May 2, 2008
Last weekend, Two Cranes Aikido held a mini seminar taught by Kimberly Richardson Sensei and Joanne Veneziano Sensei (of Emerald City Aikido) in celebration of O’Sensei’s passing. It was also exam day for two nidan candidates.
As much as I want to spend the next few paragraphs describing what both Senseis taught that day and how wonderful the two nidan exams were, what I really want to do is write about this white belt that I trained with that day, an aikidoka who, despite having been diagnosed with a life threatening disease, showed such joy during practice and opened my eyes to what O’Sensei really meant when he said “train with joy.”
This white belt is not from my dojo and I don’t think she’s a raw beginner as I’ve seen her at other seminars and classes. But on that day, she got on the mat with a “port” installed on neck. Apparently, this was installed by her doctor so that medicine could be injected into her. She volunteered the info when I asked if I was hurting her by placing my hand near that area. She said it was fine and that the port is part of her treatment for cancer.
I’m like “what?!?” What is she doing training? She definitely doesn’t look like someone who is undergoing cancer treatment. In hindsight, I realize she probably hasn’t started treatment and that maybe that Saturday was the last time she would train for awhile. But even then, I was shocked. If I was diagnosed with a life threatening disease, if I was told I would have to go through months of grueling chemotherapy or radiation therapy, and if I just had a port installed into my neck, the last thing I would want to do is train. My instinct would be to hide at home and prepare myself physically and mentally for the ordeal that is to come.
But here she was, on the mat, training as if it was any other day. She was smiling and laughing. Of course, who knows what anguish she might be feeling inside but for all outward appearances, she seem to be enjoying herself. I wanted to baby her, not throw her too hard or move too fast. But she would have none of it. At one point, I asked if she wanted to sit and watch Sensei demonstrate. She thought I said if she wanted to sit out. She said, “No! I’m not gonna let it stop me.” It, I assume, meant the disease. She said those words with such conviction. I couldn’t help but be impressed.
Being brave in the face of adversity is difficult for me. Saying “It isn’t going to stop me” is not an automatic response. My natural tendency is to hide when overwhelmed. I have to force myself into action, often after much whining and bitching. Even then, I do so grudgingly and very curmudgeonly. Let’s just say you wouldn’t want to be around me when I’m in one of those moods. Those who know me knows exactly how I am when I’m like that 
And that’s when faced with non-life threatening situations. I really don’t know what I’ll be like if and when I have to deal with something that may end my life. I honestly don’t know if I can deal as well as this white belt can. I don’t know if I’ll have the courage to get myself onto the mat and train.
That’s why this white belt made such an impression on me. She is facing a life threatening disease yet she found the strength to face the world.
I’ve been dealing with a recurring health issue myself. But it’s not serious - not compared to cancer or any of the many you’re-gonna-die disease. It’s more annoying than anything else although it can be quite stressful if I let it be - and I do. On that Saturday, I was having one of my “bad” days. The fact that I was at the dojo was a miracle in itself - from my perspective anyways. Then I trained with this white belt and I’m like “this can’t be a coincidence.” It’s as if someone up there is trying to teach me a lesson: Look at this white belt. She has cancer and she’s training - with joy! What you have is nothing compared to what she has. Stop whining!
For those of us who are not the optimistic, glass half-full, devil-may-care type, It’s easy to feel sorry for yourself when things go awry. It’s easy to bitch, moan, and be overly dramatic about the smallest things. What this white belt showed me is that there are others who are worse off - people with cancer, people starving, people living in war torn countries in which each sunrise is a miracle, and people locked in a basement by their crazy father/grandfather (sorry, couldn’t resist). More importantly, these people will often find joy even when circumstances dictate otherwise. For a pessimist like me, that is a very alien concept. Yet we see it happen all the time. What a testament to the human spirit. Perhaps this resilience is one of the things that O’Sensei wanted to capture by creating aikido - when all hell breaks loose, can our spirit endure?
“Just when you think you can’t go lower, you can.” That’s what we tell people doing koshinages as they attempt to load uke on their backs. Likewise, “Just when you think you can’t go on, you can.”
The white belt’s joy was infectious. I had a hard time being depressed on that “bad” day. And thanks to her, I have a different take on my health issue.
I will probably continue to bitch and moan. And no, my friends shouldn’t expect me to be Mr. Sunshine. But I will try to not let little things get me down and stop me from living. And most certainly, I won’t let them stop me from training - with joy.
