When I started my journey I was 14 years old. I had been bullied for years and was angry and hurt. I wanted revenge on my tormentors. I was also a teenager, and struggling with the mental, emotional and physical challenges that come with starting the transition toward adulthood. I was in crisis. I needed something to keep me from losing my way.
My first dojo was very traditional. We sat in seiza when shihan bowed on or off the mats and whenever he demonstrated techniques. We never spoke to him unless spoken to first and never called him anything but "shihan" or "sir". There were punishments (dozens of pushups or long kibadachi sessions) if any dojo rules were violated, but of course they never were (at least not be me). Still, for some reason, I loved the dojo. I became a deshi to my teacher and trained every day for the next seven years. In the summers I usually lived at his house. I did chores and we trained intensively. In retrospect, I needed the harsh discipline and guidance to learn to focus myself. I believe that without it, I wouldn't have made it.
For every hour of training on the mats, I always had at least another hour of academic study in addition to my usual schoolwork. My teacher had me read all the martial arts classics (translated into English, of course) and we discussed them at length. I was especially fascinated by The Book of Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi. It is a classic text of swordsmanship/strategy by someone considered to be the greatest of all. Undefeated in literally hundreds of duels, he famously killed the most prominent fighter of the time, Sasaki Kojiro, with a single blow to the head using a boat oar he carved into a wooden sword on the way to the duel. Musashi is said to have developed the famed Nitoryu or "two sword style" which is often referenced by modern swordsmen but far less often understood. Miyamoto Musashi was irreverent, a commoner rather than a samurai, unrefined - unbeatable. To teenage Me, he was the most perfect antihero. I studied him enthusiastically.
In those days, I read that the warrior path was a lonely one. Constant training under all conditions, meditation, stoicism. These appealed to the loner in me, too. Like Musashi, I felt alone and unwanted, misunderstood, an outcast, but that somehow there might also be greatness in me.
The truth, after 45 years of this life, is very, very different.
The reality is that the warrior path has been many things to me, but never, ever lonely. At every stage and in every dojo, I have always been surrounded by fellow truth-seekers. People like me trying to use the martial arts as an anchor to stabilize, rebuild and improve their lives. People who are seeking to discover purpose and meaning in a life that can feel overwhelmed by materialism and mainstream media. People seeking stillness and wanting to deepen their spirituality. Through this life I have met men and women of all ages and backgrounds, rich and poor. They have become my lifelong companions - my extended family. In every case, they have welcomed and embraced me, flaws and all. Never judging me or my past, and willing to take me at face value for how I am both on and off the mats. I have learned from and been inspired by fellow students, instructors, parents, partners and everyone in between. All of them have given me valuable insight into the importance of The Path.
Over the years, we have opened up our homes to each other. More than that, we have opened our hearts. We have shared our joys, our pain, our fears and our hopes together in deep conversations dripping in sweat after hard workouts. We've shared countless meals, sometimes after literally trying to kill each other. We've pushed each other to the breaking point again and again, but always with love and encouragement. We've showed up for each other with unwavering loyalty. At camps we are all like family, instantly bonded even if we are meeting for the first time. When we meet the first hour or so is usually just hugging each other and catching up, instantly reconnected and back in tune even if it's been months or even years since we last met.
I tell people that martial arts is very different from other hobbies or sports. I can't imagine forging the kind of lifetime friendships I have had in a fitness gym or playing community softball or at the dog park. Not even church created the kind of fellowship I found in the dojos where I trained. There's something special about what we do and the people who dedicate themselves to it.
The martial arts teaches us about life and death. Sometimes in training we become focused on the lethality of what we learn. However, it's also important to remember how much martial arts teaches us about LIFE and living - how much it enriches us through the depth of the friendships we make.
I want to take this moment to recognize and be grateful for the importance of the relationships I have had during the past 45 years in the martial arts community. I have been truly blessed to know you all, my brothers and sisters, and have continued to try and be worthy of your love and respect. You bring out the very best in me. Thank you for the challenges and for your enduring support. I love you.
See you at class.
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