"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'.