The other day, my son asked my why I wanted to take martial arts in the first place. I was stunned. Not by the question, but by the fact I didn’t have an answer. I’d never even thought of asking the question.
Why martial arts? For most of the other things I do, I can point to an origin, a specific time when I looked at something and said “I want to do that.” Not martial arts. I didn’t grow up watching Bruce Lee or Hong Kong cinema. I never encountered it in Girl Scouts. My sports growing up were ice skating, swimming, and cycling. Nothing even remotely close to fighting of any kind. No one in my family had ever taken any kind of martial arts lessons. To the best of my knowledge, I’m the first person in my family to walk this path.
I wouldn’t be surprised to find that the media had worked on my subconscious growing up. While martial arts wasn’t pervasive in movies then (as it is now), there were media sources. Kung Fu – the series with David Carradine – played on TV, as did the cartoon series Hong Kong Phooey. The first Karate Kid movie came out the summer between my Junior and Senior years of high school. It probably influenced me, but I’d have hotly denied it at the time. But it was karate I chose as my first art in college, not kung fu, despite my fondness for the show.
Regardless of why I started, I know why I stayed in the martial arts. From the first day, it felt like my body was made for this. It hasn’t mattered what form I’ve tried – bo jutsu, karate, t’ai chi, taekwondo. Naturally, I’ve learned some parts of the arts more easily than others and I’m a long way from mastery of any of them. But even at age 42, I find martial arts so much easier to learn, especially compared to my other movement activity: bellydancing. I struggle through my Thursday night dance class* and flow through my Saturdays at the dojang. My body breathes a huge sigh of relief on Saturdays, like it’s saying “Okay, this I can learn.”
Being a martial artist is something that’s a part of the definition of who I am. It’s not just something I do. Even in the 10 years I didn’t actively train, I never stopped being a martial artist. I never stopped thinking of myself as one, even when it looked like my health would prevent me from returning. There’s no other physical activity I can say that about. I love everything about the arts – the ritual, the respect, the movement itself. I love the smell of the dojang as I enter, the feel of the mat under my feet, the way my uniform fits and moves with me. The dojang is a second home to me — right from the beginning, I felt like I belonged.
*For anyone interested, my bellydance teacher has a blog. You can find it at Stitching with a Shimmy.
Tags: bellydance, martial arts, media, Personal History, sports
