Friday, October 28, 2016

On Throwing And Knowing Where You Land

Practicing karate at my dojo lifts me up to the moon and then reminds me that it's just my head in the moon and I've got to keep working if I ever want to set foot up there.

Sensei showed me how to do hari uke in Seiyunchin. Anatomically and physiologically speaking it makes perfect sense. Certain joints create stability in a closed-pack position, and other joints stay wide open to allow the throw to take place. It was the first time I saw in myself the ability to do a throw without putting myself in the hospital. It all made perfect sense physiologically speaking and for about three days I was King of the World.

A Judoka with EDS is skilled in throws and in being thrown. She prefers to do grappling and groundwork because there is no fall risk, and when she is on the ground she always knows where her bones are in relation to the floor. Knowing where one's body is in space is called proprioception. Proprioception is responsible for helping us stay upright and not bump into things. In EDS, proprioception is impaired.

We can train around impaired proprioception, to learn how to move safely. But it takes training : learn how to stay calm when you can't tell if you're conscious. You haven't been able to feel your legs for two days and now your visual field is gone because you're about to black out. Do you sit down on the floor so you don't fall, or do you bend your knees, keep your eyes open, and breathe gently? Every situation is different, it is not possible to make a hard-and-fast plan. This can lead to hypervigilance, and anxiety about having to be always ready to adapt, which leads to exhaustion.

At my dojo we have many medically trained and military trained karateka, so nobody flips out when I go down. They help me off the floor, check in, ask what I need, and make sure I can get home. That helps me  tremendously to stay calm because I know I will be cared for if anything does happen. Fortunately, after four years, I have not had to go to the hospital once due to karate. I'm sure that's part of the attraction to being in the dojo. Catastrophic things don't happen in the dojo, and if they did, they would be dealt with in rational and productive ways.

Everybody is working hard at something. The debilitating limitations of EDS is something I'm working hard to fight. They get that. I wish I could return the favour, maybe some day I will.

The moon can stay up in the sky, I'm happy with my dojo.

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