09. I’ve fallen and I really can’t get up.

08. I’m too broke to buy new clothes.

07. I breathe like Darth Vader climbing up the stairs.

06. I can’t see or tie my shoe laces.

05. My only friends are Chandler, Rachel, Joey, Monica, and Ross.

04. My dog does better Kata than I do.

03. My 3 year old niece keeps beating me up.

02. Yelling at bad drivers is not enough stress relief.

01. There is no such thing as diet Sushi.

To my periphery, I am being coaxed by a glance to kneel. On the shomen side of the tatami was Saiko Shihan, on the opposite side were what seemed like his regular students. On the right side of the tatami were the international and native senior ranks and on the left side was – just me. I thought this was the place for foreigners so that they would not be in the way of the class which, was definitely okay with me. Silly me, it was a place of honor and after Saiko-Shihan initiates class with a kneel, it was supposed to be my turn to follow. As it turns out I am the one causing the awkward stillness since everyone was waiting for me. As everyone sits in seiza, my imaginary pink tutu just got pinker and bigger.

This visit was arranged by Master Yagi Meitetsu Sensei of the Meibukan Hombu Dojo. Saiko Shihan had graciously written a congratulatory letter for Master Yagi’s latest book and on this visit, I had been asked to follow up with an interview for another book. In preparing to meet Yamaguchi Saiko Shihan, I called up his Canadian representative, John Preigert, for advice. In addition, I spoke with other individuals who had previously met Saiko Shihan and everyone basically said the same thing. He is professional and a nice man. During my two hours with him, I can confirm this. He had to be in order to put up with all of my protocol “faux pas”. For one, I kept calling him Sensei over and over again while everyone else referred to him as Saiko Shihan and while taking pictures, I sat closer to him than his senior students. I am sure that I must have committed dozens of mistakes. By the end of class, I felt as though I had morphed into a clumsy Charlie Chaplin of the Karate world – still wearing a tutu. If a Japanese stranger had peeked his head into the dojo, he would have shaken his head wondering who the hell is that gaijin.

Like many great Japanese masters however, Saiko Shihan and his students went out of their way to make me feel comfortable. As much as I tried not to mess up, their efforts are equal in exercising understanding and patience. Just like Meibukan Hombu Dojo, if one is lucky, the dojo will go further out of their way to correct you which sometimes may seem a little blunt to us in the west. We might not take too well to it but I suppose, like any relationship, we should also exercise understanding and patience too. Understanding each nation’s protocol is one aspect of developing good diplomatic relations as is forgiving each other when one makes an honest mistake. It’s a lot like the Asian custom of fighting for the bill. Each person knows which party is to pay but it would be rude not to offer to help.

Thank goodness I get scrutinized all the time. Is this because of their graciousness or my social ineptness? Likely a little of both. Either way, applying well meaning corrections have always helped me socialize better in Japan which opens up a whole different world of cultural understanding to me. From what it seems, I will probably be making a lot more visits to other dojos in the near future. So if you happen see a bumbling black belt making a fool of himself in one of your classes, it will likely be me so please don’t hesitate to correct me.  I promise though that I’ll only be wearing the pink tutus in my mind.

He gets by on what people want to call a pair of prosthetic limbs. Not the super, high tech, bionic, space aged materials, and better than nature type but the ones that look more like wooden batons with shoe trees. That’s how they made them in 1985. Mere stumps hinged only at the knees.  Up until now, I hadn’t really paid much attention to him. Not because I chose to ignore him, but rather he seemed “normal.” He attended classes regularly, did his kata without complaints, sparred a little, loved movies, and had a good sense of humor. Up until now, the fact that he had no legs was a non-issue. Oh, he has no legs. Really – no legs. He wanted help with a spinning hook kick. …And why not.  He wanted to learn how to do a spinning kick and why should anyone deny him this lesson. Little would I have predicted however that the lesson was more of a learning experience for me than it would be for him.

With the dojo to ourselves, we bowed informally to signify the beginning of the lesson. He had already made it to green belt and his next wish was to learn a fairly advanced technique that is not very practical for most of us. Those who are good at it though make it look spectacular. At first, it seemed so natural to say pivot the foot, twist the body, raise the leg, and make contact with the bottom part of the heel. Of this list though, perhaps he could raise his prosthesis, but everything else was not so easy or maybe not even possible. As we began to dissect the techniques into tiny tasks, it had finally occurred to me that simple chores such as getting up and getting changed, going to the washroom, riding a bike, or even running to catch the bus is really not so simple for him. Yet, I don’t recall any complaints about blisters, bruising, or joint pain of any kind which happened in every class. Surprisingly, his reaction was typically quite the opposite. He tackled his disability on a daily basis with a positive mental attitude that made him seem fearless. By hour’s end, his stoic tenacity had him achieve what he wanted. He was performing the spinning hook kick consistently. “Normal” people would have already given up. BRAVO! His perseverance humbled me. If only we could harness his positive thinking.

That’s the thing about Karate. It can bring out the best in you. It doesn’t matter if you are 4 or 94, super-fit and unfit, rich or poor, with or without legs. You can’t say that about Judo or Golf. Back in 1985, I thought I was giving up my time for this boy but instead he gave me an appreciation of patience, seeded a positive mental attitude, and sparked a belief that the power of change exists in every human being. It was a gift that would forever change the way I approached Karate and my life. Ever since that day, I have come to appreciate the journeys that each student has taken to come to train in the dojo. Not just the drudgery of travel but the emotional obligation to make the decision to train. To commit. Everyday when some one needs a little extra motivation I think of – what’s his name. The angel of positive thinking. Yeah, the angel.

Fast forward to today. Uber couple du jour Dawood and Ayesha are training in the dojo. Together, they have lost well over 130 pounds since joining the dojo 3 years ago. They admit however that greater benefits of the dojo are found beyond the tangible measure of the scale but in the strengthening in the soul. In just a few days, Ayesha will be traveling to Morocco where she plans to hike for four days in the Sahara to bring awareness to and volunteer her time to build a school for young girls. The cause is vital to the community because the male dominated culture in Morocco systemically denies women an education and promotes the cycle of poverty and dependency. Without the tools of an education, women are stuck in a subservient role for the rest of their lives and for future generations. Like the angel of 1985, Ayesha prefers to go unnoticed. She is quiet and doesn’t say much. Like the angel of 1985, she has her own blisters and daily scars. Like the angel of 1985, Ayesha will be changing lives – of an entire community.

It was as though the angel himself is holding Ayesha’s hands. Without his touch, perhaps I would never have cultured such an atmosphere within the dojo. I might have gone purely sport karate and maybe even totally commercial. Instead, I had vowed to contribute to a better world. I hope I have done him justice. I hope that Ayesha changes the world these girls live in and I hope these girls one day contribute also to a better world. Perhaps one day these girls will grow up to be doctors or engineers. Perhaps one day my angel’s legs will be built by one of these young girls. Ayesha is their angel.

I wish I remembered my angel’s name.

Please be an angel to help a generation of Oulaid Driss visit http://aeww.org/mrcco.html and donate.

Shinobu/Nin Oct 2009

There are masters in title and then there are masters in heart. Master YAGI Meitetsu is a master in the heart. Every since a toddler, he witnessed his father (YAGI Meitoku Dai Sensei) lead a life of prestige as one of Okinawa’s premier Karate masters. Dai Sensei is revered for his unwavering  loyalty to Okinawa and its cultural distinction within Karate-Dou. In 1952, Dai Sensei was the first student of Chojun Miyagi to open a dojo officially under his own identity known as the Meibukan. Today its president, YAGI Meitetsu, recognizes the challenging task of filling his father’s shoes.

It is a summer evening and we are drenched from the strenuous training of Master YAGI and his son YAGI Ippei Sensei. The master calls us in to sit and gather around for session in philosophy. Out of respect, most of us sit in seiza – a kneeling position unnatural for those of us in the west. He tells a personal story of someone he knew in his early years who seemingly had everything going for him. His peers had high hopes for him in the future. Nevertheless, with such a gift of potential, his life was unexpectedly cut short. Tragically, the youth had taken his own life. Out of this unfortunate experience, Master YAGI had realized that while training to be physically strong is important for one’s health, so should the mind be equal in strength.

“We must endure.” Master YAGI concludes. “If something is too unbearable, just think to yourself that it is a challenge that God has found you worthy to overcome. If God believes in you, so should you. This shall give you strength.”

Our Master continues to explain the Kanji known to us as “NIN – 忍” or endure. He points to it as being 2 separate characters combined. The top one is of a knife and the bottom is heart. To endure feels like your heart is being pierced with a knife. As the son of Dai Sensei, he has witnessed his father experience many instances of NIN. Combined with his own, Master YAGI is very aware of what it takes to rise to the top within the world of Karate. The ability to endure hardship is one trait of a leader and anyone recognized as being great has always had to endure and overcome unimaginable challenges. Our teacher passionately shares these lessons with us in the pursuit of contributing to a better world.

Master YAGI is a Hanshi. He is a teacher of teachers and must also be exemplary in his role as the patriarch of our system. He embraces that challenges of his role as his destiny and takes to heart the lessons that he teaches us. He also wishes to be true to his father’s legacy. His lessons teach us of the silent battles that we must all overcome to help deal with the challenges in our daily lives. Even though we are all human and mistakes happen, we must remember that we have an opportunity everyday better ourselves.

He leaves us with the message, “Endure. Always endure.”

Somehow sitting in seiza doesn’t feel so difficult after all.

“You must act with dignity. People are always watching.” I find myself in belt purgatory as Master YAGI Meitetsu tutors me in my new role. My life as a godan is over and I have yet to settle into being a rokudan. This transition between ranks is different than my previous passages. Unlike other ranks, this one is marked with a title of Renshi and a new belt branded with a stripe since it is the first of the master grades. Just two weeks after my grading, I find myself at the prestigious World Karate Tournament in Okinawa, Japan representing the association at an official level. This is one such experience that would lead me to understand the depth of responsibility that someone with a master grade must embrace in order in contribute to the growth of an association.

I am wrapped in a new belt with its ends pointing uncontrollably vertical. Before, I could act in anonymity as just a black belt. Our black belt rank recognition system is simple. All dan ranks wear just plain or personalized black belts until reaching Renshi at 6th dan when the belt is marked with a single stripe at each end. Kyoshi level at 7th dan is marked with two stripes and Hanshi is noted with three. Hanshi titles can be bestowed at 8th or 9th dan and a 10th dan is always a Hanshi. This time there is no hiding behind a plain black belt. Like bunny ears on alert, the upright ends of my belt indicate to everyone that I hold the position of Renshi. “It is time to man up,” I think to myself and, with trepidation, I begin my belt`s inaugural display in the Budokan at the World Karate Tournament. As my peers begin to notice, I am greeted one by one with congratulatory wishes. There is no more anonymity and thus no more room for frivolity. *Note to self – I must now and forever, “Act with dignity…”*

On this day, from masters to minions, Karate fans from all over the world come to the main hall of the Budokan to learn from the various masters of Okinawa Karate. Master YAGI is among the top masters assigned to teach this afternoon. Assisting him are some of his core of instructors – Kawakami Tetsufumi Shihan, Ippei Yagi Sensei, Kenichi Takada, and a trio of foreign instructors. I am the junior of this foreign trio that includes Rajesh Thakkar Sensei of India and Johanes Wong Sensei of Australia. Master Yagi divides his group and assigns instructors to each of them. I begin to lead, when in my periphery to the right, I notice my actions being observed by Master Kuniyuki Kai, the Kaicho of my good friend’s (Ryusuke Juge, Sensei) association, Seibukan. It was an association that I had considered joining before committing to the Meibukan. The reality hits me, brutally like a mawashi geri to my mid-section that my performance as a teacher, as well as that of my peers, reflects greatly on the Meibukan Hombu Dojo. Since everywhere, there are video cameras from media and spectators, the viewership of our performance will be potentially judged worldwide. Great – all I need now is to be a blunder on YouTube. *Note to self – “…People are watching, …People are watching.”*

Master YAGI Meitetsu’s seminars are typically passionate, fast paced, and an experience to remember. This one is no exception and what is almost 2 hours seems only 45 minutes. Some participants meet with me afterward to arrange training times with our patriarch at the Hombu Dojo later on during the week. Pictures are taken and the significance of my belt seems no longer an issue as I meet with many individuals at a human level. I feel like the Energizer Bunny on extra voltage as I do my best to help everyone. As quickly as it started, it ends with the crowds of karate-ka fading away. I reflect, heading back to the hotel, that all ends well with no injuries, slip ups, blunders, or embarrassing moments of any kind. It is not so bad. Perhaps no one really cares and I am a bit sensitive over nothing. After all, it is the person that makes the belt and not the other way around. I am no longer in my dogi and everything is back to normal – or so it seems.

It is three o’clock in the afternoon. Out of my dogi and no longer in Okinawa, I feel completely anonymous in the crowded Narita Airport of Tokyo, Japan. I find a dark corner, sit on the floor, stretch my legs freely, turn my back to the crowd, and huddle in to work on my laptop. I feel refreshingly invisible. Engrossed in my work and comfortable, I am completely focused on getting my work done before boarding time. I can’t help but think however that someone keeps passing by me and looking behind my shoulders. “The nerve of some people,” I thought as I shook my head slightly. “Hello, Renshi Sensei.” I turn around to find an unfamiliar face. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I saw you teaching at the seminars.” I decipher a Hispanic accent. His white and blue t-shirt is boldly branded with Argentina on his back. He bows and then I bow – with dignity and offer him one of my business cards. As I look up, a team of his fellow Argentinian Karate athletes glance and look my way. Of the 6000 participants at the World Karate Tournament, there is no way that I could recognize them. Somehow they identified me from the event and in a crowded airport. I gather my laptop, sit on the chair that was once my makeshift table and continue to work in a newly dignified manner. *Note to self, “Gi or no gi, I must act with dignity. People are always watching me.”*

reprinted from my old blog at www.mmkdkancho.blogspot.com.

“I only want to challenge myself.”

Sensei Richard Verlaan of York’s Academy of Martial Arts responds to my jest of being in the same division as he is. Meeting our personal challenge is why we all compete amongst each other and to be judged by our peers. Mr. Verlaan strikes me as an intelligent person and in great shape. I, on the other hand, am far from in good shape and could lose a good 10 to 15 lbs. That’s a lot of weight on a 5 foot frame. I suppose my jest with Verlaan is the nervous way to deal with my uncertainty of a competitive outcome. At the end of the day however, all 5 of us who competed in the Master’s division (aka geriatric group) do so to test ourselves. This occasion is also shared with a Meibukan colleague, Richard Fall, who is a devoted martial artist and Sensei of the London Goju Club. We used to compete together in our twenties and on this day, almost 2 decades later, we again share a division. Like old times.

The Master’s division in Karate Ontario is designated only for those 40 years and older wanting to compete in Kata. Some provinces have both Kata and Kumite divisions. I suppose in their infinite wisdom, the Ontario board has decided that our athletes who are 40 years and older are not good enough when compared to the rest of Canada or other countries of the world. Not that I would do well in Kumite but many of my colleagues would and certainly wish to at least be given a chance challenge themselves in a competitive atmosphere. For me today though, as a kata man, I am happy. The 5 of us, who have decided to compete, come in a kaleidoscope of shapes and sizes. As the rest of us whisper aches of our knees, backs, or shoulders, Richard Verlaan graces his healthy being towards us. (LOL! Perhaps a comedy skit is in the making here.) He seems way too healthy. I am envious now. Maybe there should a separate division. One for the uber healthy over forty and another for the rest of us…or maybe I should quit complaining and do what I promised myself to do a few weeks ago – start training again.

“Rei,” commands the head referee.

The referees assume their position and wait for the first competitor to volunteer – patiently. No one wants to go first as it is usually a curse in most Karate tournaments. In most events, those who go first never seem to podium. Karate Ontario spends a lot of time and resources on their judges though. I know this from being on the board several years ago. So faithfully, I step on to the tatami to go first. As I do so, I realize that I have not practiced the Kata fully since being in Japan almost 2 months ago. My legs are a little shaky and my heart beats out of my throat. All sounds disappear with the exception of my breath. My focus narrows only to what is directly in front me.

“SeiPAI!”

I announced my kata and somehow everything else becomes a blur or even disappears. Nothing else exists except for me to complete my kata full out and ———————- before I knew, it was all over. It was like being in a trance. I survived and my back is still in good shape…feeling good. Recovering from my daze, the patchy sounds of the tournament become more distinguishable. In the corner of my eye, good friend Karl Sutton yells support. As much as I try, I can’t resist to glance at him and grin hoping the judges miss my lapse of focus. I hear the scores of 8.3, 8.1, and 7.9. What…huh…say again…. 7.9! I step back and get a look at this 7.9 judge. I recognize him as one of the good judges. Hmmm, I begin to doubt myself. Was it the curse?

Both Richard Fall and Richard Verlaan, are fellow Goju-Ryu practitioners who also performed outstandingly. We competed against 2 other powerful looking Shotokan athletes from Jennings Karate and Brad Jones Karate. The Senseis of both these clubs make up the chief coaching volunteers for the Ontario Karate Team. It was not an easy competition for us weekend warriors. As the scores tallied, I worried about that 7.9 and the first competitor myth. When the results come in  I ended up with a gold medal which, ironically enough, was presented to me by judge 7.9. Goju-Ryu was well represented taking first, second, and third. Hands are shaken, bows are made, and smiles shine as we exit the tatami. The feeble 5 relish in the adrenalin rushed euphoria of the moment before reality sets in. Some tested their nerves and other tested their skills. A few more referees, who have quite a lot of influence, were exposed to Meibukan Goju Ryu. All in all it was a positive experience. When our highs wither, we remain content because by entering the tournament, win or lose, we have all challenged ourselves in some way and exemplified sportsmanship for our juniors.

“You forgot a kiai at the double punch. Didn’t you?” Judge 7.9 approaches me with a friendly and man to man query.

He is dignified and well groomed with a salt and pepper crop. He could be movie star. This must have been the first time that he witnessed Meibukan Goju Ryu. Since karate is proliferated worldwide as a sport, I can understand why he wouldn’t have been exposed to Meibukan. For some reason, Meibukan practitioners are not known to compete. Not even among themselves. As a result, one of Okinawa’s original and historical schools of Karate goes obscure.

“No, in Meibukan, we don’t kiai at this point.” I respond honestly.

By the expression of his face, you can see the light bulb burn brightly in judge 7.9 when he realized he learned something new. Respectfully, he bowed and apologized for his misinterpretation. Classy! Just as I expected him to be. He is still in my good books. I return the bow with also a revelation of my own, that older guys like me have a role in competition. Not to win medals but to exemplify dignity, sportsmanship, and to represent our styles to the younger community of the Karate world. Next time though, I’ll train.