girl 5, junk mail collage, photo & digital |
Brrrrrr ...
Just a few hours away now and ...
every year I go through this.
every year I go through this.
A real love/hate relationship.
I'm talking about Kangeiko.
Kangeiko is the Japanese term for cold weather training.
Always the first Sunday of each year, we meet at 5:30 AM
near the Huntington Beach Pier for training ...
that starts in the dark and ends after the sun has started it's ascent.
that starts in the dark and ends after the sun has started it's ascent.
I realize in other parts of the country and
even in other countries it is much colder than here.
All I can say is I am glad to be here.
I am posting (former red belt & brown belt student)
Rachel Maher's exquisite essay written in 2007
for her college entrance requirement.
I've never read a better description.
Rachel Maher's exquisite essay written in 2007
for her college entrance requirement.
I've never read a better description.
She is now a college graduate with a stellar career ...
as you might have imagined.
(* spacing errors below are not Rachel's but a blogspot quirk?)
My
lungs are an old filter, painfully swelling with each swig of cold air;
my heart is a malfunctioning clock, gradually increasing its steady
pulse; my feet are blocks of ice, chipped away by a hammer with each
pounding step. I am too cold to shiver, and as I gaze out at the pale
expanse disappearing in the darkness before me, the only thing that
motivates me is the sound of my numerous pursuers. They start to
overtake me, and I feel weak and tired. When I run into the circle, I
shove my bare feet deeper into the sand
and
briefly contemplate why I ever chose to leave my warm bed. But I am
soon called back to reality by the sound of Senseis voice. He shouts
his orders and my feet leave their insulating cocoons as I kick, sending
abrasive granules flying like explosive sparks of fireworks against the
black of early morning.
I
catch the eyes of my friends and fellow trainers and we exchange grins.
This is the day we have been anticipating with excitement, dread - and
just a touch of insanity. This is Kangeiko, cold weather training, a new
year custom in our traditional Karate. It is a time for friends to meet
and collectively persevere in the face of a challenge, thus starting
the year with good fortune. The first Sunday of January, we layer
sweaters over our uniforms and socks over our feet and head down to the
beach at 5:30 in the morning. We stand together exchanging holiday
stories and, gradually removing layers, we
acclimate
ourselves to the cold. There are levels of cold on the dark beach in
January. The air itself is chilly - the runny nose, aching ears kind of
cold. Even so, it is bearable, cold only in relation to our mild days.
The wind adds an edge to the chill, spraying algid Pacific mist against
ones already reddening face, making it feel raw and numb. The sand
hurts. Sand is a great insulator, so while in the warmth of summer its
golden swells exude the suns heat, it also expertly retains the cold of
night. Sand - at 5:30 in the middle of winter, feeling like a thousand
needles jabbing the feet - is the most irritating, painful, sharp,
biting, stinging, piercing, frigid material ones appendages could ever
hope to encounter. After several years of exposing myself to this
torture, I am convinced that our warm ups are not so much to warm us up
as they are to make our feet numb so that we can put the pain behind us
and get to work. This method must be effective, because what may be
routine in the dojo suddenly takes on an element of the exotic, and we
proceed with great zeal though perhaps with little grace through our
basic techniques and our kata. We come to thoroughly enjoy ourselves,
our happiness augmented by bewilderment at our own audacity to engage in
such an activity. As dawn approaches, we participate in activities that
stoke our competitiveness, while encouraging camaraderie. We have relay
races and drills that take us down to the waters edge where we spar,
actually grateful when we are taken down
into the relative warmth of the cold and churning ocean.
To ensure that we understand the worth of this mornings activities, my chief
instructor,
wise as he is skilled, shares with us a message. With his thick
Japanese accent, Sensei makes poignant observations about the
significance of beach training in our lives: of the importance of
connecting with new and old acquaintances, and the necessity of having a
focus during difficult times.
Wet and sandy, we then scramble into a line facing the sun, beaming with our
blue
lips. Seizan is a very special part of training, a short meditation at
the beginning and end of every session, first clearing our minds of all
distractions, then reflecting on how blessed we are to be able to be
active and disciplined. Seisan at the end of Kangeiko is particularly
tranquil and meaningful. Although each person feels tired and
uncomfortable
kneeling
on the sand, the freshness of the sun lighting the misty shore,
combined with the consciousness of the physical and mental strength that
was required for the previous event, makes it impossible to finish that
morning without feeling proud and connected with the surrounding people
and environment.
What
comes next is the most physically strenuous part of my morning, though
quite possibly the most valuable event in which I partake. As most of
our group migrates towards blankets, hot beverages, and a blazing fire
pit, a small number of us trudges back towards the waves where we stand
thigh deep in water to do a kata for every person present. The water is
no longer an inviting relief from the cold sand, and the resistance of
the water hurts our legs and pushes us out of balance. Wave after wave,
the tide threatens
to
knock us over, but we continue our training. Sharing this experience,
we are able to laugh, shiver, joke, and smile. Despite being a strict
ritual, this training is informal, not confined to the structure of our
dojo. By participating, though, Kangeiko literally makes the entire
world my dojo - a sacred place of learning, respect, manners, and
discipline. Though I often isolate myself in Karate because I feel that I
lack the skill necessary to be
associated
with my fellow trainers, there is no time of the year that I feel more
connected to everything around me than on the day of Kangeiko, when I am
engulfed by the ocean, surrounded by my friends, and focused on a
collective passion. Gazing at some dolphins swimming in the crispness of
the new morning, a particularly strong wave splashes me in the face. I
stumble, continue with my moves, and realize that it is the waves that
make the experience worthwhile.
Rachel Maher, 2007
So, again I dread the cold, but seek the reward.
The euphoria felt after completing Kangeiko is palpable,
and worth everything.
(See more Monday)
A smile for Saturday ...
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