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This is about judo and its influence in my life. |
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As the judo belt test date approached, I experienced more and more anxiety. I fought with myself to stay strong. My body knew what to do, but my mind would not be silent. The worries and doubts overwhelmed me, making me think that I was not ready for my next belt - the green belt. I could not visualize myself with a green belt. What was I thinking? Was there some special feeling that I was supposed to have about testing for green belt? My own thoughts raged in negative color. Was it fear? Was I afraid that I could not do it? Was I afraid of new, increased responsibility? Where was my confidence and courage? Where was my energy? Does everyone have this problem? If they do, they sure never show it! What do I do? What if I do get my green belt? What, then? If you ask senior ranks about belt promotions, most of them will tell you that you are the best judge of whether or not you are ready, saying "You'll know when you're ready." Great. At first glance, this response seems too simple and somewhat passive, not to mention surprising. After all, if you are asking someone else whether or not you are ready for a belt promotion and they give that answer, your immediate thought may be along the lines of, "I don't know - that's why I asked you!" So how do you know? Everyone has different signs that guide them through growth in the dojo. Maybe it is a newly-perfected throw. It could be better control, both mentally and physically. Perhaps it is based on time-in-grade or the recommendation of your sensei. You may have fought especially well during the last tournament. So many things contribute to growth that this list is surely incomplete. The experience that indicated to me that I was ready for promotion to green belt was one of teaching. There were nine or ten white belts (brand new to judo) joining us only two classes before the belt test. Each of the higher ranking belts ended up having a white belt for a partner. We bowed in preparation. Then it hit me, almost crushing me, that I was in the position of teaching this brand new member of our martial arts family how to perform the various techniques of judo. I managed to hide my panic as my thoughts raced and the self-doubt mounted. My primary thought was that, "I can't do this. I always ask somebody else what to do - I can't do this myself, much less show anyone else how to do it!" Pins went alright. Take-downs were not so bad. I practiced the five chokes that I needed for promotion. At last, we came to throws. I could no longer watch what everyone else was doing and copy them. I could not ask the higher belt what to do because I was the higher belt. To top it off, this white belt was looking to me to learn what to do! The first throw was called. I took my position, demonstrating the stance. I so overthought the next movement that I just stood there for a long moment. Then I decided to just do it. I demonstrated what my body remembered and then told my partner to try it out. This was the ultimate test - could someone else learn from me. Though slow and uncertain, the white belt executed the movement almost perfectly. All of a sudden, a wave of revelation washed over me. I was now a teacher. I had now grown into a position of demonstrating the basics without anyone else's assistance. I had enough experience that I could pass the discipline on. I was now ready for promotion to green belt. Next step, the belt test. I sat down, stretching on the mat, trying to calm my anxiety. Then I saw her. "Toe-Breaker". This is the name I had settled on in my own mind to describe this person and my overt caution in engaging her in any way physically. After all, she did break my toe two promotion tests ago. I was sidelined out of judo for six weeks. I stopped stretching abruptly. Somehow I knew that I was going to end up partnered with her for the test. And I was right. One thing that I appreciated about her, despite all of the reasons not to like her, was that she could not hide how she felt about me. She sneered at me with a look of disgust when her friend pointed out that we were going to be partners. Again. At least she was honest. I tried to set aside my personal distaste and bad thoughts about her in the name of reaching a new level of maturity in the true spirit of judo. We both managed to make each other look good for the kata, the pins, the take-downs, the chokes, the armbars, and the throws. It came time for shiai - competition. My goal lately has been to loosen up and not waste so much energy trying to muscle the opponent into the throw. To combat my own rigidity, I have adopted the practice of hopping around, up and down and sideways, much like a boxer. You would be amazed at how unnerving that is to your opponent, too, by the way. The referee called out. "Hajime!" The match began. We parried back and forth, each trying to get a good grip. Then it happened. Completely by accident, I managed to get an ideal hold on her, and, at the right moment, threw her with technique later described to me as "almost perfect". I was rather pleased with that. Keeping my focus on staying loose had worked! Upon standing up, though, I realized that I had broken another toe. The adrenaline was still flowing, keeping the pain at bay, and I took my position across the mat from her. I had performed well, and was proud of that. I knew what that meant for Toe-Breaker's next actions as well. Another thing that was described to me later in detail was her look of shock when I threw her and won the match. A match only 17 seconds long... The test was more significant than I had anticipated. I thought that I had already passed it with that small measure of teaching experience I had gained. Not so. The referee declared me the winner. Wild applause and cheers were abundant and steady. I bowed with respect, as is the custom preceding and following a match. Toe-Breaker refused to bow. She had displayed this same poor behavior at the previous belt test that I was partnered with her for. A deep silence set in immediately. All eyes were on us. How do I react? What do I do now? I was angry with her for putting both me and her in this difficult situation. For a second time, no less. Thanks a lot, Toe-Breaker. I bowed again. She rolled her eyes, again refusing to bow. Her words to me at the beginning of the belt test echoed in my ears. "Make me look good." It took every ounce of self-control I could muster to step forward and offer a handshake, remembering the first time I was introduced to her. At that time, she informed me without even knowing my name that I, "didn't shake hands with enough humility." The memory was so clear in my head that I was almost reliving it. I stood there with my hand out. Waiting. Finally, with a dirty look from the ref, she shook my hand ever so slightly in that dead fish sort of way and walked off the mat. At least she did not turn her back on me, which is one of the ultimate insults in judo. And then I realized that this was what Sensei was talking about when he talked to us about the "mental part", the mental test. The word "jungdo", which means right seeing, right hearing, right speaking, and right doing, pulsed in the front of my mind. This is what he was talking about. His words came fast from my memory. "No anger. All forgive. Then you improve. Always smiling. Compare only one - only yourself." I could not control her, but I could control myself. I could let go of the anger. I could release her from the label of "Toe-Breaker". I could grow, even though her growth had been stunted by her actions. Humility swept over me. I had to take care of my end of the problem. The remainder of the belt test was punctuated by me landing on my head during my third match. I had rattled my sense of balance and could not figure out which way was up. The incident was my own fault for being distracted with someone else's behavior. Again, more growth. I have been extremely proud of every belt and stripe that I have earned, but green belt is a level that I never really believed I could acheive. Often, I would think to myself that I would never be able to do this on my own, that I would never have enough things go right that I could achieve the rank of green belt. This new rank is a miracle for me, and an intense statement to me about the mental aspect of the discipline. I now understand what Sensei says all the time. He reminds us daily that, "This test is the mental part. Discipline. This is the mental part. You make mistakes, it's okay. You only, in the whole world, compare only one - only yourself. Then you improve." Thank you, Sensei. |
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#37. No Hobbling Aloud...Just the Squeak of My Knee Brace Hinges!
ID #699812 entered on June 21, 2010 at 11:25pm |
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