts and in life) we're pressured to hide our pain; to keep fighting; to continue to 'push through' serious pain by ignoring it or pushing it away altogether. We say, "Well, maybe if I pretend it's not there, it won't be. And then I can get on with more important things like training and being happy and having fun."

That's just like ignoring a broken arm. Or a foot injury. If I 'push through it' and keep fighting without stopping to assess the damage, my small problem can quickly turn into something serious that could put me out for months, maybe. I now have to deal with a big problem that could've been avoided if I'd simply listened to and respected my body (or mind) in the first place.
Tonight was another night for learning. There seem to be a few lessons that keep popping up during my training. They are:

• Tap when it hurts (or, know when to stop before you're seriously injured)
• Don't take things too seriously
• Take care of yourself (specifically, don't ignore a problem and expect it to just go away. Acknowledge it and react appropriately)

All three are important lessons that can be applied to pretty much anything in life...like most lessons learned on the mat.
I'm gonna close out this entry a little bit differently than usual. I found a video called, "The Top 10 Worst Freak Injuries in MMA". In some of the footage shown here, the fighters continued fighting through their injuries, but all of the matches were called off as soon as a medical problem was identified.

Martial Arts Refinery

I think that an interesting way to look at martial arts would be to think of it as a teacher. I once read a book that talked about personal 'master teachers', which were described as more esoteric and intangible things, such as emotions, id, and ego, but seriously, if you think about it, martial arts can also be thought of as a teacher.

Every time I step on the mat, I learn something. First I learn the obvious things that everybody else can see, such as kicks, throws, kata, and whatnot, but I also always learn something about myself, as well. Not everybody can see what I learn about myself, but I can see it, and I make it a priority to take those lessons and apply them to my life.

There's something about my martial arts journey, though, that I find sort of amusing, and that's my semi-obsessive want to know for sure that I've become a martial artist and not someone who just does martial arts. It's funny because I have this nagging feeling that, like with music, there is never a given point where one becomes a martial artist.

But see, that's not because martial arts doesn't change you. The name of our school is 'Martial Arts Refinery' and I used to think that the reason it's called 'Refinery' is because, as a martial artist, you are constantly refining your technique. There is no set destination; there is always something to learn and improve.

It's interesting that now I'm discovering that it's the other way around; martial arts refines you, too. It's an interesting relationship, though, because martial arts only teaches you what you want to know. Yes, it shows you everything about yourself; there are no secrets...but it never forces. Never pushes. You are the one who pushes. And why do you push? Because after a while, you realize that not pushing wouldn't be fair to yourself. That by not pushing, you are holding yourself back. Stunting your growth. It took me about five minutes to learn that on the mat, but it's taken me eighteen years to learn to start applying it to situations in my own life.

Anyway, I rambled. The reason that my semi-obsession with wanting to know when I've officially become a martial artist is funny is because it's an endless uphill climb. I find myself saying, "Okay, I got ___ belt, I must be a martial artist now!" and then something great happens and I learn something really great, that tops that achievement and I say, "Never mind, that doesn't make me a martial artist, this does." It's a great and wonderful up-cycle that, I think, never ends. Because the learning never ends. I will always learn something new and then I'll be forced to say it again: "Okay, now I'm a martial artist..."

It's as if I'll never be a martial artist, but I will always be one, at the same time.

Also, martial arts doesn't ask anything in return. There's nothing for it to gain from my learning, but there is infinite wisdom for me to gain through learning, refining, and being refined by it.

Anyway, I'm really glad that I'm doing it. Even if it scares me sometimes with its honesty and straightforwardness. Even when I have to say, 'next time, I'll be better'. The fact that I can say that at all is a teaching victory in and of itself.