“First learn stand, then learn fly”

Enduring words spoken by the fictional character Mr. Miyagi in the original Katate Kid (1984) reflected the time honored, age-old discipline and training for an underdog to overcome an adversary. Many decades have come and gone and in today’s instant gratification society, these hard roads do seem to be less and less traveled. As time goes on, I hazard to guess where our society will end up if generations continue to forsake simpler and unhurried approaches to progress.

Many years ago, I embarked on the extracurricular of karate. I am unsure whether it was the film that inspired me to take up the sport or something else. But I felt it was something I can do. Two to three times per week, I would practice with the class. I had very good instructors and a strong group of cohorts. Our style of karate had only three colored belts: white, brown and black. Only three, I asked? One of the instructors said to me, “It’s not the color of the belt that matters; it’s the opponent you face.” It took me a while to understand this, but the martial arts philosophy was partly the reason I was drawn deeper into the sport. It took me over three years to progress to the brown belt and another three before I was invited to take the kyu test. At this annual test, I demonstrated kihon (basics), kumite (fighting) and kata (form) in front of seniors, peers and their families from all dojos across the country. Shaking like a leaf, I went through the requisite routine and gave life to six years of training. Afterwards, I bowed respectfully to the Black Belt Council thanking them for the opportunity to be evaluated. By the end of that day, I was told that my efforts were adequate and I was conferred the black belt rank. I was also told that, “Now I can truly begin to practice karate.” I was elated, exhausted and confused when I heard this news. Drawing from only a handful of years of effort and finding myself only at the doorstep of karateka. It truly was a humbling feeling to know that everything I’ve done up to this point allow me to begin the meaningful practice of the art. It actually made me revered the black belt feel even more. Achieving the black belt wasn’t the goal, and it took getting it for me to realize this.

It was refreshing to see many other young people putting their phones away long enough to learning something new. They taught my daughter balance, poise and form. They corrected her stances so that she learns how to be grounded and not be easily swayed, both physically and figuratively. They nudged and pushed her to test her posture and eventually taught her how to deflect a punch while holding her ground — again, both physically and figuratively.

Then I graduated, got a job, married, had a child and got swamped and busy as life typically does. I have spent little time with my karate. Decades later, an opportunity for a regional, non-competitive meet became available. I took my 8 year-old to expose her to the sport. She was apprehensive but I assured her as an unranked white belt, she is in a gym full of people who will help her not just on form, but on confidence. She asked me, “Will they teach me how to break boards?” No. That’s not what we do. “What will they teach me?” First they will teach you how to stand. Clearly confused, she looked at me in a most baffled and bewildered expression and said, “But I already know how to stand…and walk…and run.” One step at a time, young Padawan.

 The two-day meet was mostly geared toward educating and reeducating black belts on basic techniques. I was hardly the only one who had come back from a long absence. Many took an interest in my daughter who was the youngest there. It was refreshing to see many other young people putting their phones away long enough to learning something new. They taught my daughter form, balance and poise . They corrected her stance so that she learns how to be grounded and not be easily swayed, both physically and figuratively. They nudged and pushed her to test her posture and eventually taught her how to deflect a punch while holding her ground — again, both physically and figuratively. Throughout the two day meet, I had a chance to catch up with people I haven’t seen in years and met some new friends. I also took another small step into the world of karateka – a door I had opened decades ago. It was so nourishing for both my body and my soul.

As we all parted after the celebratory dinner and caught our flights back home, I asked my daughter, “So what did you learn this weekend?” They taught me how to stand. I smirked and replied, “That’s a lot for one weekend. Will you come back again?”  Yah! She appears to appreciate the simpler and unhurried approach.