The dojo

It may not look like much, but this is where I train.

Other than going to church and staying at home, I’m at the dojo. It’s a calming place where the smell of sweat lingers in the air and a keen since of belonging is felt. I love this place, everything about it. Our students, our art…everything has a place. One must only seek it to find the real treasure.

Of all the martial artists I’ve ever known, my sensei, Mr. Erickson, is the personification of what a martial artist is supposed to be/look like. He’s been my teacher for 20 years. I consider him a close friend. A confidant. A roll model. His wisdom and knowledge has helped to shape my martial journey and as I approach black belt (yes it has taken me 20 years) I look forward towards that goal. Even though black belt is just the beginning, I’m eager to learn as much as I can from him.

Then there’s his instructor, the one who leads our small band or Tracy’s instructors, Mr. Yard. The man is a walking, talking Kenpo encyclopedia. He takes after the late great, grand master, Mr. Al Tracy. He has the entire system committed to memory. He knows it all and can recite and teach it, at the drop of a hat. I can only hope that I reach his level.

There used to be a whole cadre of us instructors. Time and life has dwindled our numbers to a handful now, but still a solid team. I thank the Lord above that I have the physical and mental acuity to be able to teach all these years, I won’t ever stop. Not until the good Lord calls me home. I eat, sleep and dream of Kenpo. It has a profound impact on my life and I can’t imagine living without it. My only regret that I started training in my twenties. I think if I had started younger I’d be further along in my training. I took the scenic route, not worried about belts and colors, but black belt is calling me. I hear it every time I punch and kick the bags. I can feel it moving through me when I practice kata. The memories and lessons learned from those who came before me. Their example sends rippling waves throughout time. A voice in time, of all the masters speaking at once, ensuring that we not spoil the system. It has been passed down from generation to generation. I take it VERY seriously. From teaching my students everything I have learned to my own personal training, I try each and every day to make those who have come before me, proud.

The dojo is home away from home. It’s a place where height, weight, male or female black or white, or whatever color you are…it doesn’t matter. When you step out on the mat it’s time to train. Leave the days troubles at the door. You are at the dojo. Calm. Peace. Destruction. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.