Green Belt

I was a white belt for so long that I used to dream that I somehow missed the belt test for green belt, or that I took the test and passed it.

When I entered the dojo, this was before the boom in enrollment a few year later, it was less than a dozen students, including the teacher.

One black belt, one white belt, and the rest green belts, not counting the teacher.

Naturally at first my movements were out of place, everything was unknown.

Not just learning a new way of moving the body, and a new language, but also a new way of thinking and seeing things.

Compared to other dojo in the East, things tended to take a little longer as there were many aspects of culture interwoven into the training that would have just been known or assumed if one was born on the other side of the world.

But on this side of the world, one had to learn and integrate that also.

As time went on I stood out less on the lineup.

I learned how to stand as expected, how to conduct myself as expected, and while my forms and movement were trash, at least there was a serious attempt.

It’s not that I was ignored in the dojo, I wasn’t, but often in class it felt like I was left on my own to see what happens. A feeling of let’s see if he is still here in a few months.

I was seen, but not noticed.

Over time it felt like the other noticed my white belt less and less, but anytime we stood on the line, I noticed it.

How could I not?

I was always the last on the line.

I was never told, but I could tell the moment it happened, I knew the moment it happened.

We were reviewing the basic body postures as the teacher would cut down with a padded stick of bamboo which was being used as a sword, and one would conduct themselves accordingly and get out of the way.

Something enters the space, and you get out of the way.

The first cut came down and you got out of the way.

This was easy.

Easy as in I could watch the black belt and other senior ranks ahead of my go through the experiences, since I was always last.  

I had eleven chances to watch it and review the movement required in my mind.

What it was my turn on the line, the sword came down and I got out the way, but then the sword turned and a second cut came across.

No time to think, no time to jump up, or move under the cut.

I don’t know what I did, as I just watched the teachers eyes widen a bit I moved, a brief moment where we were both surprised.

Standing up I thought another cut was going to come in as the teacher stepped forward, but instead it was a smile and a handshake.

That next class was the moment I finally felt like I belonged to something.

Exactly what I could not articulate yet, but it was something.

I was still the last on line, always at the end of the class, but now I was wearing a green belt.