Part 1: Embodying My Authentic Self

I was in my early 30s when I was gifted a starter package to a local karate dojo as a Christmas present from my partner. My first encounter with the dojo was during the introductory private lesson.

All knowledge I had regarding martial arts was comprised entirely of film images. I entered the dojo with expectations of my physical prowess being sharpened, and my skills quickly developed. I imagined myself becoming the next Avenger.

Excitedly, I step on the dojo mats for the first time, eager to jump in and learn exciting new skills. However, getting my body parts to move as prescribed, was far more challenging than anticipated. The Sensei would give an instruction of a basic technique then follow with a demonstration that made each move look effortless. Yet, with each attempt to mirror the movements, my body was a disenfranchised other, that refused to participate as my mind intended. I was awkward and lacking in any apparent hand-eye coordination. I could not reactively differentiate between my right and left appendages.

I was shocked at the disconnection between my mind and body. The experience was humbling, to say the least. Self-criticism abounded. "I was old and out of shape." I had never considered myself uncoordinated before, but that awareness suddenly became brutally apparent. Yet, despite all the self-identified physical lacking, I felt alive in my body in a way that I could not articulate at the time. It was a pivotal moment in my personal development and future trajectory. My spirit was lifted as if an internal spark was lit.

Challenge excepted. I was eager to continue.

The following years of rigorous training, leading to me teaching classes as an advanced student, then eventually earning my black belt and becoming a full-fledged instructor of the dojo; was a never-ending rollercoaster comprised of joy-pain. I lived in multiple realities of mother, wife, bartender, martial arts student, and Sensei. There was continual tension between my realities of mother-wife-student. I constantly felt guilty because I should be training more while simultaneously feeling guilty for leaving my family to train. The push-pull tension kept me operating at maximum capacity. My view of Self was shifting in a continual spiral of struggle-growth, failure-achievement, and novice-advancement, which helped forge me into who I am today. It was the hardest thing I have ever accomplished and likely ever will; it paved the way for all I have since achieved.

Each rank test would bring me face to face with internalized limitations. To pass each test, I had to first shatter my self-doubts. It was my ability to face the "suck of it" that allowed me room to progress up the spiral of growth. My willingness to face being new and terrible at something, pushing through the mental and physical fatigue, afforded me the achievement of a black belt.

My motivation to see this all the way through to my black belt reinforced my desire to push past socially prescribed roles of female weakness to live up to my desire to be strong. I needed to get my black belt in order to prove to myself and the world I was not like other girls because I had internalized the false notion that being female meant weakness. I was initially unaware of the limits I placed on myself due to gender constructs. I assumed to be good at martial arts, I must embrace masculine qualities, yet there was a growing tension inside me. The healer and within me cried to be seen. As the years progressed and I advanced in rank and experience, I realized that being female was not a symptom of inherent weakness but rather one of strength.

Ironically, there were more high-ranking adult females at the dojo than males. Two of my black belt predecessors were powerful women who helped pave my way, inspired and encouraged me. No adult male other than my Sensei had gone before me. Most of the adult men would start but drop out not long after reaching their second belt test. Their commonsense world left no room for them to face the "suck" that was required.

In contrast, the socially prescribed norms that women are bad at sports and unathletic seemed to afford space within their self-view to allow them to do something challenging and persist, even if they were not naturally good at it. This awareness helped to further shift my province of meaning around what it is to be a martial artist and what it is to be a woman.

Many women would attend classes to interact and bond with their children and remain steadfast in their training even after their children lost interest. I witnessed many adult ladies begin with low confidence and low skill. Initially, many only trained because "they were there all the time anyways, might as well get some exercise", then they would morph into an embodied state of authenticity and presence. It was this shift in personality and confidence that caught my attention.

I saw this shift in everyone who had the wherewithal to make it into advanced ranks. Some children would often start at their parent's urging because they needed to get out of their shells. A greater sense of independence and esteem was gained through greater physical awareness. Others would be enrolled because they required "discipline" or an outlet for all their energy. Countless mothers would report back many months later about the shift that had taken place in their child's demeanor and behaviors.

While my martial arts journey never amounted to a movie-like perfection of my skills, it shifted my level of awareness into one of focus and presence. Only when I could leave behind my overthinking mind constantly turned on outside the dojo could I master the skill or opponent I faced. Through my training, I fostered greater self-awareness through embodiment. My mind-body connection was strong, and my spirit was in harmony with Self. Forged by the fires of challenge and triumph, I shifted my understanding of what it means to be a strong and powerful woman.

It took a little more than seven years to earn my black belt. I learned so much about myself through the experience and was able to honor both my feminine and masculine sides. No longer at war with myself, I found my authentic whole Self that had been waiting for me all along, hidden beneath layers of social programming and self-doubt.

I was on fire and wanted to share what I had gained with others. As I coach and mentor, I noticed how the mind-body connection aided others in their personal growth. I knew the phenomenon I witnessed was not unique to martial arts training. My spark was lit, and I knew I was ready for the next step in my personal growth...