I vaguely remember my first day bowing sensai to my instructor and beginning an intense workout for an 11year old. I remember that the first week, I was paired with a family friend, but also a strong thick girl known for the bloodynose/busted lip on her opponents. I remember thinking “holy crap what the hell do I do!” Of course I ended up with my first and only bloody nose that night. From that point on, I sort of fell in love, not with the ability to fight, but with my strength.
I remember my first karate competition, my fight to earn my green belt, the day I spared one of my instructors, the day I bruised one of my instructors, the day I got the nickname “legs” and the day I kicked a kid as tall as me square in the head after he punched me so hard I saw nothing but stars. However triumphant these moments seem, there was one moment that will stick with me forever. In my 5th year practicing karate, a boy started coming to our dojo with his mother. Sure many boys and girls came with their parents, and many boys and girls left never to come back because it was “too hard.” Not this kid. This kid was special. He was a few years younger than I was and his personality was like gravity. You were drawn to him, you wanted to learn everything about him. He wasn’t a gorgeous model, he wasn’t even built like an athlete. What made him so different? He was blind. 100% legally blind.
I sort of remember the first day he came in with his mom holding his arm and his head just wobbling away in all directions not knowing that the scene in front of him was that of 20 students ages 5 years to 55 years standing in awe. How could this kid learn the art forms of karate without sight? They are visual? How can he learn to defend himself from the guy who is about to throw a punch at him when he can’t see him?
Over the next year, I learned more about myself and a lot of what I learned came from this boy. One particular night sticks out in my memory. Don’t get me wrong, my memory has probably glorified these moments and changed them, but what I tell you next is a summary of what my brain is allowing me to remember. We had been paired up for routines. It wasn’t the first time we were paired, I think that my sensai knew I could explain things without saying, “look at this, or do this.” In the midst of throwing punches and blocking, he stopped and basically asked me why I hadn’t asked him why he was there. I was taken aback. I never really thought about it. Honestly, I probably asked myself why in the beginning but in the months that followed, I think it just became part of the everyday mundane. I vaguely remember my response, probably something sarcastic and polite. He smiled and made a joke about being blind. I laughed and said, people ask me why I do it and I just say, I enjoy being strong. He told me that the gets made fun of everyday for not being able to see. But his blindness wasn’t a disability to him, it was what made him unique. Being apart of the dojo, gave him something to look forward to. We both laughed and of course got in trouble for talking during routine. I remember thinking to myself how much I admired this boy.
I watched him earn his green belt. I watched as his mother smiled, clapping. I remember one night my mom telling me she spoke with his mom. That she was so proud of her son and for the kids who embraced him rather than shun him. My mom knew that me and my brother weren’t popular, that we were picked on in school, so of course we would embrace him. That’s why we went every week, not to fight and earn belts, but to grow, respect and care.
It’s been years since I set foot inside a dojo, years since I threw a punch that hit solid flesh, years since I’ve seen the kids I grew up with, and yet I remember everything. I remember what I learned, how I learned how to respect myself. I think that practicing karate as a kid actually impacted who I am today in a way that others cannot begin to understand. And for that I am proud when a mother or father tells me that their child wants to join. I don’t know what happened to that boy, where he is now or what he is doing, but I do know that it is kids like him that are going to make this world a better place.
In my life I have had great fortune of meeting so many inspirational people. I take for granted that the colors in this world, are colors I can see, that the faces of the people I love, I can see. This boy showed me that in a world of darkness, there still is light.
Adventures of a Wayfarer 