Watch, and Do

"We are going to help you succeed. And if you don't succeed we're going to make you succeed until you succeed!" -Sensei Tony

Higaonna-Sensei has said in many a documentary that we are not fighting opponents, but rather, ourselves. Such is absolutely true. We are fighting our own frustration with ourselves, with our limitations, with the world around us, and our own ability to stick with it regardless of the pain. The pain can be physical or emotional, or a little bit of both, but the most important thing is to remember to have fun.

It happened again where I couldn't hear to keep up. I did my best but even though I stood in the front of the room so I could read instructor's lips I couldn't make out a word that was being said, and at the front and center of the room I had a nice clear view in the mirror of the fact that everyone else was doing something that I didn't understand. Neither was able to adapt the drills and exercises that I couldn't do because I didn't know what was being done.

Several times I asked the instructor to slow down or to repeat himself but it was no use for me. I struggled to understand, or at least to tune out. I thought for several minutes about this being what life is like not only for the hard of hearing but for anyone who does not speak a language that's being spoken in room, while others are perfectly able to understand. No instructor wants this to be the case and I could never fault anyone filled with such love and enthusiasm that it is hard for them to remember to slow down. Karate is exciting stuff and there is much to learn! But he is such a good instructor that I didn't want to miss it.

I finally noticed myself choking on the frustration and took myself to the bench, thinking maybe I could learn what he was talking about if I were just watching. It occurred to me that it might be less distracting for the other students if I just left but if I hid myself from sight because my differences are too hard for me to handle it sets a precedent that we are better off out of sight. Watching did not help. In fact I had so exhausted myself with frustration that I had nothing left to concentrate with.

Sensei came to check on me and I could barely even speak. It has been ages since I have been unable to speak due to something this commonplace in my life. "What's going on?" He asked.

"I can't hear and I can't do half of the stuff they're doing, I don't understand what is going on so I can't adapt it, I am so frustrated," I whimpered, as strongly as I could.
"Get back in there," he said, "watch and do."
"But I can't even--"
"Watch and do. Even if it's wrong, do it. Watch and do."

He was right, as usual. The biggest obstacle we face in karate is ourselves. We have to face ourselves in the mirror during drills, and during kata the invisible opponent is ourselves. I would be stronger by learning to face my frustration when I can't hear.

Sensei doesn't take no for an answer, especially when he knows he is right about something that will help another person grow. Moreover, he is my teacher, and I will always respect his instructions. He won't set me up for anything I can't do. And if it is too hard he will stay on me with support and positivity until I find my own way to succeed.

Back to the mats. "Sensei said so!" put a big smile on my wilted face. I could feel my eyes brightening up the expression on my face, the pull of Sensei's encouragement lifting their soggy corners.

I watched and learned in the back. It was a little easier there because I didn't have someone talking in my face whom I couldn't understand. When Senpai stopped to talk I let it go and focused on mindful breathing. I collected myself, having acknowledged that my teacher was right and I was better off facing the challenge.

But my place is in the front. The other students always make room for me up front so I can see the instructors' mouths. When I need to duck out for a break they do not fill in the gaps. They work patiently in their same spaces for the times I slip back through them into my spot. I did not want to go back to that spot today. Today, I had found a space in the back to collect myself.

As these stories go, it was not in the cards for me to stay back under Sensei's watch. He pointed to the front and nodded for me to go. I must have frozen. The next thing I remember he was right next to me, smiling and telling me to go. "Watch and do. SENSEI SAID SO!" he said with a laugh. I found myself smiling too, and I felt like I could have puked from the anguish of standing fourteen inches from someone I couldn't understand.

My family never taught us to speak Italian so that the adults could talk around the children. I have been so shapen by that and by hearing impairment that I have learned five other languages just to decrease the odds that I will ever have to go through that again. Here I was, facing that bit of family history that really hurt me. Their dialect was so beautiful, so musical, that I would have given anything to have spoken it with them.

But those days were over, I still can't hear, and I found myself up at the front-Sensei said so. Watch and do. Watch and do. Watch (pause) and do.

When my father used to hit me he would make me chant, "o-kay, Dad!" until he was satisfied with the volume and clarity. By the time I reached high school his standards had gone up and I had to say it for longer, and more clearly. I had to swallow the shaking in my voice to get it out and make him stop.

This was different. It was for my benefit. It was to make me stronger, to give me simple words that I could use to walk myself safely through my frustration, cajoling directions to help me ground myself. I wonder so often at the dojo, why couldn't my father have been like that? The answer is that he could have, and chose not to. But the point isn't even the comparison, for there really isn't one. The point is, it is nice to have someone apply gentle pressure to our wounds until the bleeding stops, be they physical or psychological. But the most special kind of bandage is the loving one that sticks with you while you get a nudge back into where you belong.

Watch, and do.

At some point in my life I will give up on hearing completely. I'm not far off. It's been three years since my ossiculoplasty and I'm still not getting the cognitive auditory processing I need to take the stress off of my frontal cortex, which spends way too much time and energy deciphering what might have just been said. When that point in my life comes I will have faced the fact that life will be just as it is today when I can't hear in the dojo. I will simply have to watch and do. I'll be alright.

Seiryoku Zenyou: Maximum Efficiency, Minimum Effort

My alarm goes off twice on Saturday mornings.  In its computerized text-to-speech fashion the first alarm says, "It's time to wake up for Saturday morning karate, and I know you're excited about it."  The second one says, "Karate is good for you, don't be late!"  Saturday morning karate is the best way to start a weekend.  I've started a lot of weekends, so I think I am qualified to say this. :)  The class is always smaller, so it's much more intimate and detail-focused.  The early bird gets the worm, because we get much more one-on-one feedback than we do in our evening classes.

Today was all about the judicious use of energy.  Every day life is an overwhelming iteration of today's lesson, which made it fascinating to explore the concept of balancing energy and outcomes in a controlled environment.  This is true for anyone, so we all have to learn this in our own ways.  Though out of context, a phrase I heard spoken to the new class spoke to my frustration with the amount of effort it takes to put less effort into an action:

"I am just this way." 

                         Laurel-Sensei

The drills we did were centered on relaxing, which was, paradoxically, rather hard work.  The point was to only tense what needed tension, and only for as long as possible.  The point was conservation.  The point was to be judicious.  The point was exactly what success with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome is like.  In that sense, as it often turns out, having EDS put me at an advantage.

We paired up.  While one karateka punched slowly, the other waited until the very last moment to tighten up the abdomen in order to sustain the blow.  Alternating this practice for several minutes gave us a chance to think about, feel about, and get to know which muscles we needed to use and which ones we could keep relaxed.  It took a deliberate exhalation and wiggle to relax those core muscles, especially after repeated blows, even though the blows were slow and light.

Next I learned the difference between a push to stop someone and a push to engage someone.  It seemed that the difference is in the degree of push and the amount of effort spent on that one short, limited physical contact.  On the street this would be one of those 2.ideas where first impressions are everything, because the way one declines a first approach can be a simple declension, or it can be an escalation. 

Sensei applied a method to relax the forearms, developed by Nakamura Tetsuji-Sensei, by loosening the hands immediately after a strike. We fell into shiko dachi (square stance) and punched downward with both hands.  After extending the fists downward, the objective was to relax immediately and allow them to fly back up freely, in whatever direction they would go.  

I had a hard time with Nakamura's practice for many reasons: 1. Shiko dachi is very scary because I never know when I will land wrong and get hurt, so I become scared and apprehensive.  2. I am trained by my efforts in physiotherapy to always tense larger muscles first.  Working with smaller muscles today revealed to me that I still need to focus on smaller and finer muscle tone, because my elbows kept dislocating.  In order to focus on not dislocating my elbows I nixed the shiko dachi stance and just focused on a downward punch and the subsequent rebound.  That made it really strange, because my body was in the way of a proper downward punch, all the wrong muscles were tensed, and my speed and power were terribly affected.  Unfortunately, I get into these incredibly deep assessments simply because I have to preserve my joints, and I lose the point of the drill.  But I did my best, and that is the point of the entire practice.  Although I was frustrated, I was later comforted when I heard, "I am simply this way."  This is it, folks.  If I want to practice, not every punch will be a fatal blow.  I just have to try again and again, like everyone else, until I find a successful way to adapt.  "Don't lose heart," says Tony-Sensei.  In line with the day's lesson, I let this lesson go, practiced it more gently, and reserved my energy for the next one.

Using mae geri (front kick) and mawashi geri (roundhouse kick) we practiced striking, and then relaxing our legs in between strikes.  Sensei explained that, when it's time for an endurance drill or fight, every second of rest is vital.  Being clever at timing and reserving energy in a fight can allow one's opponent to tire himself out before a fighter makes a concentrated effort to end the fight as quickly as possible.

A benefit of seiryoku zenyou is that a larger opponent may be left to tire himself out, giving a smaller opponent an advantage, assuming they survive the strikes.  Every dog has his day, they say.

On my penultimate (next-to-last) mawashi geri I landed wrong on my left leg and I felt my knee dislocate.  But I only had one strike left, and I went for it.  That sealed the deal, and I spent the rest of the class unable to stand.  It's a good thing I had spent time practicing balance on one leg earlier that morning.  I had to sit down for the next bit of instruction, and Laurel-Sensei was kind toward me in letting me sit down, but still making sure I could see and hear.  I had been running fluids the entire time, so I had the refrigerated saline bag attached to me.  I tossed the bag under my knee and elevated it a little.  Even a few minutes of rest and elevation made a world of difference.  When it was time to line up my limp was far less pronounced than it would have been.  In a real-life application, I had just done what we'd spent the last hour doing: rest when needed, work when needed. 

Okay, so I limped out of there.  That could have happened anywhere.  I rarely, if ever, get injured in karate. I end up sore and tired, but we are taught so well and carefully that I never have fear, but always have respect for myself and others.  Landing wrong and dislocating happens every day, and every step I take is carefully measured.  I spent a year and a half after diagnosis learning to walk and move safely, which dramatically reduced my injuries to about one-third the frequency and severity of the prior twenty five years.  How easy would it be to say, "See that?  You dislocated.  You shouldn't be doing karate."  But it happens no matter what I do: I am just this way.  If being this way (i.e., having EDS) ever catches up to me, and I get to the point that I can no longer practice (fat chance - it's in my blood now!), I will remember that when I could, I did.

If you want to learn more about your life, you have to wake up early and show up to live it.

Be well.

Never Stop Learning

I've spent the last three days on the couch sleeping and puking my guts up. EDS is for the birds.

It all started Tuesday, which rolled into Wednesday: a full two days of training for work in a hot and full room. I wilted like lettuce fried in oil. Nothing I did worked to stave off the heat exhaustion. I couldn't keep my joints in, my skin was burning, I was nauseous, it was a mess. They got a fan running but it wasn't enough. I'm glad I had a terp because I couldn't hear over the fan. :p. Such days are long and painful. Not a special chair, a back brace or a vista collar would keep me vertical.  What's amazing is that I have not needed any of these devices since last summer's heat took its toll. I had forgotten how completely it saps me of life and wellness.

My port did what it was supposed to do: kept me conscious and hydrated. But that wasn't enough. When I got home Wednesday night I collapsed until this afternoon.

I took advantage of the downtime to think about the muscles I've been using in my kata practice, and to think about the way Rafael looks when he performs them. They are very different. I also watched Higaonna-Sensei on YouTube performing Gekisai Dai Ni about ten times. I tried toughening my weak and hurting muscles from the couch as though they were going to perform those kata from the sofa. I have everything but the nekowashi dachi hands. I think.

When I miss karate my heart breaks. I had decided that I would make it today by hook or by crook, even if just to sit on the bench. But I had no energy in me this morning after having been sick all night.

This is one of the times when it's the worst thing to be alone. Not only am I a prisoner in my body, but my mind is wondering what my wife is out doing with another woman who is not sick, and I wonder all kinds of things that it is best not to think about.  I was too sick to prepare food that I just threw up anyway once I finally got them made. That's nowhere near as cool as practicing karate!

This is the reality of EDS. It is unpredictably severe, painful, lonely, and tiring. I need to remember this bout the next time I feel badly that I'm not keeping up in karate. The reality of EDS is this: it's amazing that I am following this dream! I could give up and let myself keep feeling like death as much as I do, or I can make my best effort to do everything I can for as long as possible. I have not wasted a single moment of my time in the dojo. My PT was right, when I am sick and stuck in bed, I'm going to want those memories. There is so little else keeping me company these days.

I am proud of my hard work and I wish to be brave when I my days are less triumphant. Such is a challenge, and begs for wisdom on how to be grateful for what I have accomplished, rather than angry about my limitations. But it's about balance, right? About not being satisfied with just getting by? We only get one life to live and I have the chance to make a lot of good choices. May they be good ones.

Poco a poco

I couldn't hear and couldn't keep up tonight. The stress, pain and exhaustion of living on my own are catching up to be. I found myself straining to understand the Senpai and got so confused that I took a seat on the bench to just observe from a distance and see if I could figure out what was going on. It was the right thing to do because I was becoming frustrated and feeling isolated. But that's just where the adventure began, and it gets better from here.

Rafael speaks very limited English but he has beautiful Spanish. He speaks quickly, though clearly, and it is usually easy to understand him because he demonstrates what he says. He also seems to understand without me ever having to have explained that if you repeat the word and use only as many words as you need, it's MUCH easier for me to hear. He has started coming to some of my classes to help out, and help is exactly what I needed.

It helps to think in another language when I can't hear because I fall mute when I get overwhelmed by the number of possible words I heard in English. Believe it or not, even American English is overbroad. So when I fall mute it helps to switch to any other language, where I have a less complicated set of words to work with.

Spanish speakers are far more animated, like Italians are. It takes many fewer words because we also move to communicate. The bonus here is that I can communicate a lot more while saying far less. Speech really just isn't my thing.

Rafael demonstrated first because I couldn't hear the instructions, and his demonstration took the frustration out of trying to listen. Then we started and he gave lots of encouragement, lots of correction. When he saw that I understood the principal he had me stop and rest. I don't know how he understood but he did. He is very much like Sensei Tony in that way, very aware of himself and of others, but always focused on how to help others.

At the end of the class I was tired but quite satisfied with the outcome. I don't know how to repay the love of all the people there or why I feel compelled to do so. I have said before that I should be focused on letting their help be part of my success, because my progress is their reward in its own way.

Sunday Breakfast

Karate starts on Saturday mornings at 8am. My mother was in town to help me clean my house and make it nice for me. We spent the morning talking about my future.

Anyone who has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome knows how hard and painful mornings are. My dojo does not ignore the grunts and adaptations, but rather, encourages me to adapt and keep up in my own way.  I skipped karate on Saturday to be with Mom and I'm glad I did. Quality time is as rare as EDS.  We enjoyed the chat and had a couple of little adventures around town before her flight.

But today I wanted to join my karateka in my heart. I got up early, hydrated, put my bones in place, and hopped up to the wii. It took 45 minutes to get a 19-minute workout, plus a rest on the couch after. But I did it!

On Sundays I make myself a big breakfast- toast, coffee, grape, and spinach with egg and cheese. (It's supposed to be an egg scramble and spinach is supposed to be a garnish, I think, but I really love spinach.)

I'm excited about karate tomorrow because I will not have missed a beat, physiologically speaking.  If I miss Saturday karate that's five days before I have karate again on Monday, so it helps to have something else to do. I can get a better workout if I exercise in the evenings, though something carnal inside me argues that working out in the morning has is own importance; it's much harder to workout in the morning. Such is true for anyone on some level, especially if it's been a while.

Start where you are, keep it up, and stay again when you need to, right from where you are at that time.

Take a Break.

Sensei walks past me, catches my eye, and discreetly waves his hand, lowly.  It gently says, "I see you are working hard, but I also see that you are suffering.  Take a break."

I refocus: it is more important to succeed overall than to complete this one task.

Karate is the break I take from life itself, which is currently a circus of horrors. It won't always be this way, and I have to believe that because it has not always been this way. Despite the worst, or because of it,  am still surrounded by many wonderful people, which says a lot about both their and my character.

We're going to support you through this. -Sensei

This evening's class was all about endurance. We stood in shiko dachi stance and held our positions while each student counted from 1 to 10 in Japanese, with a Kiai! in the middle of each, punching with every count. It took a lot out of me but I was amazed that I was able to participate. I actually finished with the rest of the class! Now, when I stood up, it was a different story, but I still felt good, even though I felt an enormous rush of pain. It went away in a few seconds.

I had sent my Sensei an email explaining how difficult times have been for me. It's been so humiliating to have to rely so much on others when my independence means so much to me. However, I consider myself extremely lucky because I have the kind of friends who are aware of the importance of anybody's sense of independence and self.

When I get to karate I know immediately a few things:
1. Something wonderful is about to happen.
2. This will hurt.
3. I will be proud of myself.
4. My fellow classmates will not let me fail.
5. I will not give up on my classmates.

Sensei watches every one of us from warm up to cool down. He expects our best and he has the leadership skills to pull it out of us. I can tell when he is frustrated because he doesn't let it get to him. He turns stress into effort and enrolls the students in success. I enjoy watching him teach as much as I enjoy learning.

An interesting note is that I have always struggled with my skin colour. I really dislike how yellow I look as an Italian. I know nobody even notices and under most light I look white. But Italians weren't even seen as white people until the Civil Rights Movement. My family culture is very Italian. The food I eat, the language I use, the way I carry myself, all Italian (for better or for worse). I'm okay with that, though I miss being around other Italians. But my skin colour makes me feel so alone. I am the only one in my class who is my colour or culture and it's the same at work.

When I practice karate in front of the mirror I have to face what I look like from head to toe. Believe it or not I am happy with what I see because I am improving every day. Everyone struggles with something they would change about themselves. For me you would think it would be my weight or my shape. While I would indeed like to change those things, I do wish I were either more olive or less yellow.  I suppose it's vain to be thinking about these things when the mirrors are there so I can make sure I am standing properly. I have to remember Zander's Rule #6 and get back to my practices!

After an endurance exercise Sensei had us all shake it out and stretch. Since I don't need to stretch I walk in place and relax my muscles.

"Relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax" -Nakamura Tetsuji Sensei, on each step while running in place

I work extremely hard on staying relaxed and I am beginning to get results. I fatigue more slowly, hurt less sharply, and play more happily.

While we practiced neko washi dachi (cat stance) My feet hurt very badly. I really suffer when we do foot work. But I give it my all. I know Sensei sees me struggling and I think he is proud of me during those times because he doesn't say anything to me. But once I stabilize and get back with the group he always gives me an encouraging word, or he then makes the effort to correct me. I don't think I can explain how it feels when someone accepts me as I am and helps me grow from wherever I started. But I think part of the feeling is supported. The other part has something to do with love and compassion.  And let's be honest-sometimes it's just funny to watch because I take it so seriously!  To relax takes practice. Relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax, relax....

As I walked out of the dojo Sensei gave me a pat on the shoulder and said, "I'm glad you came. We're going to support you through this." I was so touched that I had to switch languages to keep from breaking down in front of everybody. "Duele mucho," I said. It hurts so much.   
To relax and let the pain go through me is extremely hard and lonesome. Though I know I am not alone I can't help but feel lonely. Relax, relax, relax....

I signed up for this class because as an easy-to-target lgbt person with multiple disabilities I wanted to learn self-defense. I wanted to also prove to myself that alternative modes of exercise were possible, and that I could rely on the knowledge and humanity of others to help me achieve goals. Instead, karate has saved my life a hundred times and made me a better person.