On the Balance of Kata, Bunkai, Kumite, and Iri Kumi

The first iri kumi of a martial artist with disabilities is the battle to seek and find a school and instructor who will take them on, without preoccupation for their disability, their ability, and any perceived potential liability.

At the bottom of this post is a list of people of all sorts of cool abilities. I thought about them during this post and think it will enrich this post if you check out the links.

[Image: a river bank in Japan with trees in the foreground and a stone lantern in the background. Colours are different shades of green under a mid-day overcast sun. Text in picture:
"Karate becomes a sport when those who are teaching it forget that it is an art."
-Karate Viewpoints]

A facebook thread of friendly  "chest thumping" got unexpectedly philosophical with questions about who is practicing something martial and who is practicing art.

Loosely defined, here is what the words mean from the title of this blog post:

• Kata - a series of movements commonly referred to as the textbooks of karate
• Bunkai - ways to use movements from the kata in fighting
• Kumite - "grappling hands" 
• Iri kumi - free, controlled exchange of technique, often continuous hard contact

It was said, paraphrased, that those who do not practice iri kumi are not learning to fight, they are learning an art.

For a second, it hurt to think that, if I didn't practice iri kumi I was not practicing the martial part of the art that preoccupies my life. I am used to being told that I am some one way or another, as are most people with disabilities. But the more I thought of other martial artists with disabilities who motivate and challenge me, I became anxious about our inherent right to learn to protect ourselves by any means possible. 

Probably I will spend the rest of my life contemplating the following four questions, on and off again.

1. Where is there room in how martial arts is defined for different people--from within and from without?
2. Are people with disabilities who can't regularly practice iri kumi, then, only practicing an art? Is there room (and there may not seem to be) that it may also give them a fighting chance?
3. Everyone is fighting a battle, and people with disabilities are at constant iri kumi vs. life. But so is everyone else, so how is our existence framed when viewed from the non-martial arts lens?
4. If I didn't have so many projects already I would take time to to look through my materials and see what Higaonna-Sensei has to say directly about kata, bunkai, kumite, and iri kumi. Beliefs grow and develop over time, like it or lump it, but it will be helpful for me to keep looking both back and forward. Any particular points of interest?

I am especially grateful for every person, group, school, and organization that welcomes students of all ability levels.

-=-=-

People I've thought about during this post:

1. My Sensei, who took me on and we made a plan to be safe; who requires that I (we) understand the techniques as they were written for able-bodied majority, and that I (we) find adaptive ways to perform techniques effectively at any functional level: http://www.warriorsofgracekarate.com
2. Higaonna-Sensei, who remarked that it looked like I was having fun; who took time to make suggestions about how he would like to see kata and techniques performed. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morio_Higaonna
3. The ever-growing number of karateka with disabilities in my dojo, which we all celebrate with joy that we can be such a place where all are welcome.
4. John Marrable-Sensei who paved the way as a Goju Ryu karateka with a visible disability and looks to be absolutely lethal: http://johnmarrable.com/self-defence/
5. Ikkaido Federation http://ikkaido.com/
6. Olando Rivera's Warriors for Autism: http://olandoskickboxing.com/
7. SuperCelu, my hero: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8cygU1x6RM
8. Andrea Harkins, The Martial Arts Woman, who featured my narrative in her first anthology: http://www.themartialartswoman.com/
9. Chris De Wet-Sensei, who helps me face the reality that not all experts will have the answers I need, and that I have a responsibility to find those answers for myself, which will empower me to help others grow: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nSNDxjADH1E
10. Michael Downs-Sensei who helps me focus on helping others grow by acknowledging both my disabilities and capabilities: http://defensiveartsdojo.com/
11. Me (here I am! Hi! I did think of myself.)

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.

Lessons Learning

Karate is where I make peace with my body. I learn to protect it, to discover it, and best of all, to use it.

I feel like I got hit by a truck. Thank God I can work from home. I have barely gotten splinted and meds started, though I woke up at 6:30. Breakfast is sitting next to me, cold. I'm determined to meet all my goals for work today, and to care for myself so well that I get through karate tonight. But man, it's a rough start. Maybe a break to blog will settle me down.

Perhaps sensitive to my enthusiasm, Sensei has begun to teach me Seiyunchin. A month ago he asked me not to study it because it was not my kata yet at my level. So I focused on Saifa and I'm glad to have him looking out for my progress. I enjoy Saifa a lot, it is my strongest kata! I just got excited.

Well, I got what I wished for, and now that I'm learning Seiyunchin I almost wish I could back up! I can't physically sit in shiko dachi for that long. Same with Sanchin dachi stance. Other parts of my life have taken up time and energy, so I haven't been practicing at home. Not good.

Here's what I need to work on (the way I see it):
-Get through or modify Sanchin kata without passing out, choking, or dislocating my shoulders and knees

-Keep Saifa kata strong, polish my performance

-Straighten out mae geri (front kick) for power and balance

-Condition my feet to withstand a pivot on the ball of my foot for mawashi geri (roundhouse kick). I have no idea how I'll do this because the problem is that my skin is not connected well and I can feel it tearing away from the fascia. Maybe a small hop?

-Continue doing lots of push-ups! Maybe I will be able to do them off of my knees someday if I can condition my hands to withstand the laxity in weight-bearing. I've been following the advice Higaonna-Sensei gave me, to exercise my hands 100 reps in everything I do to strengthen them.

-Don't give up. Even if I have to sit down, throw up, lie down, modify, whatever. Take care of my health needs, and follow my Sensei's instruction to get back to the mat as soon as possible.

Future goals:
-I'd like to learn breakfalls. I am a high fall risk and this would be a great skill. Practicing my stances and  has certainly reduced my falls and even dislocations. But I would still like to be strong in breakfalls.

-Rolling and tumbling. I've only done one somersault, and with a spotter, but I stayed conscious! If I could learn to tuck my head

I predict that if I know I can fall and tumble safely that I will worry less in daily life about blacking out. I already worry a little less because I have my port and karate has helped me get better conditioned to withstand the heat. Ambient temperature changes remain a very complex problem.

The hardest part about passing out is that my memory brings back the awful feelings I endured when I was sickest, before my port. Just before I got my port I was ready to stop treatment and give up on life. I was going into shock at every needle stick, the pain was unbearable, the drugs made me feel awful and I was either sedated or unconscious most of the time. I can't believe I survived that and I thank my lucky stars for everyone who dragged me through it.  The feelings that come up today are much the same, but the intensity of those feelings should be lessening and they aren't lessening. So it hits like a wave and my only option is to drag myself off the mat quietly and choke on the tears while trying not to throw up or fall over. I don't know if that sensation is an emotional remnant or if it's actually happening.

I suspect that it's still actually happening because there is no cure for it. But the fact that it reminds me of more severe times even after I've gotten the proper chemo in place means that the emotional component of dysautonomia is still kicking my butt, and needs care.

When you're sick and no one really knows what to do your mind becomes a bad neighbourhood, not a place to go on your own.  For the last year and a half I've been living like there's no tomorrow because for the prior three years I either wasn't sure there would be a tomorrow, or wouldn't want it if there was one. It took a lot of cognitive management to survive that and I was on overload from how much alone time I had with my thoughts.  Now I look forward to the next day.

Anyway, that's what I'm working on. Karate is where I work on it. Balance is a moving target.

Randori Dumplings

Today I said, I'm going to the dojo with the intention of connecting with my own body and telling myself is okay to feel it even if what I will feel is pain.

And I did!  I almost barfed a million times but I didn't, and that's impressive.  I know it worries my classmates when I stagger out doubled over, but they trust me when I say I'm okay.  I appreciate their concern.  I don't want to gross everyone out by saying, "Just trying not to vomit, I'm good so far!"  I thought three hours would be enough of a break between eating and working out but now that it's warmer out I'll have to rethink that.

Injury: We practiced randori tonight, which is slow-motion, continuous sparring.  We have to let the opponent finish a move if they are successfully carrying something out, and it's good for learning to take a hit.  My opponent is very good, my belt level.  We crashed our knees into one another and it caused enough pain to drop me to the floor!  Sensei asked if it was dislocated and it was not, but it had dislocated a half-dozen times during warm-up, so I was impressed that it was in place.  He said it'll hurt tomorrow, that I should ice it tonight, and I certainly will.  Yowza!

Hazard: 

Make sure the gym bag is stocked with enough nausea meds and supplies!  Caramba!

Still, I was able to get up and continue sparring.  That meant a lot to me.  I'm getting stronger and stronger.  Part of that is a matter of learning my limits and working around them.

New skill: When we were sparring Sensei reminded me to keep my hands up and guard my face.  I've been working hard on that.  He also said he wants to see me perform more mae geri and less mawashi geri.  I lose my balance on mae geri, which surprises me.  I have something to practice now.  I'm learning to slow down and lower my kicks until my balance is better, then I raise them higher and it feels like I'm starting at zero.  I'm probably not starting at zero, though.

Ahh, karate keeps me sane.

Definition Of Enough

Fifteen minutes is the amount of time in total that I was able to practice karate, which I did very gently. The last few weeks have been violently painful despite what I consider a valiant effort in pain relief. But I am so tired of being benched or stuck on the couch that I decided to give it a shot tonight.

Of course I am glad I went, but I remain  unsatisfied. It's not enough! The cost/benefit analysis would not show that spending a day on the couch trying to do pain control and rest my muscles for 15 minutes of work is worth the investment. I walked in the door at home feeling frustrated. How true it is that I may be proud of myself for the effort, but how angry it makes me that my efforts does not yield more results. There will be other times when I can do a lot more, but right now I am excessively limited. Not only is my pain unbelievable, but my balance is off. My medications sedate me and my laxity moves me in directions that I'm not trying to go.

It was a tough night. I could have gone home after the first couple of times I had to sit down or lie on the floor, so I will focus my positive energy on my persistence. Just for tonight.

I will say this: it has felt quite strange to be at the head of the line a couple of times in the last few months. I have reached the highest rank in the beginners level, and have been invited to test. My next belt will put me at the bottom of the intermediate level, and strangely, I look forward to being back at the bottom. Expectations remain the same no matter where in line you are, but maybe it just feels good to be surrounded by people with more experience than I have.

Poco a poco.