Tuesday, December 21, 2010 by C. Michial Jones
As I sit back and take stock of the past year—and of my life as a whole—the first realization that comes to me is how deeply blessed I am. I am fortunate to have a wonderful wife and three outstanding sons, and that truth stands at the center of everything else I have accomplished.
When I look at my life through the lens of martial arts, I arrive at the same conclusion. Without my wife, many things within the dojo simply would not get done, or certainly would not be done as well as they are. Amber has been instrumental in shaping much of what our students see and experience. While I wrote the kyu and yudansha training manuals, she designed, edited, and refined them into publications worthy of use. She maintains our student record books, ensuring they remain current and organized, and she designed the menjo certificates we present. These are only a few of the many responsibilities she quietly shoulders behind the scenes.
My sons, likewise, have become an indispensable part of the dojo. They are almost always on the training floor—training, assisting, teaching, and helping wherever needed. They have willingly stepped in to fill the void left by other yudansha, and this year they have taken on several classes of their own. Because of their commitment, our students now benefit from a consistent class schedule rather than the rotating format we often had due to my work obligations. They are also by my side during seminars and, more often than not, are the first to volunteer when I am exploring or testing something new.
Within the dojo, this year brought both change and growth. We lost two students who relocated, but we also welcomed five new students into training. This gives us the highest student count we have had since the closing of the Carmel dojo in 2001. We also held a yudansha gasshuku this year, and all but two of our black belts attended—some traveling from thousands of miles away to train together. It was a powerful reminder of the strength of our shared commitment.
Beyond that, my students are beginning to spread outward, opening dojo of their own, while additional dojo have joined our group. Collectively, this has expanded our presence into several states and into Canada. The outlook for the future is encouraging.
As for my personal training, I can look back over the year with satisfaction. I was able to devote several hours a day, five days a week, to my own development. In addition, I spent considerable time training privately with my sons, sharpening and refining together. I was also fortunate enough to spend time training with a couple of my own teachers. By every measure, it has been a productive and rewarding year for karate.
Looking back over the last thirty-four years of martial arts training, I realize that, like many others, I have gone through many phases. There have been times when I questioned why I was doing this—why I subjected myself to the physical punishment, the exhaustion, and the endless demands of training. There were moments when I seriously considered hanging up my obi, packing everything away, and walking from it all.
But I persevered.
I trained harder, pushed through the difficult seasons, and kept moving forward.
Over those many years I have had the good fortune to meet and share the floor with some truly exceptional karate-ka, and I have also met some who were far less admirable. I have trained under teachers who gave freely of themselves and their knowledge, and others who guarded every lesson behind a financial gate. I have been part of excellent organizations, and I have also found myself caught in poor ones, left carrying the burden when things fell apart.
I have had both small dojo and large dojo. I have watched students come and go. In earlier years, I took it personally when I invested deeply in a student only to watch them eventually quit. Time has taught me otherwise. Life intervenes, circumstances change, and karate is not meant for everyone. Each person walks this path in his or her own way. Sometimes you are guided. Sometimes you walk alone. At other times, you may find yourself surrounded by companions—or even followers.
Budo, in many respects, is a selfish pursuit. In the end, it can only truly be done for oneself.
What I have come to understand most clearly is this: it is the journey, not the destination, that matters.
The teacher-student relationship is what gives this journey meaning.
Rank, by comparison, is often arbitrary. Its true value exists only within the relationship between teacher and student inside the dojo. I have seen green belts with more practical skill than fifth dans, and first dans with more understanding than tenth dans. I have seen instructors hoard rank as though it were the Holy Grail, while others have handed it out like Halloween candy.
While I have never been one to casually award rank, I must admit that I have often been guilty of the opposite failing—not testing students simply because I become so immersed in training that I overlook how long someone has remained at a particular grade. That is something I intend to improve. If a student is qualified, has earned advancement, and is ready, then that achievement should be recognized.
As I grow older, I understand more deeply the sacred responsibility between teacher and student. In my dojo, I will continue to strive to preserve that family atmosphere that has always meant so much to me. And though I may never consider myself fully qualified, I will continue to do my best to be a good teacher.
My personal life, like my martial life, has seen both highs and lows this year. Financial pressures have certainly weighed heavily on my family, but we continue to endure. I lost another grandfather this year, and I regret not having spent more time with him while I had the chance. All of my children suffered sports-related injuries—some of them major and life-altering—but they are alive, and for that I am profoundly grateful. My wife and I remain in good health, and that too is a blessing not taken lightly.
As I come to the close of another year and stand at the threshold of a new one, I do so with renewed determination.
I will endeavor to be a better husband and father.
I will endeavor to train harder.
I will endeavor to become a better teacher and, just as importantly, a better student.
For that, after all these years, is still the true path.
No responses yet