Thanksgivings

Two hours left of Thanksgiving Day, my first one in forty trips around the sun that I've spent without family.  The first one in 13 without my children.  Far from feeling broken and lost, I feel strong.  Strong in mind, body, and spirit.

Strong mind.  I've learned so much this year.  Some comes straight from homeschooling my sons:  Latin declensions, geometry theorems, cellular respiration equations, Punic War details, and so much more.  Other learning is more self-directed.  I've stretched it with Scrabble games and busied it with Buddhism readings. I'm thankful for the time and ability to think, read, and write.  My mind is stronger, and for this I give thanks.

Strong body.  Post-push-up pain aside, I've gained considerable physical strength thanks to martial arts training.  I'm far more coordinated than any previous point in my life, with better balance to boot.  Excellent instruction from my instructor in Tang Soo Do, my own hard work, and encouragement from friends at the dojang all contributed.  My body is stronger, and for this I give thanks.

Strong spirit.  Emotional strain and pain forced me to look inward more intently than ever.  I sought and summoned inner resources previously unrecognized, and I found a connection to the universe that brings me a sense of wholeness.  I continue on a spiritual journey, but I've made many steps this year.  Personal struggles, support from family and friends, and dedication to truth seeking paved many stones on this path.  My spirit is stronger, and for this I give thanks.   

To all of you who have supported me during this time, thanks for sharing your strengths so mine may grow. 

Namaste. (which, for this writing, means may the strength in me recognize the strength in you, and when we recognize the strength in each other, we are one)

Sore, Striped, and Strong

A recent Sunday morning found me achy from hips to head and a bit bruised in between.  Two hours of Tang Soo Do testing left me rather battered and quite aware that fifty push-ups and lots of bodily contact including takedowns and a few kicks to the abdomen from some powerful black belts took their toll on my 40-year-old body.  Just rolling out of bed challenged me, and coughing or laughing was amazingly painful. Bring on the heating pad and the ibuprofen (holistic types, advice welcome).

A week later, my pain only a memory, I'm back in the dojang, sitting on the floor for an hour of promotions. I'm finding myself less than thrilled at the prospect of 30 minutes of names being called followed by applause, and I'm feeling a bit guilty about my attitude.  The newest members are up front, all in white aside from a few with a splash of yellow or orange across an otherwise white belt.  I flash back to my first few months of Tang Soo Do:  every punch, kick, and turn took all my concentration and effort.  Just landing on the correct foot seemed to take divine intervention.  With my coordination, it probably did.

Receiving a yellow belt, that first bit of color to my conspicuously white uniform, was a major triumph. I was on my way, and, more importantly at the time, I wasn't at the very beginning anymore.  I was moving ahead.  Fast forward to orange, green, red, and all the stripes in between to this promotion.  Red with a stripe.  No longer in the first few groups called to promote, I'm now in the last row to be called forward.  As my instructor places the coveted stripe on my belt, the first of four before black belt,  I warm to the moment at hand and beam with pride.

Quite honestly, the test a few weeks back gave me pause.  I was rather discouraged with my conditioning (those push-ups!) and rather concerned about the intensity of the testing itself, especially as I continue to progress.  Two-on-one sparring lies ahead:  two black belts on one testing red belt, with fresh pairs of black belts swapping in every few minutes.  Yikes.  But two years ago, so much about red imtimidated me.  How would I ever be able to perform all those complicated-looking forms, one right after another, with my coordination?  How could I learn to throw people much larger than me, dodge punches and kicks while dishing out my own?  How could I learn it all? 

Somehow, I did manage.  Not somehow.  Classes twice a week, some practice at home, an amazingly patient instructor, and two in-home helpers with better memory than I:  those played more than a small role.  I'm stronger and more coordinated than ever before.  My body responds with instinct and confidence -- a first for me. My martial arts work and the focus required have certainly aided my ability to cope with the life changes I've confronted these past two years.  Making new friends on the same path and having the chance to work long-term on a goal with my kids are bonuses.  The strength, focus, and confidence I've gained?  They're worth the days of aches -- completely.

What We Learned Today

Here's a sampling of what the boys and I learned today.  Feel free to guess who learned what.

Complement means "that which completes something".  Compliment is something nice we say to another.
The subject complement takes a noun, adjective, or subjective pronoun.
In Spanish, there are eight articles, as opposed to the three in English.
Complementary angles are two angles which add up to 90 degrees.
Supplementary angles are two angles that add up to 180 degrees.
Tofind the area of a rectangle, multiply the length time the width.
To find the perimeter of a polygon, add up all the sides.
Aedifico (Latin) means "to build".
In "Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes," Sadako contracts leukemia after exposure to radiation from an atomic bomb.
Plant cells have chloroplasts.  Animal cells don't.
How to play measure 73 through 76 in "Hopak" by Modest Mussorgsky on the piano.
It's hard to read the Encylopedia Britannica.
The pretzel with the bong (bo staff in Korean martial arts) is tricky and takes flexibility. 
How to spell "blew".
How to beat mom at "Settlers of Catan."
Trimming rear claws on kittens is harder than cutting front claws.
The letters "s" and "b" in cursive aren't really that hard.
Acorn squash makes great yeasted bread.
Kittens can  be a bit gassy.
Yellow Tail Shiraz is still okay after a week in the fridge.
Encouraging a friend is uplifting.
Refusing to unlock the house until the garbage is taken out is an effective method of delegating chores.
We can get ready for Tang Soo Do in 5 minutes.

We're really all learning all the time.  Nice to know, huh?

Seeing Red

Valentine's Day brought three inches of snow and our Tang Soo Do testing day. The boys and I have studied this form of Korean martial arts for almost two years, and this test brought us to the next level of our karate studies, moving us from 4th Gup to 3rd Gup, green belt with two stripes to the long-awaited red belt. It was a proud day as well as another milestone I never would have anticipated before 2007.

We began Tang Soo Do as a "promotion" of sorts from my younger's nine months OT and PT. Faced with the choice of twice-weekly swimming or martial arts, both sports increasing core strength and midline-crossing skills, my then five-year-old elected to avoid getting his face wet. He took "Tiny Tiger" karate classes at our local rec. center with other young ones for the first three months, and he really didn't care for the sessions. After all, he was expected to speak loudly, acknowledge an adult he hadn't known for the past three years, and generally do what the group was doing in front of a bunch of parents. It was hardly a smooth transition, and I'll admit I found the "Yes, Sirs" and push-ups uncomfortably militaristic.

A few months in, our instructor invited us over the dojang for a class. My older joined in reluctantly and under a bit of duress, truth be told, but whispered, "I love this!" about halfway through that first session. Before we left for home, we had our uniforms and white belts in hand and were swelling with enthusiasm.

I'll freely admit the sport truly has pushed the limits of my coordination, but by pushing at those limits, it's moved them further out. I've never felt so strong, flexible, and able. I even almost know my right from left. We've worked together, supporting, encouraging, and correcting each other along the way. It's not all been pretty. Perhaps 39 is a bit too old for mastering a jump spinning crescent kick, or perhaps I'm just not there yet. There are days the boys fight going, and there are days I'd rather not make the drive, but we end up there, twice a week, continuing our Tang Soo journey. Stay tuned!