We all have a passion, something that piques our interest, and lights a special fire in our eyes that nothing else can. It's something that we're dedicated to; something that mere words cannot adequately describe. A passion is not calculated, it is born into the world by chance. However, when it is discovered, it has a long-lasting impact, remaining core to he who nurtures it and uses it as a tool for self-development.
As an inactive (and often called "lazy") individual, physical activities never piqued my interest in elementary school. Sure, I would join the local basketball and baseball teams, but I never really felt a connection to either. Eventually, I became tired of doing the same sports repetitively, and I decided to quit them altogether. I was left without a source of physical activity, and I started to gain weight. My doctor told me that I was at risk of being overweight, and recommended that I join some other type of physical activity — and quickly.
I had no idea where to start; fortunately, one of my friends had a direction to lead me in. I had heard that he went to karate classes. I had seen karate in movies and in passing, but I never got the chance to investigate it for myself. I enjoyed the prospect of being able to defend myself — especially now that I'd be moving up to middle school — and the idea of self-development. I went to view a class, and then I participated in two trial classes. Liking what I saw, I decided to try it for six months, which was by far, the best investment I've ever made as a person. Ever since that moment that I put pen to paper, karate has been an important part of my development as an individual. I still apply many of the principles that I learned in karate to my actions today, and these same principles empower me to become a more wholesome individual.
Since I have not recently been to a class, I feel the best way to share my experience is through my pre-black belt essay. We were required to reflect upon our journey prior to earning our black belts, and below is a synopsis of where I came from, as well as what I have developed into as a result of karate.
"My eyes are up here, Sean.” my new sensei said, watching my eyes as they slowly crept upward to meet his. I had just signed up for karate, an activity that would test the limits of my mind, body, and spirit. Other than the few years of baseball and basketball I played in elementary school, I was physically unprepared for the new challenges that karate demanded that I overcome. Mentally and spiritually, I was no better. I had few friends and was immature and rash in many of my decisions. I was quick to anger and would follow my emotions rather than thinking through situations. As he shook my hand, I embraced karate, not only as a means of getting exercise but also as a lifestyle that would change the way that I thought about myself.
My first class as a white belt was quite memorable. I was clueless as to what to expect when I walked into the dojo. After bowing to show respect, the other students and I stretched in preparation for what would be a brutal class. Like a drill sergeant, my sensei commanded us to jump rope. My coordination was unimpressive, causing bruises to accumulate on my feet each time the rope struck them. Rock music blasted from speakers around the dojo, interfering with my concentration and preventing me from focusing on the task at hand. I began to breathe heavily and had trouble staying calm. I kept telling myself to work, “just one minute longer,” hoping that the pain would cease. Luckily, I saw my sensei turn the music off from the corner of my eye, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Finally,” I thought, “I’ll have a chance to get a break.” I was sadly mistaken, as the music started up again, followed by the voice of my sensei, screaming at us to do a hundred sit-ups.
After the workout, I was exhausted. Despite the constant pressure to quit that I felt every time I pushed myself, I persevered. My uniform and body dripped with sweat; my energy dissipated with every bead. As I walked back into the dojo, I felt lightheaded, and my limbs began to feel like spaghetti. Fatigued, I clung onto one of the punching bags, and collapsed. “What a fool I must look like,” I muttered. “Some of the students are two grades below me, but they only seem a bit dazed by the workout.” Soon after, sensei noticed me and asked if I was alright. He told me that I did well, especially for my first class. I grinned and left the dojo feeling a changed man. At that moment, my devotion and dedication to karate became absolute. From that experience onward, I sought nothing less than self-improvement.
“Come on, Sean! Keep your eyes up!” I heard a voice from the crowd at my black belt test yell, mere minutes before it erupted into cheers. It was a grueling endeavor, but I finally became a black belt. Four years had passed since I was the timid white belt standing in the dojo’s corner. As my sensei came over to congratulate me, he shook my hand once again. I looked straight into his eyes, beaming with pride and joy. His eyes were mirrors, allowing me to reflect upon my beginnings. I no longer struggled with any of the exercises as I had before. Instead of being reserved in class, I became a leader. I refused to quit under hardship. Through my sensei, I learned the value of self-discipline, a virtue which extends beyond the mere idea of putting obligations before pleasures. Truly mastering it demands high levels of both faith and dedication, each a necessary component for perseverance. As he shook my hand and the crowd cheered for the new black belt, my transformation was complete. From that moment onward, I never greeted the floor again.
