Disorientation Is The Engine

I had been trying to hit my teacher all evening.

More accurately cut him with the fukuro shinai, a padded practice sword, in my hands.

Demonstrating one of the forms to the class, he had called me up throughout the class with instructions to cut at me and get him if I could.

This time I had positioned him in the corner of the dojo where the heavy bags hung and there was only one way out and past them.

Which was thought me.

I cut as fast as I could, faster in that I stepped further and shifted my weight more then I should have, I was sure to connect this time.

Disappointingly he moved out of the way and disappeared from my field of vision, as I stumbled forward a bit, tripping on my feet.

I was planning to bring the sword around to my side and deliver a cut across the torso when I noticed my hands were empty.

If I wasn’t holding the sword, where was it?

Startlingly it was on the ground next to me, just off to the side.

Maybe I should pick it up.

I stumbled some more, before becoming aware that apparently I was sitting down on the ground as a far off voice was calling to me, while somebody was rubbing my back.

Another voice directed to keep my head up and spine straight and to be ready to catch me in-case I pass out again.

Pass out?

I was fine, I just needed to pick up the sword and cut again.

But now the sword was on the other side of the dojo resting against the wall.

I didn’t put it there, actually it was in my hands.

But oddly they were empty.

I spend the rest of the class sitting on the floor watching the training as one of the senior students sat just off to the side behind me.

Just in-case.

After class when I asked the senior student what had happened, he told me that the teacher hit me as the sword cut came in.

Hit me?

I didn’t remember getting hit.

Or dropping the sword.

I could have sworn that I actually tagged the teacher this time.

From another angle another senior student shared that it looked like I had walked into the teacher’s punch.

Walked into it?

Yes, I had, and it was my mistake.

My fault.

My desire to get him opened up weaknesses in my movement.

I was lucky it was only class.

I asked the senior student if at least I looked good going down.

Apparently not, as I stumbled around a bit, held onto one of the hanging bags insisting I was still holding the sword before I passed out.