I am a green belt now, deservedly or not, and it is too late for them to take it away from me now! It is mine, all mine. And, boy, is it purty!
I realized that attaining this belt rank might not be a big achievement for some, and a whole bunch of people would probably say, "Who cares?" Then, I realized something else, and it was mind-boggling: I am doing this for me, and my successes and failures are mine alone. Yes, my instructors are super-de-duper influential, and I would not be where I am without them. Of that, I am certain. I owe them all so much, as they have patiently taught me, molded me, corrected me, and, to risk sounding sappy, loved me. But, no matter how much and how well they do all of the above, they cannot make me stick with this, nor can they make me practice, nor conduct myself in a manner becoming to a martial artist, nor even show up to class.
As I am sure that you are all aware, as a mom, I spend most of my time doing things for others or things that will benefit others. Karate, although beneficial to my family in many ways, is not for someone else. It is just me and the mat, me and the punching bag, me and the combination that is giving me fits, me and the struggle for self-discipline. I do not do karate because I have to or because I want my kids to stay in it (although I do want them to), nor do I do it to be tough and strong. I have no delusions of grandeur,neither that this may bring me fame or riches or glory. I do it because it is hard and it is satisfying and just because I want to.
The casual observer does not know what he is missing; He does not understand why having that new belt tied around your waist by an instructor whose respect you so highly value is such an emotional experience. He simply cannot comprehend that the hours devoted, the things sacrificed, the effort poured into perfecting those punches and kicks and blocks is so much more than a physical journey.
The inevitable bruises and bumps are like shiny medals handed out. They are proof that I have enough gumption to get knocked around (and get knocked down), yet get right back up and persevere. Going through ten rounds of sparring, getting kicked in the face and yet never feeling anything but joy and FUN and comraderie towards my opponent. Realizing how much I love to help others and teach when my opponent cracks me right in my head because I have dropped my hands and my first reaction is, "Great shot!!!"
Karate has allowed me (and forced me) to step out of my comfort zone. Comfort zones are, well, comfortable, and that is okay...sometimes. A little comfort now and then is a good thing - mmmm, like spaghetti and garlic bread....But, you cannot live on it, at least not healthily. And how boring would that be anyways?
