Because of karate

It has only been a couple of weeks, and already I am changing.

Because of karate:
I sleep better.
I focus on my objectives better.
I smile more.
My proprioception has improved.
I think a movement through from beginning to end before carrying it out, and more successfully.
I have more self-respect.
I process my thoughts and experiences kinesthetically, and this, more completely.
I take pride in my gi.
I enjoy the company of my fellow karateka.
I grow by helping the people with whom I am working to be successful.
I feel welcome at the dojo.
I feel that my dedication is appreciated.
I laugh harder.
I work more methodically.

Right now it is easy to go on because my excitement is stronger than my doubts. But I have doubted myself in class, and simply tapped out, receiving no questions and no disrespect. Nobody judges me. Instead, I am surrounded by people who want to be a part of my being successful, in my own way, as much as I want the same for them.

Do you, dear reader, understand what this means? It means the same thing as a parent who horses around with their child, with a teacher who challenges a student to work harder. It means I am safe, the dojo is safe, and the people around me are safe.

Our dojokun means everything to me. I pinned it up at work on my desk and use it for brief zazen throughout the day. I also do kata each day. It gives me a break.  When I do karate, I'm not thinking about anything else.

Even when I can't safely do something I find a safer alternative that activates the same muscles, if I can.

Tonight we did some grappling with the head in yoi and footwork. I learned that I can do much more than I or anyone expected. I attribute this to the very controlled and narrow range of motion in goju ryu karate style. Everyone I work with is understanding. I think not everyone enjoys working with me because I have so many special needs, but I think it's good practice for them to have to modify the programmes to which they are accustomed.

Sensei watches out for me with every new task. I always have an opportunity to try, and instead of no, he says to be careful. He gives me a choice and that is all I ask. I will not make the right choice all the time, nobody does! I am okay with that. I don't feel singled out when he does this by calling across the dojo. I don't feel embarrassed, diminished, or prohibited. I feel protected, respected, and included, because my Sensei wants to see me grow better and stronger, and seems to understand that treating me as delicate is not helpful. I spend the rest of my day feeling like a porcelain doll. I need a place to go where I will be allowed to take a kick to the head in good company. The solution was not to bar me from the exercise, but to correct what got me injured. I'm going to be sore tomorrow but I will be happy, and you can bet your bottom dollar that I learned a lesson!

After class I go right to my fluids. It takes a few minutes to get set up but nobody worries or watches. Everybody is always doing something at the dojo, nobody has time to judge or criticize. The is only time for work, laughter, kindness, and learning.

Everybody knows my health is crap, and yet everyone assumes my intelligence and strength are otherwise equal, which is true.  That's perfect. That never happens. Granted, they have never seen me on a bad day. But when they do, I will still be lifted up, still be expected to do my best. That is what they will draw out of me, that is what they will get.

Is it really that great? Can such a place really exist? My physiotherapist said, years ago, "I want you to know that there are good people in this world." I have earnestly sought those good people since that day. My PT is always right. My dojo is the jackpot!