Last week I wrote a difficult letter. I notified my kickboxing instructor that, after four years of study, I was leaving for another martial arts school.
It's hard to say exactly how that all came about. I didn't mean to leave. A friend was leaving, under uncertain circumstances, and all I meant to do was accompany her to various other dojos in the area til she found a new martial arts "home."
We visited some karate studios, a few cardio kickboxing classes and finally, Tae Kwon Do schools. They were all interesting, with their own strengths and weaknesses.
We finally took advantage of the free month at one of the TKD school. It wasn't as much fun as kickboxing. Much more formal school, with strict protocol. No pounding rock music to work out to. (You'd be amazed how much energy you can get, punching and kicking to The Cult's "She Sells Sanctuary"...)
I had no intention of going back to TKD. Those days were over, I thought. Especially when I saw this school had totally revamped their curriculum. Nothing was familiar--the stances, the kata, were all "new school". Even the vocabulary was straight Korean, instead of the blend of Japanese and Korean I was used to. One look at their Olympic/competitive style of sparring and I thought, "No way!!"
But something happened the third week. I felt a restlessness and a yearning I hadn't felt in a long time.
I wanted to study Tae Kwon Do again.
After a long, long, LONG talk with the lead instructor, I came to a decision. First, we had to determine there WAS a place at that dojo for me. That it was truly the right "next step" for me. I felt so drawn to the school, I had no problem with starting over completely, if necessary. I said, "There's so much I probably won't be able to do. There's so much to learn. There's so much fear (in sparring) I have to get over. But...I don't care if it takes me twice as long as everybody else to get a black belt. In fact, I don't care if I never even get there. I just want to study TKD again."
He said, "And that attitude is what makes you a true black belt candidate."
And so started a week of writing several difficult letters.
It's hard to explain, but it felt like I'd joined a 12-step program. I felt compelled (on my own, not an ounce of pressure from the new school) to write a letter to my first martial arts teacher. (It was the other instructor in that first school, not him, who rearranged my knee.)
And I struggled to write a letter to my current martial arts instructor.
It would have been easy to talk about the things I was unhappy about, things that I thought were unfair, or the bitterness I still carried from my original injury from many years ago. But something was changing in my heart--something that happenes a LOT when you study martial arts--and I could only focus on the good things.
I wrote a letter to my first instructor, thanking him for the excellent foundation in martial arts he'd given me. I told him that in focusing on how I'd left TKD, I had overlooked the good things it had given me. Because I realized all the good things had come from his excellent instruction. (He was also infinitely patient with me, because I was quite a complainer in those days.)
And I wrote a letter to my current instructor, thanking him for the last four years of martial arts training. At his school, I had regained some of my confidence, my skills, my stamina and my strength. In hindsight, I can now see that four years of kickboxing was exactly what I needed to get to my next step. Especially the "starting over" part.
I share with you this martial arts saga because this study has always jumpstarted my brain on other challenges in my life. I started Tae Kwon Do, and within a year, I created my first art studio. (Okay, it was a room in my attic, but it was totally dedicated to my artwork.) I firmly believe that it has had a big part in me pursuing--and persevering--my art. And as I work through the physical and mental setbacks, I find new strength and confidence that applies to many areas of my life, including art.
Recently, another manifestation of my training came to me. A long but troubled friendship ended this year. What did I contribute to the situation? I have trouble defending myself when attacked, and blocking attacks. So when when the final straw came--I usually just walk away for good without another word--it came as a complete surprise to this person. That is not the best way to cope, but the only way I know. I hope I know better now. Every martial art, including the "gentle" art of Aikido, teaches us that defense is imperative to protecting ourselves. And even if you do not "kill" your attacker, you must make sure they will not--or cannot--attack you again. No, I promise I won't deliver karate chops the next time someone takes a dig at me. But it wouldn't hurt for me to speak up next time, and call them on it.
Someday, when I am a saint or something, I may be able to write a letter to that other instructor who DID rearrange my knee. Or maybe I won't even feel the need to. That would be a nice place to get to, mentally and spiritually.
My favorite martial arts T-shirt simply says, "A black belt is a white belt who wouldn't quit." I don't know what your professional goals are for your art, but mine would be something quite similar: A successful artist is an aspiring artist who simply would not quit."
