I am a martial artist. This is something I generally keep to myself, despite the way it's become a large part of my life. Sometimes I wonder why I'm so cagey about it. Why should I be? It's a good thing, a way of life that has kept me going through some very rough times.
Part of the reason is that I am an introvert, and don't like to tell people everything about myself. But another part of me knows that most people do not understand that when I say "I do karate" what I really mean is "I practice the way" - because Karate-do is translated as 'the way of the empty fist', and the school which I practice in is Kyu Shin Ryu, or 'a place to learn mastery' over all aspects of self - mind, body, and spirit.
What I learn from karate is far more than just self-defense or how to
end a fight. I have struggled to learn grace, timing, and precision.
These skills carry over into all aspects of my life. More important even than
these, however, are the courtesy, kindness, strength of will, and calm
that I have cultivated through years of persistent effort.
The way is never easy. It means that I must strive to continue on, even when my body is about to give out, when all that's left in me is determination. It means learning when to move and how, gaining mastery of my mind so that I can concentrate completely on the task at hand, honing my spirit so that as I sharpen my sense of justice I also gain compassion for the world. It means learning patience. It is a never ending struggle, and that is just how it should be.
There is another way which I also love, which the way of martial arts helps me understand more clearly. It is a strait and narrow path, 'strait' meaning difficult and bewildering, full of distress and hardship. But the end of that road is eternal life.
That way requires me to 'press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men.' Now, sometimes I don't feel very much love for anyone, so this can be a hard commandment for me! But if I have learned one thing from my time in martial arts, it is to never give up. There are days when all I want is to quit - to just give up and let everything go. Yet I cannot, because I know there is an end to that rough road, even if I can't quite see it yet. And I suspect that the very roughness will make the sights at the end of that road more glorious than I can imagine.
For now, I can only remind myself that 'it is better to move slowly than to stand still', and that when it seems that I'm making no progress in anything, it may be that it's my foundation that's growing, getting stronger and surer so that all that is built on it will be solid and true. That is my hope, anyway.
The way is open to anyone who is willing to travel it. There are not many who try. Are you one of those few?
Wednesday, April 27, 2016
Thursday, April 7, 2016
Admiration
Dear Mr. Tolkien,
My parents read to me since before I could remember. One of the books I loved best began with, "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit . . ." and when I learned to read, it was one of the first that I squirreled away into a corner to discover on my own. I read with delight of Elves and Eagles, riddles in the dark and maps that showed their full tale only by moonlight, and a hobbit whose size did not determine his bravery, but instead magnified it, for all he was so very small in a very large and confusing world.
The summer of my seventh or eighth year was spent traveling - across country and through books. My mother, knowing that I loved to read, bought a complete copy of The Lord of the Rings, and I seem to recall little of the trip, for I was immersed in the old, slow world of the Ents; the fierce archaic culture of the Rohirrim; the immeasurable sadness of the Elves whose time is ended; and the high, valorous halls of Gondor, almost at the point of failing yet ready to flower. I learned again the meaning of the words green and silver and sable, and constructed for myself through your story the meanings of other words such as truth and light and courage.
I have read and reread your books nearly ever year since then, and always I find more good things in them than I did the time before. Now that I understand a little more of the world, I think I see a little better the reason that my heart aches when I read of the rejoicing in the field of Cormallen as Sam and Frodo sit in honor beside the King. Your stories have brought back some few memories which I never had, and yet which are stamped in the very deepest part of my soul.
As I read of Sam seeing, through the reek of Mordor, a single star, I am reminded that, "in the end the Shadow [is] only a small and passing thing: there [is] light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach." That thought has saved me and helped me to remember to look up when my small troubles seem too much to bear.
So thank you. Thank you for teaching me not to despise the past, but instead to learn from it. Thank you for showing me that 'even the smallest person can change the course of the future'. Thank you for showing me that words can mean something. For all of these things, I am grateful beyond my ability to express.
Sincerely, Emily
My parents read to me since before I could remember. One of the books I loved best began with, "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit . . ." and when I learned to read, it was one of the first that I squirreled away into a corner to discover on my own. I read with delight of Elves and Eagles, riddles in the dark and maps that showed their full tale only by moonlight, and a hobbit whose size did not determine his bravery, but instead magnified it, for all he was so very small in a very large and confusing world.
The summer of my seventh or eighth year was spent traveling - across country and through books. My mother, knowing that I loved to read, bought a complete copy of The Lord of the Rings, and I seem to recall little of the trip, for I was immersed in the old, slow world of the Ents; the fierce archaic culture of the Rohirrim; the immeasurable sadness of the Elves whose time is ended; and the high, valorous halls of Gondor, almost at the point of failing yet ready to flower. I learned again the meaning of the words green and silver and sable, and constructed for myself through your story the meanings of other words such as truth and light and courage.
I have read and reread your books nearly ever year since then, and always I find more good things in them than I did the time before. Now that I understand a little more of the world, I think I see a little better the reason that my heart aches when I read of the rejoicing in the field of Cormallen as Sam and Frodo sit in honor beside the King. Your stories have brought back some few memories which I never had, and yet which are stamped in the very deepest part of my soul.
As I read of Sam seeing, through the reek of Mordor, a single star, I am reminded that, "in the end the Shadow [is] only a small and passing thing: there [is] light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach." That thought has saved me and helped me to remember to look up when my small troubles seem too much to bear.
So thank you. Thank you for teaching me not to despise the past, but instead to learn from it. Thank you for showing me that 'even the smallest person can change the course of the future'. Thank you for showing me that words can mean something. For all of these things, I am grateful beyond my ability to express.
Sincerely, Emily
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)