A Tale of Love and Loss

I’ve never been someone who covets personal possessions and always favoured a minimalist approach to material wealth.  One of the original attractions of karate was the lack of any need for equipment or expensive clothing; all that was required was a plain white karate gi (karate uniform affectionately known as pyjamas), an open mind and willing heart.That said, the karate and wider martial arts world, like most sports and leisure activities, have its fair share of accessories and adornments. Gi’s costing many £100’s if not more, gi’s of every colour and design, belts of quality and symbolism, medals, cups, badges, patches, weapons, weapon cases, the list is endless and manufacturers are quick to seize a marketing opportunity and tap into the popular culture of materialism and tribal identity.But for me none of this held any value and I revelled in the simple bliss of a plain white karate suit and belt. Nothing special, cheap but comfortable, and suitable for my needs.

After over 25 years of regular practice, in 2009 I was fortunate to be invited to a karate camp near Mount Fuji in Japan. My hosts were men who I respected enormously and held in the highest esteem, not only for their undoubted karate wisdom, but as human beings they possessed all the qualities I hold most dear, integrity, warmth, humility and an open, giving nature. 

During my stay, I felt honoured to be ceremonially presented with an unusual, personalised black belt. The kanji recorded my name and the occasion and was thoughtfully handed to me by Tetsuya Koibuchi Sensei and Isao Ariga sensei, men whose karate skill and wisdom is only eclipsed by their personal virtues.Japanese culture has a unique approach to quality; well made items such as the katana sword are appreciated, treasured and sometimes even revered.  So it was with my new belt. Purchased from a reputed supplier in Tokyo, traditionally made using a rare thread weaved carefully to form a belt which oozed quality. Wrapping it around my waist one could almost sense the craftsmanship and hours of labour needed for such a fine item. 

For the first time in my karate career I possessed something I valued and my emotional investment was intensified when news of the untimely death of one of the men who had passed it to me. Rest in Peace Isao Ariga sensei.

A handshake from the wonderful Isao Ariga Sensei

Returning to England from that first Japanese camp experience I proudly wore my new belt to every session. It became my constant companion, worn three or four times a week accompanying me when I taught and when I learnt; a fellow traveller in my bag as I practised my chosen art throughout Europe and Japan.So precious was this simple cloth belt that when writing my Will I informed the solicitor I wanted the belt to be bequeathed to my only son and kept in my family in perpetuity.

After nearly ten years, the constant tying and untying began to have an impact and the threads were becoming increasingly prominent. For many karate practitioners this overt display of use advertised their experience for all to see but for me thoughts of retiring such a precious object started to become louder.

Receiving the belt from Koibuchi Sensei

Each year I lead a residential weekend of karate training. Situated in the peaceful and scenic Gloucestershire countryside, the seminar allows for intensive and concentrated training for all those attending.  I decided that after the 2018 event I would retire my belt and preserve it for the future. Of course I would wear it on special occasions but I didn’t want to risk degrading the weave to such a point that the kanji and overall integrity of the material was compromised

One Sunday evening, a week prior to the annual Gloucestershire retreat, I taught my normal class of teenage students. The dojo for this particular Sunday was a school gymnasium; a regular and convenient location for many of the classes delivered by our club instructors.By 7pm the last student had departed and I gathered my belongings and headed for the door. It was an unusually warm and humid night but as usual I gave a last look around the room to ensure nothing had been left by students, parents or instructors.
Two days later I prepared for my regular evening class. Packing my bag I was surprised my belt was not in its usual place.  Time was against me so with no more thought I grabbed a spare and left for my class.  I have a young family and I was fairly sure one of the children had found daddy’s belt and used it as a slide or lasso or just thought it would be fun to hide it.

The next morning the continued absence of the belt spurred me into action and I began searching the house. One by one (I have four), I asked my son and daughters “have you seen or moved daddy’s karate belt?” They had not. At this point my concern became real. Could I have left it in the Sunday evening hall? The school caretaker, Martin, is a particularly helpful and friendly character. Still doubting the belt was truly lost and believing it was somewhere in my house I contacted him and requested he check the school for me.Twenty minutes later Martin called with bad news.My belt had been found on Monday morning by the school cleaner. She had handed it to a Physical Education teacher who had in turn left it in the school’s PE Office. Unfortunately a member of staff had little regard for the worn and threaded belt and threw it in the bin. In desperation I told Martin I would be willing to search the school bins to recover my precious item only to be told the bin had been emptied by the local authority and contents on their way to land fill.

And so my love affair with a piece of black cloth had come to an ignominious end and my dream of handing down a meaningful family heirloom was over. I was desperately sad and disappointed in the actions of the school staff who demonstrated little or no regard or empathy to the possibility the belt may have a value, financially or otherwise, but I guess one man’s treasure is another man’s trash. My seven year old daughter enquired why I was sad.  After explaining she said, “don’t worry dad I’ll make you a belt.”  The love from a child can never be underestimated and if she presented me with a piece of string to tie my trousers, I would treasure it, but I know nothing will replace what is lost. Life goes on but my karate life is a little poorer.

At my moment of greatest disappointment I’m reminded of the Buddhist creation and subsequent destruction of beautiful, complex and labour intensive Mandalas, an ancient Tibetan Buddhist tradition involving ritual geometric patterns made from coloured sand. After careful and intensive work by three or four monks, the sand is ceremonially swept up symbolising the impermanence of all that exists.

Emotional attachment to inanimate objects is endemic in our society. There is much wisdom to be found in the sand mandala.

Karate and an Older Woman

Fliss has been a regular karate practitioner for over a year. It's not been easy and many challenges lie ahead. Here's her story.

Karate and an Older Woman

Good grief, why karate? This is something that a few people have asked me since I started practising at the beginning of last year. The glib (but sort-of true) answer that I give them is “because my neighbour got me drunk and made me do it”.  She is a Yudansha who had taken a break, was thinking of restarting, wanted someone to go with her, and suggested this late on New Year’s Eve after plying me with as much alcohol as I usually drink in a whole year. My reactions dulled by a very pleasant sparkling Moscato or three, I didn’t say no quick enough.

Being a woman of a certain age, as the saying goes, I do care about maintaining my health - I am well into that stage of my life where it is a case of ‘use it or lose it’. Furthermore, I had a period of about 10 years or so - basically the whole of my 40s and early 50s - when I was quite unwell and totally unable to exercise, to the point where, for a while, even a flight of stairs was a challenge. Having recovered from that, I am especially grateful to have regained my fitness, it is a precious thing which I do not want to lose until I have to. I’m also spurred on by the fact that my mother’s family has a very dominant Alzheimer’s gene, so all of my generation have started to look at each other and ask ourselves, with wide eyes and worried voices, ‘who’s next?’. Whilst we cannot change those genes, there is plenty of research to suggest that regular exercise, and mental chal-lenge, help to delay the onset of that cruel disease.

So - I run regularly, to keep fit and hopefully to keep the dementia demons away for a while yet at least; but sometimes I crave variety. Yup, karate could tick that box - lower impact, different mus-cles, a challenge for balance and coordination, new learning so a mental challenge too, just the job. I had learned a little bit of a couple of other martial arts (judo and kendo) in my teens and 20s, even taught some generic basic self defence in my early 30s, and enjoyed these things so, even after I had woken up on January 1st, I thought “yes why not, I’ll give it a go”.

Meanwhile, something else that happened in my 40s was a traumatic event which, although I was physically unhurt, left me with very troublesome short term memory problems. After a year or so, it became clear that these were not going away. Luckily, around the same time that it became apparent that those problems were long term, smartphones hit the market, and mine has been of great value in enabling me to function pretty much normally; the bingly-bong of my alert tones have become the soundtrack to my daily life. Work - on the iPhone, wake UP, bingly-bong. Dental appointment - on the iPhone, time to leave, bingly-bong.  Karate class (which is exactly the same time every week but I could still forget given the chance) - on the iPhone, bingly-bong. You get the idea. I just have to remember to not leave the phone on silent. If there’s something I can’t put on the phone I can usually scribble a quick note there and then, so as long as I don’t lose that scrap of paper I get by.

But - I was totally unprepared for the challenge that karate presents. Physically, yes of course. Dif-ferent moves, shapes, precision, balancing skills (hmm, the less said about that the better!), using different muscles, accommodating a dodgy middle-aged spine; all of that is difficult enough, but no surprise. The fact that I run helps, there is at least some reasonable core fitness to fall back on. But mentally ... oh, my days! Mercy! I have to remember stuff! Immediately and without making notes! Words. Moves. A sequence. Details.... Anyone who has trained with me could - quite probably through gritted teeth - vouch for the fact that I learn slowly and get muddled constantly. I am al-ways grateful for the patience and kindness of my training partners and would take this opportunity to thank each of you for that patience and support. There are just so many people in the club who are good and generous in this way, it’s wonderful. Also, Zenshin’s video tutorials have been really helpful with learning kata because I can watch them and practice nearly every day and gradually - I think - some things are starting to sink in. It’s a very, very slow process.

Sarah, Rob, Fliss

But, karate is a mirror that shows us ourselves. How true. What it has made me do is face up to just how rubbish my memory is, which is easy to forget (ahaha) with the ready availability of the gadget in my pocket. Furthermore, what really gets me is just how that makes me feel - stupid, SO flustered, and panicky. It is seriously embarrassing being so forgetful! I felt so inadequate that I nearly didn’t come back after an unavoidable spring break for work reasons. But, my neighbour chivied me along and I did return. Every time there is a new thing to learn, or else a previously-learned thing to recall (i.e. one way or another, every class), I have at least a few, and sometimes many moments when I feel those nerves kick in, and I freeze, because my mind has gone blank yet again. Occasionally I could cry with frustration because it just won’t stick. It is also a challenge insofar as that as well as feeling stupid, I do also feel like a bit of a burden, and sometimes think I should stay away so that people can train with someone who is a bit less daft. But then I get selfish and think, well it is doing me some good, so I think you may be stuck with me for a while yet.

That may not be the most obvious thing for a person to be learning at a karate class - managing a bad memory and the feelings it generates. But I think it is a massively useful lesson for me to be learning, not least because as an issue, it is not about to go away, and I hadn’t really noticed how much it was getting in my way until I started classes.

People think of karate as being about self-defence. Being able to react to a threat or danger with something other than simple panic and freezing. And yes, for sure, it can do that. But for me, it is not about reducing the panic caused by a threat. It is about reducing the panic caused by having to remember stuff. A mirror to myself.

Thanks for reading