"Fix it...you're a Black Belt now."

I have learned basic motion. I have learned the tricks to some techniques that enable me to do them with ease. I have practiced them for three years. But now, when I do them, I hear, "What are you doing?" To which I reply, "What I learned." This results in, "But you're a Black Belt now." WTF?!

The curriculum is set to teach a simple amount of techniques as a student progresses. At Black Belt, all that is required is to do the current techniques with more precision and weapons techniques are included. But I have yet to find out what is expected to be seen of me at this stage of the game. When I have concerns, I am simply told to come to the next class...okay. So, I come to the next class. I continue to do what I have been learning to do...only to be told, "No, no. You're a Black Belt now, you're suppose to do it like this." "I'm sorry, I must not have gotten that memo."

I am not going to ask for some Black Belt to take me under his or her wing because I am tired of getting the stink-eye, the stare, a shrug of the shoulders or, my favorite and yours, "Come to the next class". Coming to the next class isn't the problem. Wanting not to look like a bag-of-ass while doing my techniques and understanding what a 1st Dan should look like is what I would like to know. The basic movements that current 1st Dans can do...I can't not do. Its humiliating and embarrassing to not be able to perform on par with the others that hold the same rank as myself. I am truly at a loss of what I should do.

Scars That Don't Heal

I should have weaved but instead I bobbed. I was too busy trying to avoid a punch and managed to time meeting my left cheek with a 4th Dan's quick jab. I got a pretty good "Shine-ah" (insert Audrey's voice from The Little Shop of Horrors)
At first, I was rather proud of surviving it without passing out or crying. (Misting-up doesn't count!!) But on the drive home, I kept asking myself why was I considering this a 'badge of honor' or a 'battle scar'? The punch stunned me. Time stopped at the initial sting and spinning behind my eyelids. I had never been hit in that manner and knew that if that punch had been full force, I probably wouldn't have stayed conscious, muchless on my feet. ...so why was I so proud?...

In 2001, I worked in a sports bar in Oklahoma. I started as a waitress and soon moved up to multiple positions within the establishment. A lady started working there shortly after me. She began as a waitress but a few weeks later became the assistant manager. (It was a small dive place with extrememly high turnover). She was a very nice woman. A bit stout in stature...not a waif by any means. She would be considered of the 'big-boned' variety. She was married with two kids. She was separated at the time and lived in the same apartment complex as myself. She was nice enough to invite me into her home for a visit.
Being just a waitress, I wasn't privvy to the work schedule of the managers, but I had noticed that she didn't show up on her usual day. I remember seeing her at work the following day. I assumed she had been ill, as she appeared pale, puffy eyes and lack of expression on her face. But there was something else. When she turned to address someone, she had to turn her whole body...her neck was stiff. I asked her if she was okay and she proceeded to tell me what had happened the day before. Her husband had come over to the apartment and beat her in front of her kids. My heart sank and a fire immediatly burned in my belly.
She didn't go to the hospital due to lack of funds and no insurance. She came to work because she couldn't afford to miss a day's pay. She came to work with a terrible concussion. I offered for her and her kids to stay with me until they could find a way to disappear, but she just smiled and said no.
She let him move into the apartment with her and the kids..to keep the peace, or rather to prevent the death threats. He still beat her...

In the first couple of years of my HapKiDo training, I was on fire to tell people this new thing I had found and that they should try it out. I was especially motivated to tell women. I realize now that I had sought out those that either looked like they could handle the classes or that looked like they could use the classes to build their self-esteem. I recruited about four women. They all stayed for a time, but eventually left for various reasons. I was disappointed...and slightly bitter. Today, as I stood in my bathroom, looking in the mirror, I realized I wasn't trying to help those women. I was trying to help the one woman who didn't want my help. I was so angry at her for not fighting back, for not trying to find a better way. I wanted to fight for her and she wouldn't let me. I have been very lucky to have never been in such a situation. I couldn't fathom the horror.

I no longer look at the bruise on my cheek as a badge of honor. Its just a bruise. It will heal and I'll forget about it when its gone. But, the scar I have carried on my heart for eight years has yet to heal. I can't forget that woman I knew in Oklahoma. I never saw her after I changed jobs. Don't know if she is even alive today. If she is, I'd like her to know that someone in this world would still help her fight if she didn't feel strong enough.

Death Wakes Me...

Death wakes me up everyday. He is there when my alarm clock sounds in the dark hours before dawn, greeting me as I fumble through the mental rolodex of 'what's that noise?...what day is it?' He answers, "Your alarm is going off...its Wednesday." (Each day has a new agenda..the routines vary) 'Ahhh, Crossfit.' Death lingers in my bedroom long enough to see if I will stay in bed or get up.

Everyday, Death lurks in and out of my space ...stopping by to check on my state-of-mind and how I am dealing with the events I have no control over. Sometimes we have long conversations of current events, other people, my hair...for the most part, he doesn't remain for very long. There are times; however, when I get a flare up of misery. (It appears like dry, scaly skin that can catch lint from clothing.) Misery may catch itself on Death's drapery, allowing bits of him to remain with me for a short time...or days to weeks. The only thing that can keep Misery from recurring is to rehydrate myself with things that Misery is unable to sustain. The Crossfit and all its powerful movements helps to shake off the remininsce of Death's lint. Misery can't hold-on very well and it sure can't keep up with me on a run. And, in a rather surprising manner, Misery doesn't like pain. It actually steers clear from it.
I learned early on that HapKiDo was like a drug. The body's adaptation to continuous jolts of pain actually diminished the groggy, sedative feeling that Misery produced. When I would feel depressed with the weight of Misery on my shoulders, I would intentionally look for a HapKiDo player that was excellent at invoking pain-compliance on his partner. Those moments were non-religious exorcisims. (Before my 1st Dan test, Misery clung to my side. She knew that I couldn't run forever with my questionable joints. She knew that Crossfit wouldn't last forever too. She also knew that HapKiDo was of a different matter. It came from a history of powerful influences that couldn't be bound, muchless support her.)
Death doesn't come into the Dojang. He stays outside. Every once in a while, I'll see him standing outside, watching. He's not there to collect, he's there like a proud father. He knows I find his presence encouraging, not defeating. He won't come to collect as long as I have purpose. Right now, my purpose is to teach those junior to me in HapKiDo. When I run out of purposes for living, then, he will arrive...and I will be ready.

Death is something I think about often. It is written in the Bible that a wise person acknowledges death. I am on the path to wisdom with each day that I live.

And now, if you will excuse me...I have Open Class at the Dojang!

Dec 7...Kum Hyung

The cool thing about finally achieving a Black Belt is once again I can enable the part of my brain that controls the memory...visual, physical and muscle. The good Nurse showed up at the Dojang and immediately expressed enthusiasm to teach us (new first dans) the sword form - Kum Hyung.

I haven't felt that invigorated and enthused for a while. I am no saying that I didn't enjoy HKD in my past, but I had hit an invariable large wall that lasted for months, and it may very well have been for the reason of my not learning something new.

Tonight is my first night at Beginner's Class as a 1st Dan. Hopefully, I give them a good workout...should I be called to do so.

More on the actual test, and my unusual knack of 'first hour intimidation'.

Had a bad day, yesterday. Might have to get my resume updated... My Hopes for the Christmas Holiday evaporated...

No running this morning. Slept in. My complexion is good, despite feeling slightly sluggish. Luckily, there is crossfit Wed and Fri morning.

There is one more class of HKD for the week. Next time will be the week of the test.
...and off to work I go...

Day ??? of the rest of my life..yadda,yadda, yaddda...

One month away from my 35th. It feel decadent, for some reason. The last time I felt this way, I was turning 30 and feeling defiant...and I signed up to run the Chicago Marathon. Almost five years later, I have run three and half marathons, started HapKiDo (which I will be getting my Black Belt in two weeks) and started Crossfitting. On the flip side, I am one year in my pursuit of an Applied Associates Degree. It WAS in Accounting, but I have since changed to Medical Office..(its never too late to change) Busy, Busy, Busy...

But, I still feel like something is coming down the pike...just have to wait and see.

Today's song: Unanswered Prayers by Garth Brooks
Today's pick: Wear something that creates a theme for your day...though, I would refrain from wearing that shit-eating grin. :)

Hill Art

I ran the hills this morning. The art of running is like no other. It is just you and the road. There is no 'go-to' man with a open lane to throw the ball to...there is no left guard tackling the wall that blocks your path to the end zone. It is all you. and your thoughts...
Running is all mine. I don't have to share it with anyone. There is enjoyment in the push to reach the top of the hill. I don't understand why people hate hills. Hills are a test of your grit...your mettle.
I'm hitting a hill in my life. I have just reached the start of the incline, I can feel...

Giving with expectations will leave you disappointed.

"...the Ungrateful Bastard!" said my frustrated co-worker to her peers during a break. "I made sure he was taken care of mentally as well as physically and he can't even give me an ounce of respect, thanks...or show me love?! He only calls me when he wants some money."
"Well," said the male co-worker, "that's your fault. If you did all those things with the expectation of getting something back, you did them for the wrong reasons." Her answer was silence.

I sat across the room, listening to the exchange. I have come to learn that when you give expecting to get, disappointment is sure to be what is received. Conditions are conjured up as to how the 'gift' should be received. Scenarios are mentally rehearsed and choreographed and should be abided. At the moment of truth, expectations are fulfilled and you are left feeling betrayed when in reality, you never offered a gift...you offered a non-negotiable deal.

Interestingly, I found a parallel in my Martial Art training. I willful offered my time and enthusiasm to learning HapKiDo for the past two years. I devoted myself to the learning and planned my life's schedule around it. Of late, I found myself disenchanted and non-plussed at the idea of receiving a black belt at the end of the year. I did not feel ready. I did not feel that I have grasped the techniques boldly and consistently enough to confidently say "I am a Black Belt." I gave expecting to get. Although I knew being a Black Belt meant that NOW I was ready to learn HapKiDo and that I would be considered a 'student'; I expected to demonstrate everything I had learned with little to no mistakes. I simply could not get past this condition I had set forth in my own head.

I spoke with a colleague about the matter and in a roundabout way, I expressed my feelings about the approaching test. "You're looking at it all wrong," he said matter-of-factly. "Imagine you're a painter. You see the different colours and hues and the separate strokes you perform to make the painting. Now, imagine yourself as the art lover, who is in the gallery standing before the finished work of art. Yes, the different colors can be seen and the thousands of strokes used to create the forms...but they are all seen collectively as one picture...and it works. The picture is conveyed through the individual parts that result in the whole." I sat there hearing his words, but not necessarily relating them to my training. "At yellow belt, each movement is broken down into sub-steps. Then, at orange, the steps are combined to flow. Now, at Red belt, you've surpassed the sub-steps and steps, your "parts" are now within the "whole". (I literally felt the clouds part in my mind.) And to think...this was coming from one of my orange belts...

I had two ephiphanies today: First, giving of myself to the training should be purely for the enjoyment. The natural development of consistent practice and the absolute joy that is felt when performing the techniques and teaching will be automatic. Second, stepping back to see the whole picture gave me better insight of who I am as well as how far I have come in my training...and my life.
Thanks Eddie!

Cooking in the Dojang

I was listening to the audio version of Julia Child's book titled, "My Life in France". She was intriguing and inspiring, not only for her fearlessness with which she immersed herself in foreign cultures but also how she always found a way to look at the glass 'half-full'.

Over two years ago, I started taking HapKiDo. I wanted to be active and get some exercise and I needed something that had finite goals. Martial Arts seemed to be the best way to do both. I had managed to take to HapKiDo like a tiger in the jungle. It felt comfortable and natural. Now, just under the three year mark, I am approaching my Black Belt test..which is not really a test as it was given at Red Belt. This, however, did not make me feel any better. I wasn't excited and I didn't want to take the test. I didn't even know if I had wanted to continue HapKiDo. I felt as though I should have grasped the concepts and terminology AND the techniques with a firm understanding and perform in a consistent, stellar manner. I was not happy with my inability to act or react naturally and fluidly. This is not the way a Black Belt should look.

As I listened to the last of the 4 CD audio book, Julia imbibed her wisdoms and anecdotes throughout the chapters. "Never Apologize", she stated in reference to a mistake made in the kitchen. If it can't be fixed on the spot, chalk it up as a learning experience, and move on. She had worked on her project for a French Cookbook for the American Cook for approximately 10 years when she was told they wouldn't publish it because it was too detailed and overwhelming. She was saddened at the news, but said she was not filled with self-pity. She was proud of what she had accomplished and the work she did, because she loved what she did. Finally, it was time for her to give up her home that she and her husband had come to love and share with family and friends. She claimed that she didn't feel sad that they were losing the place because when an time/event had run its course, she simply moved on without regret or sorrow.

I see now that my time as Red Belt is fast approaching it final months. And, through all the moments that were spent training, and those that weren't; I must realize that those moments no longer exist but in my mind. They are lodged adjacent to the mistakes. Intangible and fading. As worked up as I had gotten about making a mistake during the 'test' or not performing to a standard that I conjured up in my mind, I realize that I could and can be proud of myself for my accomplishments. I don't need the Black Belt to validate what I know or the many months I sweated in the dojang.

I did not think that Julia's life experiences would parallel my own. Nor did I think that she would be the words of wisdom in my ears that were the 'a-ha' moment for me and my lulled HapKiDo pursuit.

Julia worked incessantly and with fervor when it came to cooking and dissecting the minute details of French cooking to please her inquistive nature of food. She enjoyed and loved it..before the book deals and t.v. shows. I hope I can be as true to myself and the love of HapKiDo as Julia was to her passion: a French Chef from Pasedena, California!!

Tis better to have lived, than exist unhappy and old...

A week ago today, I participated in the Fight Gone Bad. A gruesome workout that left me with the realization that if I ever got into a fight, I would have, at least, 30 good seconds...maybe a minute before I passed out from lack of oxygen and adrenaline excess. I was sore for a few days, but back at it again by Wednesday. I left the gym feeling not my well-earned 34 years, but younger. I don't feel old. I feel 'lived'.