My Path With Empty Hands

One day, over a decade ago now, I walked into a room bigger than my house’s first floor. An ocean of blue mats covering the floor, heavy bags standing taller than adults, and arsenals of bo staves and escrima sticks in the corners of the room. This was the training room of the martial arts school known as Martial Posture Studio. My friend Tadeusz (Tuh-day-oosh) and I were in our first martial arts class. His mother, Monica, had us try it out after his built up peer pressure possessed me to follow suit. There were two other students in the room who were much older and seemed to have been for a fairly long time because of the purple belts around their waist. After a few minutes, a man dressed in a black gi,  training pants, and a black belt tied around his waist. He rounded us up and proceeded give us our first class in Kenpo Karate (Translates to Law of The Fist, Empty Hand). The thought of learning the arts of war somersault around our minds like the ninjas we thought we were. We were enthralled and decided to continue to learn this discipline which spring-boarded my path of learning Kenpo Karate .

The first few years of my training have escaped my memory. However, my teacher Ish says that I, like many other children at that age who take up martial arts, was extremely unfocused. There were some moments that made him put his hand on his brow like a porch awning to his eyes and let out a forceful sigh. I obviously was not the best at first but, that is very much normal. Even as young as I was, I knew Kenpo Karate was not at all about win or loss. There is an importance on growth. It did not matter at all about how fast or how large it was. If there was some positive change on you not only as a fighter, but as a person then, Ish and the other instructors were satisfied.

I continued training at the school but, Tadeusz had lost interest not long after we had gotten our yellow belts. The long term goal of black belt came with a seemingly endless road to get there. The road can stand amongst people like a basilisk as the amount of progress you must make to achieve it. Ish says that at full concentration, focus, and dedication, it could take someone at least five years to achieve black belt but, for most, it could take a decade. However, there was always one proverb that kept bringing confidence back to life in me and my classmates. “Whether you say you can or cannot do it, either way you are right.” Ish would often say. It was this proverb`that kept me training. It kept me hardening my knuckles and shins into a tree’s solidity, kept me in stances that emulate cats and cranes, kept performing kadas that began as a dance only to transform into a lethal choreography, kept me on the path to becoming a black belt before a freshman.

Middle school came around which was a phase in my life that had a detrimental emotional impact in my life. My friends from elementary school had moved on to other schools in the city for their middle-school lives. I came into 5th grade alone with barely a friend with me. The people in my class were mostly people that would be considered in my mind as an asshole. They always ridiculed me for my gullibility, threw slurs at me like verbal bullets and their hateful aura drove me away like a gun ringing out. I had felt lonely for most of my time at school and around this same time, I began to appreciate Martial Posture Studio more than ever before. I had discovered some of the most therapeutic techniques courtesy of my martial arts instructors. This included things like punching a striking bag with all your passion as it get absorbed like a scream into a bedroom pillow, light contact sparring with glistening gloves and padded gear as bodies whipping around like dragons around a mountain peak, and laughing as the sweat drips down from our brows like raindrops granting new growth to trees. At times it felt like a second home. A place where I could spend time without any worries of anxiety and stress pouring into my mind. Where I had many more friends to laugh, frolic, sweat, and spar with. And for a very long time, that was the best thing ever for me.

I found myself at the top of my class in middle school. I was a blue belt on the cusp of becoming a green belt and was readying myself to move onto the next class. This would also be when my biggest hurdle would appear in the form of my classmate, David. I remembered his face vaguely from kindergarten and because of that we became very good friends in our class. He however, changed progressively as time went on. He showed one quality that I had grown to hate not just in him but, in general, arrogance. He would always boast every time he beat me in a sparring match, every in-house tournament win he would have over me, every step higher he was than me his voice spread out like peacock feathers as he yelled “Superior Blood!” It annoyed me to the point where we almost had a scuffle with each other. He almost made me want to quit martial arts.

I started contemplating quitting martial arts. The social toxicity I wished to escape was invading the one safe haven I had. And even though at the time I was a brown belt, I was still being told my skills were sub-par. However, that one proverb began ringing in my head like a song you have longed to hear play on a radio. “Whether you say you can or cannot do it, either way, you are right.” I said to myself. And so I stayed. I dug my toes into the mat with each stance, used my new found focus as a whetstone to sharpen my skills, and soon enough, I was ready for the black belt test.

It was the first day of high school. A long day marking the next stages of my life. The day I became a freshman at Science Leadership Academy and a black belt in Kenpo Karate. I finished school and immediately went to Martial Posture Studio afterwards. What followed was some of the most grueling hours of my life. three hours of reciting every kada I knew, doing reps of workouts and drills, and easily the worst part, sparring my teachers each for a two minute round.  My breath was heavy, my face was bruised, and my legs were weak to stand on. After I was carried of to the side and the ceremonial kicks to the Solar Plexus, I became a black belt.

I owe a lot to martial arts. Being that I’ve trained for more than two thirds of my life, it has shaped me into the person I have become today. This transformation is similar to the soldiers in Kevin Powers’ The Yellow Birds. Like me, they were influenced by their environment that only people with similar experiences can empathize with. Obviously the influences have had different effects but, nevertheless it is still there. Sometimes I often wonder what kind of person that I would have been had I not accepted Tadeusz’s request. How would I have handle the solitude I feel during middle school? How would I have  reacted to many of the students I was with that angered me? How would I be different? I often think about these questions a lot and I don’t really like the conclusions I come to. Because of this, I am very grateful of the life I have lived.