EDS Kata Development

I'm thinking about developing kata series for hypermobile and Dysautonomia people once I get to shodan level (black belt). I couldn't do any such thing before then, out of respect to the practice and to safety itself. But it would be interesting.

I believe you're not even authorized to be a Sensei until you achieve at least Yon-dan level, fourth degree black belt, in Goju Ryu. I could be wrong.

The purpose of the kata would be to do as much damage as possible with the upper body, while posturing the lower body such that it would have as few dislocations as possible, such that one could run away. Kicks may push more force through an opponent but the risk of dislocation and landing improperly is high.

One thing I treasure about the Goju Ryu style is that one of its tenets is to close in on the opponent. This significantly reduces dislocation risk. It works, too! When I don't close in properly I can guarantee myself a stupid mistake and two to four weeks of physiotherapy, followed by six months of reconditioning. It doesn't take much. But for what karate has given me, it's worth it. I walk better, fall better, carry bags better, so much is better. The pain is not better. But I'm stronger and smarter about handling the pain, more aware, and more focused.

Advanced kata could involve fighting from a chair, using splints as weapons, and with other mobility aids. We'll see.

Couch to 5 Kata

I've been a blue belt for quite some time now, and I'm quite comfortable here.  This is the last belt in the first half of the belt series of Goju Ryu karate-do.  That means once I level up, things get real.  I know five kata sequences now: Gekisai Dai Ichi, Gekisai Dai Ni, Saifa, Sanchin, and Seiyunchin.  I know a lot of the bunkai (applications), I've got some randori (light sparring) under my belt, and a few blue ribbons from shiai (tournaments).  Most importantly, I've got a strong physical and emotional bond to my karate family.  They are an integral part of my existence, people for whom I pray and cry, cheer, and celebrate.  When they level up, I get so excited to have been a part of their progress that I feel proud of myself, too.  There are people who started well before me and well after me, leveling up around me.  When I finally do level up I know I will have truly earned it, and it won't just be for attendance.

Some people don't like using a belt system, but it helps me feel safe.  When higher belts know I'm just a lower kyu-belt, they will be more careful. When white belts know I'm above them, they may be braver, and worry less about my port or about the syringe of anti-emitic drugs sticking out from where I have it tucked into my bra strap, in a place that I can guard fairly well now.  Belt systems give us opportunities to celebrate the milestones, to cheer one another on, to urge ourselves to keep moving forward, to understand where we are in the curriculum, and so on.  I like it.

For a few days I've been stuck on the couch during what one of my best friends calls "Shark Week," a monthly uterine blood bath.  The progesterone during Shark Week is theoretically the culprit for the excessive laxity and pain, which one of my doctors suggested is nature's way of setting up my body to push out the baby I'll never have.  I dragged myself to the dojo, hearing my Sensei's voice in my head, "You need to be here."  I couldn't even change into my gi, I just got there and took myself to the bench.  You know what?  It was the right decision!

I'm working on learning the sequence of Seiyunchin kata.  From the bench I don't have a chance to practice like I'd like to, but Sensei always includes me.  He still answers my questions, still expects me to pay attention, and I like that very well.  Seated at the bench I can watch everybody's different shape move along the guidelines, see how it's done, see how it's not done.  Not having to perform means having the energy to really listen and think about what Sensei is saying.  It's not my preference, but the truth is that it gives me a chance to grapple with my hearing loss, and to let myself think of hearing as a positive thing for once in a while.

Today is Transgender Day of Remembrance.  I have often spoken of my gi as a comfort item, something gender-neutral, a garb in which my body can just be what it is, free from interpretation and judgement.   We simply accept one another in the dojo, and it's a safe place. I wish all trans people would take at least one self-defense course.  The legislative efforts we've made are great and all, but out on the street the fact is that people get away with hate crimes.  My thoughts are with Krista, who entered immortality several years ago now.  I never stop missing her.

It's a busy blog tonight, lots of thoughts are racing through my head.  Another thing I'm thinking about is Buffalo, my home.  They've got about seven feet of snow in the Southtowns, where I'm from.  I wish I could be there to help shovel, to play, make snowmen (yes, I want to build a snowman), make snow angels, igloos, knock icicles off buildings and trees, and then come in soaking wet and frozen solid and warm up with hot soup.  I want to knock the little clusters of ice from the tassels of my scarf and blow my nose until I stop sniffling from the thaw of mucus membranes.  I miss the giant ice pack that is Buffalo, where anything that hurts is just a snow bank away from relief.

But I'd miss my dojo if I left.  My heart is 100% in it, a part of my identity, perhaps the strongest part of my identity at this time in my life.  Hopefully forever.

Be well.

Who cares about anatomy?

I think everyone, especially everyone with a chronic illness, should read at least one Anatomy & Physiology book, even if they won't understand it all. It has really helped me put the pieces together and keep the terror at bay. I can get through a violent muscle spasm in my "shoulder" by knowing, "well of course it hurts, it's right over my brachial plexus!" I know it sounds intimidating but it makes a huge difference.

The spasms on my brachial plexus on either side have become officially chronic. Last night one was so severe that I had to leave the dojo. When I got home I showered, took a beefy muscle relaxer, and my night was over. I lay awake surfing funny animal photos on Pinterest, waiting for the pill to deaden the hellfire in my neck.

When I can't get to karate it's a horrible time. My emotions go into a tantrum and I feel so lonely for my karate family. I try hard to be patient, but I reel on the fact that karate is the one thing in which I have ever physically succeeded, and it's all I want to do.

Sometimes I catch myself thinking that, if I could just arm myself with enough knowledge, maybe I could beat Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. At those times it couldn't be harder to accept that such a plan is completely unrealistic. Although, knowing more does help me cope better, in that it helps me to communicate exactly what I'm going through, helps me interpret what moves I need to make next, and helps me push myself to do the therapeutic work I need to perform after I exercise.

My health has been on a frightening decline since July. But I'm stubborn and I'm working hard on this life, piece by piece, poco a poco.

Gi-hon Waza

What do you see when you look in the mirror? What are you looking for?

I've been trying makeup. I don't look so sick when I wear makeup, it takes me back to maybe five years ago. But I also don't feel like I look as pretty when I wear makeup. I have the very rare quality of a healthy body self-image. I smile big in the mirror and say, "hey, handsome!" Or, "hey, beautiful!" -- and I mean it. It's nice to not see the sick for a little while sometimes, but seeing myself as I am is visual confirmation of how strong I am, too.

In the dojo I hate to have any such paint on my person. I love my gi because it is without form, without gender. It is just a white cover that makes me feel present and strong. In my gi, I am a part of something much larger than gender, politick, age, ability. None of that matters. It all gets in the way of who we are as people. So in my gi, I am among other spirits who are trying to learn about their bodies and strengths just as I am. We share moments like families do, not interested in the superficial, but in the ways events and efforts have an impact on us, and on those around us.

Beyond the dojo I wish I could wear my gi all the time. I wish I could live with the simplicity of self, just be, and do good things. I'm asking this question later in life than most people do, but, why do we doll ourselves up? How can I come to understand that when I dress in feminine clothing and wear makeup, and style my hair, people feel MORE comfortable, and not less? How can I come to accept that the less of my true self I put out there, the more likely I am to be able to connect with people?

In the dojo we care about safety. We don't worry about painted nails but we worry about long nails. We don't worry about long hair but we worry about hair in our faces. We care on a more fundamental level. It doesn't matter whether we know each other, we just enjoy our time together in our school and share the joy of trying hard. We care about anything that can get in the way of our ability to use our bodies effectively. We even turn away from the mirror to fix our gi, even if we have to fix the back of our gi! How we look when we turn around is what we go with. We accept ourselves and move on to more meaningful things. That's so comforting for me. Some of us are even concerned that we are too distracted and segregated by having coloured kyu-obi (belts which indicate our grade before black, at which point your stay black throughout every next level you achieve).

Today I give thanks that my dojo is a safe (key word: "safe") place to do this work.

Mokuso (meditation):
Breathing in, I smile to myself.
Breathing out, I smile to my dojo.

Be well.

Things to Work On

Gekisai Dai Ni

1. Hand position: The wrist should always be ready to make a strike, even during a block or during a return to chamber.

2. Uraken uchi (modified): I can't fully extend for a proper Uraken uchi because my wrist dislocates like crazy. But if I don't do a complete extension on Uraken uchi, my subsequent Gedan Barai will be very small and weak. So if I modify Uraken uchi, I need to make sure that I still do a full Gedan Barai.

3. Wrist grab: Unless actually grabbing in bunkai the thumb needs to be tucked underneath, against the palm of the hand. Otherwise it's like giving the other person a gift to grab and break the thumbs.

4. Neko Ashi Dachi: Make sure the knees are properly turned a little bit inward to protect the groin and align the knees safely.

5. Tora Guchi: Work on making movements fluid and cooperative between the blocks. Hand posture should have a straight radial line, consistent with strikes and blocks. 

6. Yoi: hands need to remain tight. m
Mushimi movement is heavy-sticky, as through cold peanut butter. Fluid movement.

Today there were few students and Sensei gave a lot of great instruction. I got to work with a Senpai who knows physiology very well, so he was able to explain why we do certain things on a way that made sense to me.  Nice day.

What Keeps You From Trying a Martial Art?

I am convinced that Goju Ryu is for everybody.  I have seen videos of quadriplegics using it effectively in training.  It's up-close and personal, you're always in contact, so I believe a blind person would fare well with it.  I'm half-deaf myself, so I know that hearing loss is not always an obstacle, and certainly is not a deal breaker.  I've got one of the most ridiculous anomalies of a disability in the world with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, and that's not stopping me.  Autism.  Celiac Disease.  Cancer.  ADHD.  OCD.  Bipolar disorder.  Depression.  PTSD.  Poverty.  Pregnancy.

Name your challenge, there's a way the IOGKF world will make Goju Ryu work, to make you more confident of two things:
1. Your life is worth saving.
2. You can and will save your life, and make it the best it can be.  You've made it this far, haven't you?

I'm not saying everybody is fit to be a karateka.  Everyone has their niche, and for some people karate isn't their thing.  I respect that.  But for those who wish to be included, we will include you.

After a two-week hiatus tonight was my first night returning to the dojo.  I feel like I've regressed a year, and I've not even been practicing for two years yet!  I'll get it back, but it's clear that even two weeks of practicing just on my own has set me back.  It's good to know that, though, because it reminds me of how meaningful it is to get out and spend an evening among my dojo family.

When my wife left a little over a year ago I dove into karate.  I needed to save my life, and although the fight was with myself and my own doubts, I had to fight for it.  Sensei called me to the dojo religiously, made it known that he expected me to be there, and not to miss any sessions.  I dropped 50lbs last year, partly from being really sick, part from being too depressed to eat, and partly from being at the dojo for three or four nights a week.  It was the hardest year of my life, and I've had an atypical number of hard years in my life.  I needed karate.  Now I can't imagine life without it, and luckily, I won't have to.  It's not something you do, it's something you become.  Karateka is the word for someone who practices karate.  Karate is such a holistic, invasive, complete way of being a human on earth, that every decision is impacted by what kind of person I want to face the next time I'm looking at myself in the mirror in the dojo.

I've moved to a new place.  My friend gave me three old training weapons that her son no longer uses, and they are in my new living room.  I can't wait to use them!  But, I have decided to wait on two of them until I have at least achieved Shodan Ho rank in karate (first-degree black belt, given by the school, signifying that you are preparing to test for your IOGKF Shodan black belt).  I don't want to get distracted.  At the same time it is important to diversify one's training, so I will at least look up some techniques for rokushaku bo (six foot stick) fighting and conditioning.  But my focus needs to stay on karate.  My performance was terrible tonight compared to how it was two weeks ago, so I'm glad to be back, and I'm not leaving until I'm satisfied with what I achieve!

The only reason I was able to practice karate tonight is because of my friends.  They have helped me tremendously, beyond measure.  They packed and moved /all/ of my belongings in 85-degree heat while I slept on ice packs and ran IV fluids because my A/C broke the week before I moved out and it was nearly impossible to stay conscious.  I am so stupefied at how much I need other people to live my life as I do, but the truth is that I cannot live without the help of others.  Growing up in the isolated way that I did, I have no idea how I survived, and I will /never/ go back to isolating myself.  I will always be karateka, which means being part of a community.  I will help anyone become a part of that community who wishes to try.

My new apartment is modest but very spacious and very beautiful.  I'm happy with it, but as I set it up I realize that, because Karate is part of my heartbeat, I need to, at all costs, make a dojo space.  It doesn't have to be big, but it has to be deliberately dojo space.  Such will be good for healing my broken heart and moving forward.  It has already begun to heal, but as I have a choice in the matter, I prefer to take an active role in the process.

Bushido No Megumi 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.

Be well.

Karate vs. Street Fighting

The difference between getting your butt kicked by a karateka and getting your butt kicked in the street is that the karateka will stick around and help you clean up the blood.