I knew the conversation was coming, as it was only a matter of time.
The fact that my teacher was quiet on it for a few classes meant he was thinking about the best way to resolve it before it would start impacting the harmony of the dojo.
When my teacher was standing next to me after class at a certain distance, I knew this was it.
I was going to be the one to speak to him, as I was not only his senior in the dojo, but along the way we had sparked up a friendship of sorts, and it needed to come off not as criticism, but as something that was not a big deal.
The incident had created a doubt, which was creating openings in their movement.
Openings that would get them killed.
Speak to them and fix it was the request.
In the dojo, requesting something carries more weight than giving an order for it.
Could I see the camera footage so I could at least know what really happened?
That would be allowed.
It was after class when the dojo had been closed for the night, the four of us hanging out outside the steps leading to the dojo, listening to the teacher telling us a story.
The teacher, the senior student, myself, and Ramos.
It was late.
Very late.
The kind of late where you should have already been home and in bed, but also the kind of late where the teacher was telling stories about the old days and interrupting would be a wasted opportunity.
Something must have tripped in the store across the street, sounding an alarm that even the camera could not resolve.
I remembered that, the loudest alarm I have ever heard.
Anything beyond that was a blur.
My teacher just turned in the direction of the alarm.
Perfect.
In balance.
Aware of the space.
The senior student just stood there.
Confused in the moment.
Seconds behind the alarm.
I quickly turned in the direction of the alarm and dropped into a passable low fighting stance.
Ramos ran.
After watching the video, my teacher asked if I understood the problem now in the dojo.
I did.
It was a few classes later when we were all sitting on the curb outside the pizza shop eating pizza when I saw an opening.
I sat down next to Ramos as we ate, so when we all walked back to the dojo, I could slow him down walking back and we could talk privately for a moment.
Outside and away from the dojo was best.
I asked him what was going on.
Nothing.
Something was going on, and he could either tell me and be real with me, or I could just start hitting him harder in class.
Joking, of course.
But not really.
He was upset that his reputation was ruined in the dojo.
That he ran, and what would the other students think?
He couldn’t imagine what the teacher thought.
Obviously it was bad, as I was sent to speak to him.
Was that what our friendship was?
First, I told him the truth, that nobody else in the dojo knows and there is no reason for anybody to know.
Something happened, and it could either be made into a big deal or not, and that was completely under his control.
It was simple.
A moment that was really about nothing. Get back to training correctly, and in a few weeks it will be forgotten.
Or…
I could see he was there at the decision point and needed a little more truth.
If I was going to give what had happened any weight, I would look at it like this.
Something happened, and you started moving.
You didn’t freeze.
Lock up.
Or stand around as a target.
Was running the right move?
Was standing there in posture any better?
Who can say?
If anything, he remembered the first lesson of the dojo.
Stuff starts to go down and you start moving.
Once he laughed I knew things were going to be OK.
No comments:
Post a Comment