Am I really a martial artist?
I was introduced to regular training as a university student. I always trained throughout school, whether there was clinical or classroom work going on. But, my school made training possible. Before school, I had a job where violence was expected and practice opportunities where plentiful.
I didn't want that life.
I graduated with my first degree, and I taught Tai Chi during that time in the town where I went to high school. I had an opportunity to enlist after that, and I went in another direction again. I had a chance to open my own dojo, and I did not do that either. I went into nursing, which got me closer to my first dojo instead. I moved to another town for a semester as nursing school required it, and I inherited a dojo there - then I left to finish schooling though I had an opportunity to stay. I never returned there, because I didn't care for the hospital there.
I went to my first summer camp when then Waka Sensei, the grandson of the founder of Aikido, was teaching in North America. I made nearly every class and pushed through the pain. I kept waiting for something to make the whole experience - I don't know what. Enlightening? Consciousness expanding? Something special, not just more of the same. Something Fulfilling. I remember the seminar coming to an end and spending a day in a street cafe in Toronto, feeling depleted. I had just had the week of my dreams, all training and dedicated to martial arts - and I felt empty.
My own enlightenment: I had thought I wanted to travel to Japan or China, drop out of life and train for eight hours a day. If 100 breakfalls felt good, then a bazillion had to be a near religious experience. I had heard so many comments about how total dedication to severe training was a transcending experience. I tried it, and I didn't enjoy it very much. I was disappointed in myself to realize it.
I could push myself harder and further; I could eat bitter. It didn't feel meaningful. I had held a baby in the first minute of it's life, I had saved someone's life, I had hugged a woman whose husband had just stopped breathing. I had experienced how cancer was a life changing experience for an entire family, and I knew it was a privilege to do this work. This was meaningful to me.
I took a shift work job to stay in the town where my dojo was, and I found a position in Oncology. It was a great fit, but there was a lot of general medicine work. I left that dojo where I was a senior to go to a town where I could work at a cancer center.
I decided I hated that cancer center job, but I didn't have a full time job waiting for me at any of the cities with large dojos in my association. I could have taken other jobs, or lower paying part-time jobs. I could have done something else to pay the minimal Uchi Deshi bills, like flipping burgers or driving a cab but I was looking for something in Oncology. I probably could have made it work, but I didn't really try. I wanted to work in a good facility, in my chosen field.
I knew my teacher was in Western Canada, but I took the full time medical oncology position on the US southeast coast. I was always going to be there temporarily - but my Sensei died long before I ever made the effort to return home.
I do train every day - meditation, contemplation, endurance training, stretching, researching - but not all the same things every day. Another facet of my life might get more focus than the others for a day, and over months things balance out. I enjoy training and I embrace it, but when I come across issues in my daily life I think like a nurse - I do my own assessments, and I take the responsibility of thinking for myself. I advocate for a course of action when I see the need, and I develop my own plans. I hold myself and others accountable. I work to my standard; the standard I have to live with.
If the physician says, orders, or does something I find questionable; my loyalty and duty is first to the patient, my profession, and the facility. I don't change my mindset just because someone is wearing a black belt instead of a white lab coat. It has made for more controversy than I want as a student, but loyalty and honesty are two very different things. Given the choice, I will be honest. I do the work to back up my questions, and I find a supportable plan based on research.
Like many people, I tried to stay on Sensei's good side. He was careful to never reward loyalty and dedication. It caused frustrations all around him, because people believed they had "earned" better from him. I think he was making sure we were aware that there were no rewards in the life he chose for himself. He lived very simply and on his own. He took many gifts of money, but never seemed to spend much. After his death it was found he had willed thousands of dollars back to his association - he never took payment so much as he saved the money to give back to his students. Even given the opportunity to live a better life, he denied himself for his students.
He kept his secrets in the open. You want a good Yonkyo? Do Yonkyo 100 times a day to a partner for a hundred days. Better stances? Standing meditation, start with ten minutes a day, then work up to 30 minutes a day while working up to narrower stances. You want to be good with a sword? Cut with a sword a hundred times a day, every day for 100 days. Strikes? 100 a day for a 100 days, work up to adding resistance. There were no secrets - if you wanted an ability, there was a recipe to acquire it. He shared the recipes freely, knowing quite well how few would even try them. He did not demand it, we had to make the choice. And, he always knew who made the choice to train.
I am not him. He left his home and everything familiar in Japan to live his dedication to his art and his students. I do not have that singleminded devotion. I sleep in on my days off. I like to eat. Some days I get lazy. Some aspects of me, I am not proud of. I am not driven to continue his art and his lineage - and I am disappointed to realize few are in the world. His style will vanish, and I will mourn that and him, while I make no effort to rectify the situation.
Some decisions I can live with. If a patient is suffering, but staying later means I will be late for class, I will stay at work. I missed training with an 8th degree black belt from Tokyo in the last year because I was to receive a nursing award the same day. If I start to drive myself in training, I will remind myself I have a clinic to run in the morning. A hard Kotegaeshi or Nikyo could interfere with my ability to start an IV, or do a dressing. I have not forgotten what I, not so much decided, but rather discovered was meaningful to me years ago.
I remember watching a Zatochi movie with Sensei one night. He was excited, and told me it was one of his favorites. He got particularily excited at one scene and let me know it. "Listen!" Zatochi was facing off with a samurai who was sworn to kill an artist who had been kidnapped and forced to make pornographic art. The artist was being killed for staying alive by capitulating. Zatochi had freed him and killed his captors, and was going to return the father to his young son. "They have a chance for happiness!" The samurai refused to budge - his honour, no matter how badly directed, was at stake.
Zatoichi's sword came up. "Samurai are selfish. They care only about their honour, and nothing about human beings."
Sensei sat up straighter, he smiled and his eyes glittered. "John, you understand?"
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