I was reading Robert Aiken recently, and found something that really gave me an “ah ha!” He was talking about a popular spiritual teacher, who he didn’t name. He said

His writings sparkle with genuine insight, yet something is awry… What went wrong here? I think he chose a short cut to teaching. My impression is that he underwent a genuine religious experience, but missed the vital, step-by-step training which in Zen Buddhist tradition comes after realization.

It makes so much sense! And now I’m remembering my karate teacher saying that the black belt means that you’re now ready to start training. Same idea, huh?

The difference is that while some of us had intense training before getting sick, most of us disabled folk who come to the martial arts come with the mind of a newborn, and the body of an old man. We have all the weakness, but we haven’t trained our spirit to compensate.

But it is what it is. I am not the young boy Master Deshimaru speaks of, and I am not the old man. I am this young-old woman, in this unbalanced body. I think that if I could ask him today how to balance those things, he’d remind me: I am in this particular place, in this particular moment, facing this particular technique, as best I can remember it with this particular mind, as well as I can with this particular body. And when this one is done, there will be another.

The good news is that I’m learning things. I think it’s taken me this long to get the big lesson through my head, the one about taking care of myself.

I thought I was getting it, but only recently have I really been able to set aside my obligations and go to bed if I need to, or even go sit by the river and watch the geese. In my old life, that would have counted as “wasting time” and “goofing off.” Now, sometimes it’s the only hope I have today of being well enough to work tomorrow.

So no Karate for now. My new love is my bike. And it hardly hurts at all to ride.

The warm-up exhausted me, really. Twenty minutes of jogging, pushups, situps, etc., plus drills on kicks from the floor. I had to take a break in the middle, and even after the break, I had to slow down a lot. That is, the class was kicking, and I went off to the side and paced. But what amazed me—after I’d felt so completely wiped out by the warmup—was that after a while I was able to come back and finish the class.

There were a few times during class when I had to work to keep from crying. But I managed, until the class was over and I was in the car. Then, about thirty seconds of stress-crying, and I was done.

…until last week.

The dojo was closed on Monday and Tuesday for Independence Day. And Wednesday I got sick. It was clear that I was really ill, and couldn’t do class, but psychology, it was still a battle.

When you have Fibromyalgia, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, or another chronic, invisible illness, healthy people — even if they’re too nice to say so — wonder if you could try a little harder, if you’re drinking enough water, if you would do better if you’d get out more. But what many people don’t realize is that we have those same doubts. Most of us, anyway. And no matter how clear it is that no, I really couldn’t try any harder, the doubts come up.

When today came around and I wasn’t sick anymore, it was time to go back to the dojo. Scary! I have this nagging devil in my mind that says that I only missed class because I’m lazy. (Laziness is another word for Fibromyalgia, don’t you know.) That same devil was saying that I shouldn’t go back, it will be too hard, I may not be completely better, it will be too much.

But, as always, in the end I could say “I did it!” I can still, hours later, feel it. And I’m a little woozy, looking forward to bed.

But I’m also looking forward to class tomorrow. Life is good.

Our culture says “I’ve hired you as a teacher, so it’s your job to provide me with a facility (dojo), and to provide me with training.” I’m told that traditional Japanese culture, and our dojo’s culture, says “thank you for being willing to share your wisdom with me. How can I ever repay you?” I like the latter approach. It feels right.

That said, I wasn’t planning to sign up. I didn’t think I could do anything helpful, because of my illness. By now, though, I’m beginning to feel much less weak, much more capable.

So today I climbed the stairs several times, climbed a ladder even more times, and used a heavy drill to screw in drywall screws.

I’m sore, but very happy.

Hey! Now I finally have that athletic soreness. Wonder if that means I’m getting better?

The regular class starts right after the beginners’ class ends, and, after a few minutes’ rest, I decided I wanted to do it, today. What was I thinking?!

Of course it was “too much.” This time I wasn’t so scared, though, and I wasn’t so red. I rested for a long time before I got a shower. All in all it took me another hour to get out of there. But I felt good.

I went, and it wasn’t bad at all. Well, it was hard, but that’s good. I got to find out that I could still get through a hard class.

Have to remember to pace myself, kick low and slow when I need to.