booandbunny

It’s a warm day, perhaps that’s why my skin feels so tight.
I swerve.
I slither.
I feel as though I’m cracking out of myself.
I feel as though my usual colors are dulled, but not for long.
I swerve.
I slither.
I am one long muscle.
I am working to free myself from this skin that feels too tight.
It itches.
I scratch.
It cracks.
I'm free from that old self.
I move beyond it.
My yellow, orange and black are darker than before.
My muscles are stronger than before.
I’m shedding bad habits, one at a time, and this brightens me.

There was an exciting development in our house last week. Mr. 6, who has been studying karate for about six months now, was told it was time to take a belt test. This meant his first one-on-one workout with sensei, the highest ranking teacher at the school. Mr. 6 was an odd combination of excited and nervous, but, as always, confident. He would be trying to show sensei that he knew enough to move from white belt to advanced white belt. In the style he studies there are solid belts, which show a certain proficiency, and striped belts (advanced white, for instance, which is white with yellow running through the center) that show a progression of knowledge, but not quite the next level of proficiency. Mr. 6 had a blast showing what he knows and sensei was so impressed he skipped Mr. 6 to the next solid color belt, yellow.

I was fascinated listening to this man who has taught public school as well as karate for several decades. The ease with which he spoke to a crowd, the ease with which he spoke to students of all ages and the pride he took in each of their abilities was beautiful.

As each group advancing came forward he had them show those gathered some of what they know. He talked about how a white belt means you’re pure, an open book, he said, ready to learn. And as you learn, he said, the belts become darker. He had my son, and each of the others, remove their belt after their demonstrations and lay them at their feet.

“Step over that,” he said to Mr. 6, whose gaze was fixed on the yellow belt in sensei’s hands. “You’re beyond that now.” And he presented my son with his yellow belt. I thought my son would burst with pride.

This idea of knowledge darkening our pages was interesting to me. So often darkness is used to describe something menacing, dangerous, evil. At the dojo, darkness means knowledge, a powerful, positive thing. And the darker the belt, the more powerful the body, the deeper the knowledge, the more positive the self image of the student who has earned it.

And, as I filled journal pages answering the questions Claudia posed last week and worked my way toward Meg’s question I kept coming back to the fact that we are all making big changes, darkening new pages with more words, more art, better images of ourselves. But even as we make these changes we find there is still more to know, another level to work toward.

We shed one skin, celebrate the new one for awhile, then realize that it, too, feels too tight. So we work our way out and discover what’s next.

“Sometimes you’ll have a student who’s really been working hard,” sensei said as he came to the 40-something mom advancing. “They’ll skip the striped belt and move to the next solid color.” (Here I felt an extra twinge of pride in my son.) “Put your belt down,” sensei said to her, unfolding an orange belt as she placed her yellow one at her feet.

“Step over that. You’re beyond it.”

// posted by HoBess @ 3/20/2006 11:08:00 AM