Suffering on the Mats

I’ve been living with the word Heal this year. I’ve been trying to focus on the physical, mental, and spiritual places within myself that are in need of renewal, care, and rest.

Part of my initial idea for Heal was that I would reframe certain activities in terms of how they can bring healing. This included writing and martial arts, which are two things to which I devote quite a lot of time and energy outside of work and family.

Partway through the year, I began to question whether healing might mean devoting less time and energy to certain things instead:

The biggest lesson that I have learned (or re-learned) so far this year has been the importance of margins. I’ve needed to remember that spaces on the schedule do not need to be automatically filled. There is already so much happening right now that trying to fit in additional things would take away my peace, and maintaining that peace is a big need for my healing right now.

The question I’ve been asking lately is which would be more healing: continuing to do certain things or not doing them?

Recently, for about an hour, the answer was clear.

I’d been having a very poor mental health day. Every burdensome element in my life was weighing on my thoughts all at once. The week’s schedule had been unyielding in its demands. I hadn’t slept very well the night before. I couldn’t focus on much for very long throughout the day.

This persisted into the evening hours, when I became aware that it was a night I tended to reserve for karate. I wondered whether going would make things better or worse: would I be able to let these emotions out, or would doing so in this mindset just cause me to crumple into a heap on the mat?

I watched the start time for the first class come and go without moving off the couch. But as the start time for the next one got closer and closer, I decided to drag myself to the school and hope for the best.

The first portion of this class always involves conditioning: bumping forearms and shins together to toughen them up for blocking. As my arms and legs slammed against my partners’, I began to feel a shift in my energy. With every tap came a small release.

Eventually, I shifted to bag work: practicing my kicks on a large sparring bag. I personally can always use more kick practice, so this was fine. And again, every moment of contact allowed a small part of the day’s troubles to fall away.

Sidekick: release.
Roundhouse: release.
Hook kick: release.
Crescent kick: release.

The deeper I got into the exercise, the less my surroundings mattered. Even the Former Gifted Kid part of myself that overthinks and overanalyzes every technique and mistake fell silent. The precision didn’t matter, only that I was doing it at all.

Healer Alex March often talks on her Instagram page about how beneficial Jiu Jitsu has been for her own healing. In a recent post she wrote:

Suffering on the mats has changed me. Jiujitsu healed so much trauma sitting in my body. It’s made me find myself again, but discover a version I didn’t know existed. It made me have to let go of so much delusion and lose any form of ego I had.

I’ve been part of my karate system for nearly 6 years. For large chunks of that time my felt need for perfection at all times ruled the day, and as eager as I’ve been to learn, grow, and progress that mindset has also hindered me. It took this long to finally shift my perspective, to see it more the way Alex and most other martial arts practitioners see what they do.

Who I was when I walked onto the mat on this particular night was not who walked off. Instead of what I thought I needed, I received what I truly needed.

A steady rain had begun sometime during class, and my car was parked on the far side of the parking lot. I walked into it slowly, receiving this additional cleansing before driving home.