Final Black Belt Essay

Indomitable Spirit

 “Any wisdom that exists, exists in what we already have.  Our wisdom is all mixed up with what we call our neurosis.  Our brilliance, our juiciness, our spiciness, is all mixed up with our craziness and our confusion, and therefore it doesn’t do us any good to try to get rid of our so-called negative aspects, because in that process we also get rid of our basic wonderfulness.  We can lead our life so as to become more awake to who we are and what we’re doing rather than trying to improve or change or get rid of who we are or what we’re doing.”

 “A further sign of health is that we don't become undone by fear and trembling, but we take it as a message that it's time to stop struggling and look directly at what's threatening us.”

                                            -- Pema Chodron

I have never been comfortable in my own skin.  I have struggled all my life with insecurities about my physical appearance and limitations.  I haven’t always been overweight, but I’ve always been “bigger” than everyone else, or disproportionate in some way.  I’ve always stood out in the crowd, in unflattering ways, and because of this, every time I endeavor to do something physical, I come face to face with some very deep-rooted fears and anxieties:  I don’t want to look stupid; I don’t want to be last; I don’t want to mess up; I don’t want to let anyone down.  I’ve always thought of myself as the “weakest link,” physically speaking, and that perception has been reinforced repeatedly over the years, whether through external influences or self-fulfilling prophecy.

            People often say that unrelenting perseverance is one of my best qualities:  I simply decide what I want and then do whatever it takes to make it happen.  And while this is true, it’s also true that in the cerebral areas of life – academics, art, writing, music, teaching – I am blessed with significant natural talent and mental agility, so I can usually achieve goals related to those areas more readily.  For some reason, though, I have not been able to apply that same goal-driven mentality to anything in the physical realm.  Part of this, I know, is that, proportionately, I’ve attempted so many more intellectual pursuits that I’m just used to doing well quickly, so it always surprises me how much work and effort yields so little success in physical activities.  Another part is that my perfectionistic nature won’t let me participate in something at which I cannot be “one of the best.”  The combination of these factors has led me, in the past, to conclude that sports and exercise simply aren’t my “things,” to accept that I just wouldn’t ever be successful at those kinds of activities.

            Those thoughts are probably what kept me out of a dojang until I was twenty-eight years old, despite the fact that I’ve felt drawn to martial arts since I saw Karate Kid when I was ten.  Those same fears have plagued me throughout my Taekwondo training, but they’ve become especially loud and aggressive since I obtained my red belt and began the journey to black belt.  In fact, my “training” has really been more about overcoming the obstacles in my mind than about preparing my physical body.  And I have only just recently realized that I don’t actually think like that anymore.  It’s not that I can’t be successful at physical activities; it’s that achieving those goals takes more time, sweat, and tears than anything else in my life.  Instead of a month or a year, it’s taken a lifetime.  Taekwondo has taught me that.  Master White and my Blue Wave family have taught me that.

            Early in the fall, when I was having extra difficulty drowning out those aggressive fears, Master White responded to my concerns by asking me a question:  “When you make a fist, which finger is the weakest?”  The answer?:  The one that’s not participating.  This was a pivotal moment in my mental development.  I realized that, for the first time in my life, I am part of a team – not just because they have to let me play, but because I am integral; my participation is an important part of what makes the team work.  Granted, Blue Wave is not a team in the traditional sense; Taekwondo is, at heart, an individual sport.  But in a broader sense, I have not made this journey alone.  In one way or another, everyone in my testing group – my “team” – has helped me overcome an obstacle or two, and I have done the same for them.  Along the way, we have all been guided and encouraged by the Burlington black belts, as well as those from other gyms.  When we stand before the board at testing, we represent ourselves, individually and collectively, and all those who have helped us get to this point.  That makes Blue Wave Taekwondo the best of both worlds:  a team that works together, uniting in mutual friendship, to encourage individual and group success.

            Of all the verbal definitions we have to learn for the gup rank tests, the meaning of taeguek four seems to be the most confusing to people.  They scratch their heads and snicker a little when they read that jin, thunder, is the “element of fear and trembling,” and that “because Taekwondo is comprised of virtuous actions, it defines fear as courage.”  I suppose to many people fear and courage seem to be at cross-purposes, but to me the definition makes perfect sense.  Courage is the flip side of fear.  Courage is being terrified of falling but putting one foot in front of the other anyway.  Courage is picking yourself up off the floor and doing another spin hook kick, even though you know you might end up on the floor again.  For me, sometimes courage is just showing up.  I still get anxious when I walk into the dojang; at times I’m still afraid that I’ll make a fool of myself or that I won’t be able to do something.  But I still come to class.  I do my best to silence that old negative tape in my head and work through the fear.  I kick harder, kiyup louder, and refocus my anxious energy toward improving my technique.  I am jin.

            When I successfully attain first dan rank on March 5, 2010, it will be the first time I have ever achieved a major physical goal, the first time I have ever persevered, gone the distance, and refused to let my fears get the best of me.  But it definitely won’t be the last.