It's getting scary how my art and my martial art experiences keep pace with each other.
I've been just as puzzled and exasperated with my progress in Tae Kwon Do lately as with my art. I still don't have a "place" in the class yet. It's clear to the instructors I'm not really a white belt. But it's not not clear exactly WHAT I am, nor what they should do about it. (I studied TKD years ago and kept up most of my skills with four years of kickboxing.)
In TKD, as with my art, it's tempting to contrast and compare my skills and my progress with the other students. And as with my art, it's easy to get sidetracked by the wrong things--how far I still have to go to achieve my goals, and how long and hard the journey ahead looks.
It's hard to really accept the things that will not happen for me there. In TKD, there are physical constraints that will keep me from being the black belt candidate I could have been 30, 20, even 10 years ago. In the art world, I missed the glory days of the 80's and 90's and the heady success of writing $20,000 to $50,000 in orders at wholesale shows. I've also missed my chance to be an overnight success, let alone a YOUNG overnight success. Heck, at this rate, I might not make being a "middle-aged success".
Something happened in TKD class last Monday night, though.
I had fun.
I came into class depressed from my show. All I could think about was how easy it would be to simply walk away from all this frustration and emotional pain.
Instead, I chose to focus on something different.
As we knelt for that all-too-brief moment of meditation at the beginning of class--that little spot of time where we set down all the expectations of the outside world, let go of all the clamor in our hearts, and simply focus on being in class--I had a sudden inspiration.
Tonight, I thought, I will have fun.
I decided to let go of all expectations IN class, and simply enjoy whatever happened.
If I ran out of breath, I would just slow down and BREATHE. If I couldn't do a kick, I would just modify my stance and do what I could. If I felt left out of the comraderie, I would just smile anyway.
I decided no matter what, it was all going to be good.
But when class started, it turned out we weren't going to do the regular routine.
We were going to break boards.
Now, to people outside the martial arts, board breaking looks like the most difficult and dramatic trick of all--next to breaking concrete blocks, that is. Those of us IN martial arts, though, know it's just that--a trick.
Oh, it takes SOME skill. Knowing how to hit, and where to focus. And the person who holds the board has to hold it just right.
Bottom line, though, it is incredibly easy to break a board.
Even a beginner with some confidence and determination can break a board.
Sure enough, after a little instruction and coaching, and constant encouragement from the black belts, we were quickly smacking our boards and breaking with the best of them.
Afterwards, I felt exhilarated. I think everyone else did, too. There's just something exciting about hitting the board just right with a resounding "CRACK" and watching the pieces fly off.
And I realized this is a precious thing, no matter how "silly" or "trivial" the feat is.
It is important to enjoy the moment, whatever we do.
Sure, there is the focus and the hard work, the constant practice and the drills, the determination to do your best work and to persevere in spite of setbacks.
I've gotten so very good at that, in my art as well as in my martial arts.
But now it's time to let some fun in, too. And a little excitement. And maybe even a little drama.
There are more efficient ways of making big boards into smaller ones.
But the sheer theater of striking your hand through a piece of lumber, and seeing that board shatter from the blow--well, I needed that little bit of excitement in my life that night.
I hope you find a way to put a little of that theater and drama in YOUR art life right now, too.
