In a week I’m testing again for my next belt rank, which will put me at 3rd gup (blue belt with a red stripe). I find I’m testing much more frequently now than I was when I first started. I’m still making sure I actually feel ready to test before I do so, but I’m finding it takes less time for me to reach that point than it used to.

It’s only been two months since I achieved my blue belt and I honestly didn’t think I’d be ready again this soon. But there really wasn’t much that’s new to learn and the masters were telling me I was ready to test last month.

Now that I’m well past the half-way point to my black belt, I’m feeling a real drive to reach it as soon as I reasonably can. But I don’t want to do it at the expense of my skills. I don’t want to rush through it and not really learn the skill I need to for the  next rank.

It’s odd. I never used to feel this push for a black belt. When I first started studying martial arts, over 20 years ago, I honestly never thought much about my black belt. I mean, I always figured I’d eventually get it, but it wasn’t my primary motivation. Something’s changed and it’s done so very recently. And it’s not pressure from the school.

No, this pressure, this drive is coming from inside me. I guess it’s because a black belt is the “price of admission” to where I really want to take my art. Pretty much all of my peers on our school’s Leadership Team are black belts and I find myself yearning to train on their level. I can’t judge competitions or rank testings until I earn my black belt Also–and I think this is the really important reason–I can’t become a full instructor until I gain my black belt. And I’m discovering that I really love teaching. My friends and family tell me there’s brightness in my eyes since I started assisting with classes and I that I just generally seem happier.

When I first started training all those years ago, before a bad marriage and incapacitating illness, getting a black belt seemed like the end of my martial arts journey. This time, it feels more like the beginning of it. I’m finding myself wanting to rush through these preliminary color belts so I can begin my real training. It’s like I’m in preschool eagerly waiting until I can begin kindergarten and real school.

But then none of the other schools I’ve been at have so many classes and opportunities for people after they’ve achieved their black belts.

As a side note, I’ve been asked (though I’m not really sure that’s a strong enough word) to audition for the school’s demonstration team next month. I’ll let y’all know how it goes.

Other Related Posts

• Do You Need a Black Belt?
• Belt Ranks: Markers of Recovery

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• Black Belt Superpowers (justathoughtmmra.blogspot.com)
• Martial Arts Belt Rankings; Are They Worth Anything Today? (myselfdefenseblog.com)
• Think About The Why (justathoughtmmra.blogspot.com)
• What’s in a Belt? (memoirsofagrasshopper.blogspot.com)
• Tuesday Tip: Preparing For Black Belt Testing (justathoughtmmra.blogspot.com)

Our obligations as martial artists

This is a tricky subject for the average person. If we are obligated, how much are we obligated to give? If we see a hungry beggar on the street, are we obligated to give him money? How much money? Maybe we should just give him some food. What kind of food, how much food?

This becomes even more complicated when we consider out duties as martial artists. Many style, including Tae Kwon Do, expect their student to “give back” to their community. That is, I think, a deliberately vague term. It allows each person to define for themselves how and what. But how do we know when we’ve given enough?

What is real help?

And this brings us to a second point: who defines what appropriate help is? The giver or the receiver? Many of us believe that those begging for food are really only interested in money they can use to further an addiction — be that drugs, alcohol, gambling, whatever. In these type of cases, I think most of us (myself included) feel justified in not giving money. I’ve sometimes given food to beggars instead of  money. Some were grateful, most were not. In all cases, however, I gave them what they seemed to be asking for.

On the other hand, there are situation like I once faced. While I was pregnant with Dynamo, I was on food stamps, WIC, welfare, etc. All people on those programs are expected to participate in government food handouts. Not a bad rule, on the surface. But many of those handouts consist of cheese and I’m rather severly allergic to milk. I had Food Stamps breathing down my neck because I was “refusing aid”. Now, I could take the cheese, give it to someone else who could eat it and everything would be hunky dorry, as far as Food Stamps were concerned. But I was also forbidden by the program requirements not to share that food with people other than my immediate family. Needless to say, I couldn’t get off welfare fast enough to suit me.

Healthy boundaries

There is also the dilemma of how much to give? As women, we tend to give more than we ought to. Men are (in my opinion) better, on the whole, at setting boundaries, particularly when it comes to money. They seem to know better than we do about how much they have and how much they’re able to give away without injuring themselves. I think women need to learn this skill.

How about you? Are we as martial artists obligated to “give back”? Please leave your answers in the comments.

Note — this is an updated version of one of my earliest posts: Balance. I wasn’t really happy with the way that post came out and I’ve learned so much about blogging in the last six months, I thought I’d take another crack at it.

What is balance?

The dictionary defines ‘balance’ as:

bal.ance n. 1. a weighing apparatus with two scales or pans hanging from a crossbar. 2. the regulating apparatus of a clock. 3. an even distribution of weight or amount, a steady position or state. 4. the difference between credits and debits. 5. money remaining after payment of a debt. v. 1. consider by comparing. 2. to be or put or keep (a thing) in a state of balance. 3. to compare the debits and credits of (an account) in a state of balance and make the entry needed to equalize these, to have these equal.
– The Oxford American Dictionary

What does ‘balance’ mean to you? It means several different things to me. There’s physical balance, keeping our weight even, and emotional balance, noting our emotions without letting them overwhelm us. Each affects the other in amazing ways. I find that when I’m emotionally balanced, my physical balance improves. Conversely, as I work on my physical balance, my emotional balance improves, as well.

The “too busy” trap

Unfortunately, I’m not always (dare is say even “frequently”?) balanced. When I get busy or life becomes difficult for one reason or another, I tend to stop doing the very things that would help me through these difficulties and keep me balanced. “I’m just too busy — I can’t fit it into my schedule” or, more frequently when I’m really stressed, “It’s not on my [to do] list.” And that’s when all the areas of my life start to unravel.

That’s when I have to force myself to make time for balance. I mean, I know that if take the 5-15 minutes each day to meditate, draw, or do poomse, I’ll be better able to deal with the hard parts. I know I wouldn’t feel so overwhelmed by them. Yet, more often than not, I find myself falling into the “too busy” trap. So I end up having to take an entire day out of a week instead of the 2 or so hours I would’ve needed if I had actually taken care of myself. What can you do?

Getting out without gnawing off your leg

For me, I have to find ways to force myself to take the time. My biggest self-care item is martial arts. I know that once I get to the dojang, I’ll feel better and be glad I went. Sometimes getting there is a challenge, though, especially on days where Dynamo’s at his dad’s; it’s so much easier to get motivated to go when you’ve got a child bouncing off the walls from too much pent-up energy.

Plus, just seeing someone else out on the mats makes me chomp at the bit to get out there myself. Recently I’ve been getting martial arts DVDs from Netflix. They’re great inspiration for me. The other motivator is my dojang tution. when I see the bill every month, I think “Well, since I’m paying for it, I should get my money’s worth.” Plus, by paying for something, I feel more obligated to follow through. My brain tells me that not only is the paid for activity okay, but that it’s actually required. It’s a way I get around the guilt feelings — the ‘guilties’ — that inevitably arise when I try to take downtime.

Overcoming the ‘guilties’

And that’s the core of the matter: guilt. I know I need the other activities (besides tae kwon do) that help me stay balanced: yoga, drawing, painting, t’ai chi and others. Yet, I still feel guilty for taking the time away from the mountain of work and the pile of “must do”s. Which is, of course, exactly when I need to do it the most.

Part of the guilt comes from the conditioning I received as a woman in our culture. Women are taught to take care of others first and only then, if there’s any time left over, we can tend to ourselves. Of course, there’s never any time left over. Kids and pets will always need our attention and care, housework is never completely done (by it’s very nature), and our SOs deserve our time and attention. It’s so easy to put these other needs first in our lives.

So I’m asking for advice. What do you do to keep yourself balanced and how do you overcome the guilties? How do you motivate yourself when you don’t think you can justify the time, expense, or what-not of your balancing activities?

con.cen.tra.tion n.  exclusive attention to one object; close mental application.
– Dictionary.com

I don’t think there’s anyone who would argue that martial arts doesn’t take concentration. Forms, in particular, take concentration — to execute a form successfully, you need to focus on your movement, focus on your intent. When the masters my school speak of concentration, they’re talking this focus.

But there’s another usage of the word concentration – as in a concentrated liquid. To attain a concentrated substance, the water or solvent used to dilute it is removed, frequently by boiling, leaving behind a larger amount of the substance per unit of volume. Concentration can be done to make a substance more pure or, as with essential oils, more potent.

While we definitely need to focus on our training, at least while we’re on the mat, our workouts can cause us to become stronger. By concentrating on our practice, we cut the chatter in our minds that dilutes our abilities, making our intent and our wills — at least for the time we’re actively training — more potent and more pure. And each time we practice “boiling away” our distractions, we become better at it. We can take this new skill and apply it to the other areas of our lives, using it with our jobs, with our children, etc. I think that can’t but help us be better in our lives outside the dojang.

Related Posts:

• Black Belt Skill: Honor

When I first started martial arts, being a black belt was something I figured would come with time. I was in no hurry and I held what, at the time, I considered the “correct” attitude towards the idea — the color of my belt didn’t matter, only my skills did. At least, that’s what I told myself, though in reality I prized each new belt and looked forward eagerly to gaining my next one. This time, however, I look at the idea of a black belt very differently.

White Tiger encourages its students to view attaining a black belt like attaining a college degree. You put in four years of effort and your black belt is your “diploma” — a measure of what you’ve learned and the level of your skills. In my opinion, that’s how it should be. A measure of your skill level.  I’ve heard it said that you only start your real training after you’ve received your black belt, that all the colored belts are merely introductory steps to build the necessary foundation skills.

But a black belt also frequently confers another ability: the right to teach. Indeed, in many schools, black belts are expected to share at least some of the teaching duties. And that’s why I’m pursuing my black belt. I want to take what I’ve learned in the dojang, combine it with my life experiences and teach women and girls how to apply the skills of martial arts to their lives as a whole. I want to teach them how and when to defend themselves, even when it’s against someone they love. And I want to pass on my art.

Which is not to say that’s the only reason I’m pursuing my black belt. I’m also a person driven by the desire to master whatever I do. Not just get good at it — completely master it. The problem is, I often don’t know when I’ve achieved that level. I tend to equate mastery with knowing everything about a subject, an impossible goal. One of the things I love about the martial arts belt system is that I have a visible reminder of my skill level. I think women tend to undervalue their skills; I know I do.This undervaluing of our abilities is different from the “beginner’s mind” concept which has worked its way into martial arts from Buddhism. It’s not about approaching something with humility and eagerness; it’s about devaluing our own worth.

But everytime I tie my belt around my waist, I have an external reminder of the true level of my skills. It doesn’t matter that it’s yellow — it doesn’t even matter that it was once blue. What matters is that I have an objective rating of my skill level. It’s much harder for me to say “Oh, I don’t really know that much about it” or “I’m not really that good at it” when I’m wearing something I’ve earned that says otherwise.

Do you need a black belt? I think that’s a question each person needs to answer for themselves. For me, the answer is absolutely yes.

How about you? Why do you want a black belt or, if you already have one, what drove you to attain it? If I get enough responses, I’ll write a “x reasons for gaining a black belt” post, listing your comments.

Related Posts:

• Belt Ranks: Markers of Recovery

hon.or n. honesty, fairness, or integrity in one’s beliefs and actions. v. 1. to hold in honor or high respect; revere. 2. to treat with honor. 3. to confer honor or a distinction upon. 4. to show a courteous regard for.

– Dictionary.com

Honor is an integral part of martial arts. We honor our school by bowing on entering and leaving. We honor our masters and instructors by bowing, listening and following their instructions. But martial arts promotes more than the outward show of honor.

As martial artists, we need to cultivate honor in ourselves. Our behavior inside and outside the school determines and demonstrates our honor. We can be considered honorable by keeping our word, by being truthful and by acting with integrity. (I discuss integrity in this blog post). When we confer honor on another, we show our own sense of honor.

As women, we’re very good at conferring honor on others. Where we tend to fall down is in honoring ourselves, particularly if we’re recovering from an abusive background. We need to remember that we, ourselves are worthy of honor

In the martial arts, a certain amount of honor comes your way simply from the color of your belt or years of experience. And most black belts and masters deserve this regard. However, I have known a few black belts who take their rank as a license to do what they please. Luckily, these are few and far between and while most students obey them on the mats, they do not honor them. To be treated with honor, we must act with honor.

Unless we are new beginners, we must remember there are students of lower experience and rank who look up to us and view us a role models. We should be conscious of this and conduct ourselves accordingly. Even at a lowly 7th gup (yellow belt with green stripe), I and everyone else at my rank provide role models for the yellow belts, white belts with yellow stripes, and white belts. We should model honor, both in our own behavior and in conferring it to those who deserve it. This becomes especially true if we take classes that have children in them.

Related posts:

• Black Belt Skill: Concentration
• Integrity

in.dom.i.ta.ble adj: having an unyielding spirit, stubbornly persistent when faced with difficulty or opposition.
– Oxford American Dictionary

Many female martial artists show indomitable spirit just by walking in the door of their school for the first time. It can be daunting to face the reactions of friends and family who start firing questions at us as soon as the word “martial arts” is mentioned. The biggest questions, of course, is the “Why?” question — as in, “Why, on Earth, would you want to do that!?” Many women face difficulties that men (usually) don’t have to even think about.

One of these difficulties is pregnancy. The choice to train or not while pregnant is a choice each woman has to make on her own and for each pregnancy. I couldn’t train while I carried Dynamo; I had a high-risk pregnancy and was on bed rest for part of it and restricted activity for the rest. I wasn’t even supposed to wash dishes! Like the work outside/stay at home quandary, I’ve seen women berated for both options. Either choice — to train or not to train — can bring require indomitable spirit.

Returning to the dojang after giving birth takes even more. Then there’s the added responsibility of the day-to-day chores and childcare. What do you do with a toddler while you’re training? White Tiger offers on-site, free childcare during lessons so both parents can train equally. Smaller schools may not have this luxury, but it would be helpful if they could offer some cooperative service, such as parents (male and female) in the class taking turns watching all the students’ kids. But even that can be difficult to arrange, if you’re the only one there with kids.

I touched on the difficulties women can face in my “Perseverance” post below. I think perseverance and indomitable spirit go hand and hand. For some women, it takes indomitable spirit to show up for each class. It can feel like you’re a lone voice in the wilderness calling out “Hello? Anyone out there?” It certainly felt that way to me in high school, when I first realized I wanted to do this thing called “martial arts”.

Then there’s the “lone voice” problem of being the only woman in the class. Far too many of us have had to face classes where we’re not wanted. Sometimes we have to face the assumption that all female martial artists are lesbians. This makes us (in their eyes) not “real” women, as if being attracted to men is the sole criteria to be female. Conversely, other women have run head-to-head with the belief they’re only there to meet men. In either case, it gives men who are uncomfortable with the idea of a fighting woman a way to dismiss us so we become much less of a threat.

These issues aren’t going to go away on their own; we need to openly challenge them. The last ten years have seen a huge increase in the number of women studying martial arts. This, in turn, has made the road easier for more women and many of these attitudes are — slowly — fading. Hopefully, our daughters and granddaughters won’t need to have indomitable spirit just to walk in the door.

self-con.trol n: control over one’s own impulses, emotions, or actions.
–Webster’s Dictionary

Okay, I admit it. Self-control is one of the main reasons I enrolled Dynamo in taekwondo. He’s struggled with self-control … well, basically since he’s been born. He tends to lash out in anger over the smallest things. I’ve talked to several men who’ve gone into martial arts for this reason – to help them learn to control their anger.

Anger isn’t just a man’s problem; women need to learn to control their anger, too. But too many times, women need a more literal definition of self-control: control of your self, your body. It’s no easy task for someone coming from an abusive background to feel like they own their own body. Just before I left him, my ex was telling me how I should wear my hair, what kind of clothes I should be wearing, etc. He wouldn’t come out directly and say it, but he would withdraw from me even more than usual if I wore something he didn’t approve of.

Survivors of sexual abuse – male or female – face even tougher challenges to owning their own bodies. It’s taken many years for me to feel like my body is actually part of me. To survive, I had to disconnect myself from my body, to see it as just a “thing”, in the same category as a lamp or the sheets on my bed. I firmly believe it’s been martial arts which has allowed to me reclaim my body for myself. To control my body, I need to be fully present in it. Plus, as I’ve learned to control my muscles, I’m beginning to feel like I’m truly the one in charge. I’ve learned to say “no” to unwanted touching. I’ve learned that I am capable of controlling myself.

Next post: Indomitable Spirit

per.se.ver.ance n: steady persistence in a course of action, a purpose, a state, etc., esp. in spite of difficulties, obstacles, or discouragement.
– Dictionary.com

Training for any martial art requires perseverance. There’s usually a rush of enthusiasm at the beginning: it’s all exciting and new. Your body can do things you never knew it could. When Dynamo first started, he practiced day and night. He wanted to be at the dojang every night; he ate, lived, breathed taekwondo. But as the days move into weeks, then months and the shiny newness wears off, things become more difficult. You become aware of the million and one things (it feels like) you’re doing wrong and your black belt seems so far away. It’s easy to get discouraged.

That’s when perseverance kicks in. I love martial arts. I love my training sessions. But there are some days it takes every ounce of willpower I’ve got to drag myself off of my desk chair and get to the dojang. I know I’ll be happy I did once I get there, but overcoming the mental inertia is sometimes very difficult. Then there’s the frustration factor of trying to learn techniques that feel awkward and uncomfortable at first. Dynamo’s dealing with that right now. He learned his first two forms without even trying, but our current one — Tae-geuk Ill Jahng — is giving him fits. Because it’s difficult, he’s decided he doesn’t like poomse. I have to keep pushing at him to get him to practice. For me, it’s tornado kicks. I keep stumbling over my own feet. I know I’ll I just need keep at it, but some days it feels like I’ll never get them.

Women in the martial arts often need another type of perseverance, as well. For many of us, just signing up for training can be a lesson in perseverance. Women face more obstacles than men do before they ever set foot on the mats. I’ve talked to many women who’ve quit because a husband or boyfriend didn’t want them to continue training; I faced this with my own ex. From outside the relationship, it’s very easy to say “I’d never let a man force me to quit.” From inside the relationship, it’s not that simple. My ex would make his objections sound like concern for my well-being and it can seem such a small sacrifice to keep peace in your home. Could you imagine a man saying “I can’t continue training — my wife doesn’t like it”? It could be the punchline of a joke. But for women trapped in an abusive relationship, the situation can be deadly serious.

Even in non-abusive situations, women often face opposition from well-meaning parents, partners, and/or friends. I once knew a woman whose husband would always try to schedule commitments on her training nights. He didn’t mean any harm and once he realized he was doing it, he stopped. But it can take a lot of perseverance to keep saying, “No, I can’t do it then, I have training” for the 5th, 10th, 100th time.

As women, we need to create our own support groups. We need to make a point of greeting new students, of saying “We’re glad you’re here.” We need to reach out and say, “yeah, that technique was hard for me when I first learned it, too.” Most of all, we need to give women time and control. Many women find even the idea of sparring frightening; we need to give them more time to ease into it.

But that’s a topic for another day.

Next post: Self-Control.

in.teg.ri.ty n 1. honesty, incorruptibility. 2. wholeness, entirety.
–Oxford American Dictionary

Every martial art I’ve encountered promotes integrity. Honesty is one of the main cornerstones of the martial arts. While I don’t know any adult who entered the martial arts to learn or improve their integrity, many of us — including me — have enrolled our kids, hoping that they’ll carry this lesson out of the dojang and into the rest of their world. (In fact, Dynamo is going to be getting a lesson in integrity when he comes back from his Dad’s. We were set to test for our next belt rank on April 18th, but I got word from the school that he hasn’t turned any homework in for the last several weeks. Which means, he’s been lying to me about not having any. I’m still planning to test – he won’t be).

There’s another side to practicing integrity: being whole and present in whatever we’re doing. Boy, do I need to practice this. I try to approach my training sessions with the attitude that I’m doing everything for the first time; if we’re kicking targets, I try to make each kick, whether it’s the first kick that day or the hundredth, as if it were the only one I would ever do. I put everything other that the task at hand out of my mind. Or, at least I attempt to – like everyone else, there are days when Dynamo’s report card and “what do we need at the store for dinner” just won’t go away. It helps me to center and focus before I begin a session. If I’m running late to class and miss the beginning meditation, the rest of my practice will be off.

On the mats, the sessions I’m focused and present out number those I’m not. My track record in other areas, though, isn’t so great. I know Dynamo deserves every ounce of integrity I can give him. Some days, that’s really hard. He’s a constant chatterbox: his mouth starts moving as soon as he wakes up and doesn’t stop until he falls asleep at night. His whole day is a running monologue. So it gets far too easy for me to tune him out (after all, I’ve had 12 years of practice ). I need to pay attention — really pay attention and not just give him distracted “humms” and “un-huhs”. The real challenge for me is to be honest with him at the times when I do really need to be concentrating on something else. I’ve been making more of an effort to say, “I’m sorry, I really need to focus on this right now. I’ll be happy to listen to what you want to say at dinner.” And then to follow through on it and actively listen to him at dinner.

But, as the definition above indicates, there’s yet another meaning to integrity — wholeness. Like courtesy, integrity is something women in our culture are taught to extend to others, but not to ourselves. We’re taught to deny our feelings and our needs in favor of our families’. For the ten+ years of my previous marriage, I compromised my integrity on a daily basis. I said “yes” when I should’ve said “no”, “wait”, “maybe”, or “let’s think about this”. I submerged my own personality, my thoughts and feelings to attend to those of my ex. Two and a half years out, I feel like I’m only now recovering my own integrity. It’s been a long process rediscovering who I actually am, not who my ex tried to shape me into.

To be true our path, we need to be true to ourselves. I also believe that our children need to see us model integrity towards ourselves. Otherwise, we risk perpetuating the cycle we’re struggling against.

Next post: Perseverance.