Ahh, it's good to be back!
The goofy smile on my face gives me away: I am astonished by every move I make.
For several reasons I laugh:
-I am overwhelmed with fear that I will become injured and lose everything in the blink of an eye, and if I don't let that ridiculous notion out I will either enable a self-fulfilling prophesy or collapse from the anxiety.
-I have no idea how loudly my bones are cracking, but I know other people can hear them throughout the entire class.
-I have never taken so strongly to a person as I have to Sensei. I cannot believe how easy it is to try anything at all, to allow myself to be fully included. Baffling magic. Or simply love.
-I trust my fellow karateka and I am giddy to be among them, no matter how awkward I feel, no matter how peculiarly my bizarre body is behaving.
-I cannot understand why my body goes in strange ways when I understand and try to enforce the physiology of each move.
I laugh because I feel good in class, no matter how scary, painful, or lofty the work gets. I am safe, no one is going to let anything bad happen to me.
A Senpai noticed that I was backing off and slowing down. She spoke up and asked if I was too hot, because I was dancing around the blasts of heat from the registers overhead. The class waited while the thermostat was adjusted. I was able to complete the class! Thank heaven for the people in my dojo!
Sensei held the pad while I did my very first roundhouse kicks tonight. He played with me, shouting, "Ooh! Ouch!" as I kicked. When I stopped to breathe he encouraged me to keep going: "Let's go! Let's go!" He held the pad high when I was able to kick high, and lowered it when I needed a break. I thought of how my grandfather used to play with me, and let myself feel free to discover what I could do.
Tonight's lesson: it is harder to roundhouse kick with a dislocated hip than it is to stand on it and kick with the better leg. Flinging a loose hip knocked me of balance a number of times. The better thing to do was slow it down and mind my range of motion. That's just a limitation I will have to learn to work with.
All these new discoveries about my body are showing me that I have many more capabilities than limits.
"Get a couple of successes under your belt" was some advice my brother gave me when I got my new job, because I had been struggling to get settled. In karate, every time I give my best effort it is a success, no matter how it plays out. So if I am struggling with a move and am discouraged, I practice the other moves I know very well, and tip the scale a little bit by getting in touch with my strong foundation. Then I go back and give it a try again, and the attitude reset gives me new mettle to work with.
Nobody in the class seems to mind that I go off and do many things differently. On the contrary, they seem to celebrate that I show up. Their inclusion keeps me from allowing myself to stand still and feel bad when they do something it wouldn't be safe for me to do.
The skin on my finger split open on nothing at all tonight, and that was discouraging. I forget that my body is so fragile. I'm just glad it wasn't my feet.
In class I enjoy myself. I like watching myself in the mirror. I watch my body move, I look at how Sensei moves his body and I give it my best shot. I trust myself to continue on my own, rather than staying focused on what Sensei is doing. I have to move slowly and carefully, so my tempo is my own. It seems that when I am most focused, I am keeping up with the class. But it feels like Sensei is aware that I am getting something out of the current exercise, and he is slowing the class down a little bit so I can really get it. I like Sensei. He cares about every student. No one slips under the radar; we learn together, but at our own paces. We all waited for a karateka to finish his practice kicks because he was very focused, and was giving every kick 110% of himself. I don't know whether this sense I get about Sensei is emotional or perceptual, but the sweetness is just as real either way. In any case, it feels good to have someone wait for me. It makes me feel valued, like I am worth the wait. I know a lot of anxious people who are always in a rush, and I feel badly for their suffering. So for Sensei to be so patient, I enjoy the chance to feel important, and I also like joining in on the wait, so that other people feel valuable, too. Waiting for others is satisfying. When my karateka finished his kicks, I was very happy for him.
The holidays were lovely, but I really missed karate! I wish the dojo would never close!
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