Defense Against the Dark Arts

A quick note: All the quotes of my instructor are paraphrased. It drives me crazy, but I can't have my notebooklet on the mat, so all of this is from memory.

I love my Aikido instructor. He's a modern knight, full of chivalry but with more respect for the strength of women. He's old Japanese wisdom mixed with modern volunteer fireman. 

Sometimes he gives us "speeches." We all sit on the floor in two long rows, the way we sit when learning a new technique. He paces in front of us. Today he asked if we had heard about what happened at Fort Hood. Most of us said yes, but only a couple of people knew details. Collectively, we filled each other in.

I'm not going to attempt to describe what happened at Fort Hood, because I wasn't there, I haven't been watching the news or reading the newspaper, and I don't think I'm qualified to write about it. I think people mostly get the general idea at least, so this should be enough context.

After we finished comparing details and settled on the story, he posed a question. "If someone walked in the door with a gun right now, what would you do?"

Silence.

Then one of us said "Run toward him."

My instructor nodded. "That's absolutely right. That's our army guy. He's a soldier. Part time, but he's a soldier."

I don't know about everyone else, but I was thoroughly confused. He explained, though, that if everyone in the large, open room turned and ran away from the gunman, dropped to the floor, or jumped behind something, nothing would be stopping him from killing all of us at his leisure. Hopefully at least a few people would make it out the back door, but most would die. If four or five of the people closest to the gunman ran toward him and the rest ran for the back door, there is a chance one of them would stop him and even if they didn't, only those four or five would die.

He said the reason he asked, the reason he was talking about it, is because death is real. Often we're really removed from it, but things like what happened at Fort Hood remind us. Usually it happens to someone else, but not always. Someone has to be that someone else. He talked about the odds of assault, especially for women.

"What are you gonna do?"

"Start crying," one girl said. We all laughed, but then he continued.

"If a man attacked you, what would you do? How far would you be willing to go to stop him? If you were pinned, and had a clear shot, would you be willing to pop his eye out?" We cringed. He continued.

"Now I'm not sayin' you should go around attacking people for looking at you the wrong way, or that fighting is always the best idea. My Japanese sensei, who was about 60 years old when I met him, five foot two, a black belt and general badass, was asked "What would you do if a man pointed a gun at you and asked for your wallet?"" He pantomimed pulling out his wallet. "The point is to be prepared to do whatever you need to do to survive. If he takes your wallet and leaves, great. If you have the opportunity to run, great."

When he paused for a moment, another girl raised her hand. She asked, "So how do you take a guy's eye out?" We all laughed, especially my instructor. He quickly grew serious again, though.

"The way to gouge someone's eye out is to decide within yourself that you will stop at nothing to stop him."

This idea that life, including one's own, is worth defending... worth living...

"This is universal. Regardless of nationality, race, color, creed, or religion, parents will do anything to protect their children, including die. Do that for yourself, too."

My survival instinct is incredibly weak. I know I would die for someone else, but I don't know how much I would do to defend myself. I'm more likely to do nothing and make my peace with dying. This idea is so strange to me... that my life is worth defending, too. 

"Now I'm old. I come from the old days, and I believe when you see something wrong happening, you don't just sit there. You stop it. Don't hesitate. Today we sit back and worry about causing a scene, and try to reconcile it later. Don't hesitate. The scene is already started. This is just my opinion, but if a person tries to take the lives of others, he forfeits his own life. He has made that decision, and I would not hesitate to take his life to save the others."

"Don't hold back."

Whenever he talks to us this way, he always adds disclaimers. "Yes, I know this is just a one hour P.E. class. No big deal. I know it's just one class in your four years here..." I sit there and think, No it isn't. Of course it isn't just a class. Of course it's important. This is right up there with Caswell. The last time he spoke about something similar, I wanted to tell him I appreciated everything he said, but I didn't do it because I wasn't sure that I should. Today I resolved to thank him after class for his "speech."

He said that he just wanted us to think about it. He wanted us to be aware of it. "If someone attacks you, and you're prepared mentally, you can handle it. If you're not, you're struggling to keep up. If you're smarter, stronger, he's struggling to keep up."

He told us to keep all of this in mind when we warmed up today. Sometimes, when we do the various exercises, we let our feet drop to the floor or do our push-ups higher at the end because it hurts and we're tired. Today we were thinking about gunmen, about carrying people, about defending ourselves. My feet never touched the floor. I did every push-up. I kept myself above the ground for the full minute. I ran with Meredith on my back and didn't cut corners.

I thought about what it means to be a soldier. The guy in my class who answered that first question is a soldier of the U.S. Army, but all the rest of us are soldiers, too. Any of us is capable of throwing someone, breaking and dislocating joints, even killing someone. But we are all soldiers. College students are soldiers. Mothers are soldiers. Handicapped people are soldiers. Old people are soldiers. Children are soldiers.

At some time, we are all fighting something. We are all defending something. We are all soldiers. I am a soldier.

I'm so small. I'm so aware of it, especially in Aikido. We did an exercise once where instead of rolling normally, we rolled over weighted bags, and then over people. I was one of the ones on the ground, and I was smaller than the bags. I can't lift a person on my shoulder--the muscle strength is simply not there. But I can carry someone on my back. 

I'm so glad I chose Aikido instead of Jui Jitsu. I'm sure Jui Jitsu is awesome, too, but Aikido is perfect for me. No matter how strong someone is, if he loses his balance, he falls. No matter how strong someone is, he has the same bone structure and placement of joints. No matter how strong someone is, I can defend myself against him. When you use Aikido, you fight with something instead of against it. Your opponent's strength is your strength.

After class, I thanked my instructor for his speech. I told him it meant a lot to me, and Aikido does, too. I didn't say anything about depression, lacking a will to live, or beginning to see a way to find it through his class. I can see boundaries, and I don't want to seem too weird. Regardless, he was really happy, and thanked me for saying something. He said he hesitates to get too serious and doesn't want to take the fun out of the class, but thinks it's important.

I talked to him for several minutes, and he told me something else interesting. A man who is roughly the same size, same age, and exercises the same amount as a woman will have more upper body strength. However, lower body strength is roughly the same. I didn't know that second thing.

"You don't have to be stronger. You just have to be smarter."

I've been thinking about taking Aikido again next semester. I need another P.E. credit, and I was hoping I might be able to get it by taking Aikido twice. When I asked him about it, he said he didn't know, but encouraged me to keep coming to Aikido at the rec if I wanted to regardless of the class. If I wanted to get ranked, I would have to join the federation, but I could still come whether I did that or not.

He said something else that shocked me. "We have all kinds of people who come to Aikido at the rec. Some of them just come a few times, others join and stop at a brown belt, but some stay longer and think about trying for a black belt someday. I don't know what I'm gonna do when Mario graduates, though. Maybe you'll step up and be my assistant in a year or two."

I thought he was joking, but he was really serious. I'm sure there are other people more qualified who will probably be his next assistant, but it amazes me that he thinks I could do that. To think that a small, timid female could assist teaching an Aikido class. I doubt it will happen, but I love the idea that something like that is possible.

And I love that I'll be able to keep doing Aikido.

I felt so good when I left. Only once have I ever gone to Aikido in low spirits and not felt better afterward. Today I felt amazing. I felt so strong and clean and capable. I rode Schwinny back to campus, and then I decided to walk to lunch because it was so beautiful outside.

I looked at everything, the sky, the buildings, the sidewalk, the trees and their colorful falling leaves, and I found that even biking is too fast for appreciating the world I'm passing through. I believe if I spent a day sitting outside, I would find that walking is too fast, too. Even sitting may be too fast.

I loved walking. I loved the motion, and I thought of Caswell's book, An Inside Passage. Walking is good for the soul. I said hello to everyone I passed whether they looked at me or not.

I had a nice lunch, and sat comfortably with two strangers. I usually eat alone, either to think or out of laziness. When I left, I meandered around campus for a while just to watch the world.

My face is working. It's slow, but I don't feel so frozen. Normally I feel stuck and have to think about smiling, laughing, or anything else. But today I've been able to react to things almost easily for the first time in months. I think about a year, actually. Or maybe longer.

When I went with everyone on the art trail, I felt able to talk to everyone. That isn't to say I did a very good job of it, but it was amazing to feel that way. I was so happy. I wanted someone to ask "How are you?" so that I could say "Absolutely fantastic," but I didn't feel that I had to. I was so happy. I still felt a fundamental separation from humanity, but I felt much, much closer than I have in such a long time.

I also got Dr. Smith's message of appreciation today. He's so incredibly kind, to send us a message just to say he's proud of us and to hang in there.

This was the best day I've had in months. Usually I feel I'm made more of thoughts than physical substance. I'm usually more like a ghost. Today I was human.

So here it is. Proof. It's possible.

I just want you to know. The world is incredibly beautiful. Your life is worth living, and worth defending. It doesn't matter how strong your attacker is, human or otherwise. Move with it. It doesn't matter if you are small. You are strong.

Don't hold back. Live.