On the Mat
Finally, I made it to a regular class. My dojo has moved to the other side of Durham, and classes start 30 minutes earlier than they used, meaning that my attendance has been sporadic at best. When I did make it, it was for advanced class, which had me gasping like a graceless fish halfway through.
We talk a lot about shugyo in aikido: "hard training leading to enlightenment." (One of my favorite black belts once limped off the mat saying, "Shugyo's just another Japanese word for 'stupid.'" But he always came back for more.) Aikido's profoundly important to me -- but so's keeping up with work and, oh yeah, spending time with my kid before he goes off to kindergarten. So my priorities have been in the right place. All the same, this void of hard training has left me feeling distinctly unenlightened. Forget the long-delayed progress toward my black belt -- I need aikido in my life. It's the one place where I've been able to develop something resembling physical grace and, most importantly, peace of mind.
When I started aikido about ten years ago, I was That Guy. The one who was always too tense, too awkward, caught in alien territory. The aformentioned black belt once e-mailed me after a test to congratulate me and confess that he'd pegged me early on as one who wouldn't be able to hang in there. He predicted that I'd be wearing a hakama one day.
I'm so close I can feel it. It will happen. Soon. But strangely, I'm not in a hurry for it to happen, despite all the time I've lost. Right now, there's nothing more important than finding the extra time -- carving it out while maintaining all my other responsibilities -- to find the rhythm of the mat again.