Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Dojokun

Through discipline, strength and humility
I will strive to bring out the best in myself and others.
I will use common sense before self-defense
and never be abusive or offensive.
I will strive to have patience, kindness, gentleness and self-control.


Everyone says this meditation together after practice.  From my spot at the end of the line where everyone begins I have a clear view of my fellow students, all in a row, perfectly parallel to one another.  Sweaty and satisfied, the moment is peaceful.  No one is sore yet, we are all out of breath.  None of us is in a rush to move on to the rest of the evening--we have not been dismissed yet.  The feeling is connected and good.

My muscles are telling me that I've done a great job, and they're thankful to have been activated.  My joints have little to say on the matter, but I have done my best to protect them, minding my range of motion and stopping when necessary.  My head is clear and I am still hydrated because I took lots of breaks to make sure such was the case.

Sensei had us go back and forth across the dojo practicing different drills.  He worked us hard because the Thanksgiving holiday imposed a long weekend on the class's routine.  By the end of class I could feel the sweat dripping from my hair to my shoulders: it's raining me!, I thought.  A fellow student stayed late and taught me the three basic blocks.  I taught her the physiology of muscle activation, lactic acid, and the Krebs cycle; and about the golgi tendon organ's involvement in stretch reflex.  Fair trade, I think.  The social interaction was fun, and I enjoyed sharing my world with someone else, who in turn shared theirs with me.

Hearing impairment brings with physical activity a whole extra sense of urgency to keep up with the class.  I can't hear what's going on, and suddenly everyone is moving into a formation that I don't understand.  Reading lips is hard enough when a person is right in front of me.  I simply haven't figured out how to read in the mirror while watching the demonstration at the same time.  Then, in zero time, I have to process what I've heard, convert it into my own sense of what to do with my body--and by the time I get to this point I've lost 90% of what was said.  But I'm here to have fun, and it's fun!  I laugh, ask for help, smile, and have a good time.  Something inside me knows I won't be left behind for any reason.  That's everything to me, meaningful, more important than hearing and parroting.

I'm tired, happy, throbbing, wound up, and grinning from ear to ear.  This is going to ache for days, but it will be healthy muscle pain and not joint pain.  This is real accomplishment, and I've missed real accomplishment.

Be well.

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