Punching Through Weakness: Karate Do Not

Karate has been an interesting journey that perfectly aligned in my life when it needed to. I continue to do yoga as a regular practice and live an active lifestyle. However, when I began Karate, I also found a community, a person who was crazy enough to coach me and a new series of skills that I had never learned. In terms of alignment, I needed to punch stuff and karate gave me stuff to punch. 

Learning new physical activities is my favourite activity. As my close friend says, I am the first person to try something new, I ask zero questions and go as hard as I can on the first try; guaranteeing frequent and often preventable injury. Karate is much the same; I go as hard as I can every time. This has led to, you guessed it, frequent and often preventable injury.

From Hot Pot to Karate Do Not

When I began Karate, I came in hot. A boiling pot and a hot mess all mashed into one person. I had a special kind of hot mess to me because I was reckless, aggressive, afraid to slow down and I had some psychological barriers that I had yet to meet up with face-to-face. Or should I say, fist-to-fist.

Weakness Revealed. Difficulty Being Human.

As I moved through the rainbow of belt colours, every step of the journey was equally as confusing to my coach as it was to me. Mostly, because I did not react like a regular human being. Gymnastics, combined with trauma, combined with my personality made me what I would call a ‘challenging case’. I’m still here (she’s still here). I’m not purposely resistant.

I was just born like this fuck.

Fighting to Reveal Weakness

Fighting to reveal my weakness has been really easy. It’s been my easiest fight. My coach, who we refer to as Sensei Soleil, has had to retrain many habits I’ve had since I told my mom, ‘hold my baby bottle and watch this’ (aw, my first vault over the couch). I have had similar experiences before, such as when my early yoga teachers had the poor luck of attempting to turn my decades’ long auto-pointed foot into a flexed foot. I felt rage. Guilt. I hated them.

Namaste Do Not

Some teachers came up and flexed my foot for me, as if I didn’t understand the instructions. I do speak English but I suppose in yoga, that’s an unknown variable given everyone says Namaste and otherwise, it’s essentially a silent, very recreational activity. 

A teacher might say gently, ‘and flex your foot….heel to the ceiling’ and I would think ‘go fuck yourself’. Then, the next attempt would be a more direct, ‘pull your toes toward your knees’. This was where the sleeping students would wake up and join in.

The Rage of a Flexed Foot

The teacher might say ‘Nadia, flex your foot’ and that was a very quick way of ensuring I was going to attempt it for one moment, then snap my foot back into a very tight point. This wasn’t out of spite (entirely) but because I authentically felt guilt, nausea and fear when I flexed my foot. Gymnasts do not flex their feet; it was a really hard barrier for me.

Yoga Do Not Touch

If the yoga teacher was idiotic enough to walk up to me, after all of the above has already occurred (you’ve told us, you’ve told me, you’ve tried you fix it….) and decided to flex my foot for me – oh man. Oh man oh man oh man. Not only did I internally flip out because do no touch but for goddsake do you think I don’t understand the how my fucking ankle works? I just did a crow pose and pressed to handstand but yes, ‘flex toes’ has me stumped. That was typically the end of the class. Sometimes for me. Sometimes for everyone.

I will, however, flex my feet if I am photobombing my parents. That’s worth it.

Punching Faces, Building Community

Martial arts has brought me new challenges and community of the best people ever. We have so much fun together, work really hard together and mostly, we practice promising to punch each other in the face. Big promises happening all class. Just last practice, I punched my good friend in the face (gently…). She’s such a great person and I love when we have bonding moments like that.

The Baggage I Bring to Karate

If you read my first article on Karate, you may remember this recreational, competitive activity that I do and have for a number of years now; I love it and hate it more and more each day. I bet I am such a fun person to coach.

If I had to be my coach, I’d tell myself I was uncoachable and to go watch some Youtube. Those who have coached me have either been saints or demons; every former demon has become an ultimate victim of mine. The saints remain in my life. Keeper or grime reaper; I can go either way.

It’s Coming – and Carry-On

They say to leave your baggage behind but I prefer to bring my baggage – emotional, psychological, previous trauma bag, scary dog bag, the jerky neighbour bag – all the baggage that I have comes with me anywhere I go. I would never want to forget any of it. I have a tragically good memory like that.

Themes. Themes That Matter.

As I was considering writing my second article about karate, there were so many topics I could cover. However, Sensei Soleil suggested I write about ‘how I responded to being corrected as an athlete.’

(all my former coaches are having a moment right now and YES I am aware of what I’m like, I karate-do live with me, you know)

I don’t know why she wanted me to write about this. It’s almost as if she had some secret motive… like self-reflection. If anything, this will just amplify my rage about my weaknesses. Get ready, my spaghetti. 

This is a fucking terrible plan.

Top 5 Responses to Corrections

I’ve considered the intricacies of my responses to being corrected in class and compiled a list of the top five ways I typically respond. For this list, we’ll use the correction I hear most often: “Move your hips.”

Response 1: Death Stare Confidence.

I snap my head sharply toward Sensei Soleil and look directly at her, halting all movement. I pause for just a moment and she assumes I am processing the correction so that I can try to move my hips. With a blank, dead stare I look directly in her eyes and say, “I am.” I then turn away from her and carry on with my life as if she does not exist.

Response 2: Anything Could Happen.

I slowly turn my head toward Sensei Soleil in a somewhat sinister, uncomfortably slow manner. I am frozen, like a karate statue, and my only movement is from the neck. I’m just short of the Exorcist. As my head slowly, slowly arrives to face her, I lock eyes with her. Out of nowhere, my left eyebrow launches up and nearly hits me in my own head. This messages conveys almost all of my emotions. No other part of my face moves. I turn away and continue karateing.

Response 3: Awesomer.

I begin moving what I think are my hips, attempting briefly to listen to Sensei Soleil. This is rare and when I do it, I go so hard. I move my hips back and forth anytime I need to generate power and as I am told to move my hips, I move them harder because I am already clearly moving them. I fully understand that my power, my canon, my blast off comes from my core and not my super charged limbs. As soon as I begin moving my hips, I feel much stronger. I’m awesomer.

Soleil appears beside me like she has apparated there. She physically moves my hips and I realize in that moment, sadly, that yet again my body has duped me. I am moving my abdominal muscles. In a snappy way. But those aren’t my fucking hips. I’m the same robot I always was. I notice the feeling of how new, impossible and abnormal it is to move my hips. I attempt it once. I feel defeat. It hurts too.

Response 4: Confirmed.

Similar to response 1 and 2, I freeze in my tracks and turn toward Soleil. Hips?! Wait. What.

Am I thinking about what she has said? Nothing in my head is arising. Hips…..move them…I wish that a concept, image or memory of some type would arise in my mind and remind me of what my hips are supposed to do in what moment. This is not intuitive for me. I need be walked through these things like a toddler (see response 3).

Eventually, it has been too long and she is either going to repeat her words, but louder, or look at me like I’m an idiot (I am). Right before that happens, I give an almost unperceivable nod. Confirmed. Over and out. Sometimes, this outcome even confuses myself. Sensei Soleil and I have no idea whether I understand, are processing or planning to try it or just flat out ignoring her. Or didn’t hear her. I might have noticed a squirrel. Anything could be happening. Do you give the correction again or wait and see how it shakes out? Glad I don’t coach me.

Response 5: Misguided Meltdown

I hear the correction and slowly look at Soleil. She is looking at me. I enter a panic-stricken mental spiral. My face begins to scrunch in fear, then shifts and my eyebrows come down as if I am offended.  Enraged even. Then, I tip my head sideways like a puppy and I can’t even remember the correction at that point.

Then I am sad because I don’t know what I am doing and I begin to look upset. Tears spring into my eyes. I stare upwards to make them suck back in. Sensei Soleil watches this entire performance occur in front of her without saying a word other than ‘hips’.

I look back at Soleil and very suddenly slip back to rage, slam the palm of my hands into my face, pretend to rip my skin off and yell, “I’M JUST SO ANGRY!” I am then moved to a different location in the gym. Further from the side where the children are on.

Karate Do

Occasionally, other things happen. I might actually move my hips. I might flee the building. More often than not, the above responses are my scary but authentic self being offered to my outstanding sensei and all my best dojo pals. You’re welcome, friends. Perhaps, they appreciate that no one, including me, knows what I am about to do.

KARATEING