He must know how it feels to sit out and watch other people have fun because Sensei never lets me feel left out when I am benched from pain or fatigue. After spending the weekend in bed with no energy and wicked pain I was determined to make it through a workday and get to the dojo. I made it, but the pain was still high, and Sensei directed me to stay and observe from the bench this class. The way he makes decisions on how I can learn successfully is so careful and full of regard that I never feel alone or excluded by his direction. Rather, I feel that his decisions are deliberate and that there is good reason.
It was nearly impossible to stay on the bench, it's just too painful to sit up. For the time I could endure it I enjoyed watching fellow karateka warm up and practice. Everything looks different from the bench, I can see everybody working individually to improve, but helping out the people nearby, too. We are all watching to see if our classmates are doing okay. There is a purity about the dojo in the way we watch out for one another, and it feels *really* good to be a part of that, to use the word "we.'
I got to see the moves of some people whom I never really get to observe, and I learn a lot by watching the movements of people who are not hypermobile. I see where everyone stops, where feet and knees go, how heads move and do not move. The lines are straighter in some places and movements are more relaxed in others. Every gi fits differently and belts sit higher on some people than others. Most notably, Sensei's eyes are everywhere. In fact, so is the rest of his body. He literally watches every single student. I don't know how he does it, and I got a taste of that effort tonight.
During the day I work as a rehabilitation technologist. I also write accessible curricula and teach. Teaching is not my favourite thing to do but by some grace I have a knack for it. Something in me wholly believes that people can become ever-better, and that we all have a responsibility to help one another improve. When I started karate (a year ago, this coming Wednesday!) I relied heavily on the instruction of my Sensei, on an obsessive amount of my own research, and from other karateka who had been practicing for longer. They showed me blocks and strikes, stances, breathing, angles, all kinds of great stuff, and I was grateful. Sensei helped me put it all together and adapt where I needed to.
On night like this when I'm hurting too much I also ache in my heart because I would rather be doing karate. If it meant no more pain I would train in karate all day and night, every day. So even though I learn a lot from the bench I would have preferred to have been in class, as anyone would have. But I am grateful to have gotten out of the house before cabin fever set in, so I thought of the bench as one step closer to being back in action, and I wasn't giving that up! It's a good thing I didn't, because another very special thing happened tonight.
"Get in here, you can do this," Sensei said. He pointed out two fairly new students and told me to work with them in the back of the dojo on geki sai dai ichi, our first kata in the curriculum. He was right! I couldn't sit for long, so I would be standing. I couldn't practice full-throttle, but I could move enough to demonstrate! He found possibility in what I could do, and created an opportunity for me to do it! I had a blast teaching those two karateka, and they were better when we finished!
There's an old saying: "Those who can, do, and those who can't, teach." Teaching is something I can very well do, and tonight it felt better to teach than it ever has in my life. When I'm sick or weak I feel useless. It's a torrent of sadness and anger, frustration and loneliness. But to take just a little bit of movement that I had and make it helpful for somebody else was awfully special. I remember now that I need to maximize what I am capable of doing, to help others, as I am helped up by others.
Since this is my own experience, I'm going to add this personal note because it is heavy on my heart all the same: I wish my wife had stuck around to have seen this. My heart still aches so deeply for her after six months that I have relied on karate for life support. But I wish she were here, and that she hadn't given up on me. It's a true grace that my dojo has been there for me. It felt good to give back, to not feel worthless after having been left behind. The disposition in my fellow students' faces became so much more confident by the time we finished that I was quite satisfied with my effort, and it was worth the extra pain I'm going through now because I got a little excited and practiced a bit more than I should have. :)
Be well.
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