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pegkerrI have gone through both athletic and non-athletic phases in my life. I studied ballet as a kid, and i really seriously wanted to become professional for awhile. I got to the point where I was studying toe, but then my teacher moved out of town, leaving me high and dry. I was probably an above-average ballet student; I was certainly enthusiastic, but I wasn't great. Toe was painful, too, damn it, and I knew I could expect more pain if I continued. It was difficult to find a professional caliber teacher to continue. And, kiss of death, I read a book (don't remember the title) which advised that if you want to be a professional, you should expect not to go to college. Well! I was probably ignorant to take one person's word for it, but there was no doubt in my mind that I was going to college. So that was the end of my ballet career.
I grew up in Illinois, the one state in the country which (very sensibly, I think) required daily gym classes for all students all the way through high school. I participated quite willingly in gym, in a wide variety of physical activities, but never got involved in athletic teams--I was too busy with studies and drama. I flirted with running for a little bit in high school, in the interests of physical conditioning, but quit before long. I hated running (and still do).
In my thirties I got interesting in working out, again out of a dutiful sense of I should do this, and I bought a few exercise videos, but again, only did it sporadically.
Then in my late thirties, I was put on some medication that made me gain twenty-five pounds in about a year and a half. For the first time in my life, i was overweight, if only slightly. I started reading more, bought more exercise videos and DVDs and started exercising regularly four years ago.
It never really occurred to me, "I want to do karate!" Oh, I saw the Karate Kid movies, but I never was into Hong Kong action flicks. Karate was something other people did. Not me.
I have never been attacked physically, whether by friend or stranger. But as a woman growing up in America, I have often thought about protecting my physical safety. And I have had some scares, incidents that made me uneasy, things that made me think I might have been in danger, but the situation defused itself, the (possible) predator moved on. I have mentioned that I took a self-defense class in high school, which I appreciated, although I wondered whether I would be able to use the lessons in an emergency. Could I really defend myself if needed?
And then I had two beautiful little girls and, as I said, my internal underlying chant changed from protect self became protect them.
For a variety of reasons which I won't enumerate at length, we received the recommendation that Delia study karate. I asked![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kiramartin for advice, because I knew her son was studying, and she directed us to our current dojo. We have been there ever since. I genuinely like the teachers, it is convenient, and it seems a pretty good fit with our family.
I have covered much of what I've learned in my various karate entries (see here). Because of the way we started it, with Delia being the first to start, then Fiona, and then me, my experience of studying karate is wrapped up in my parenting. I have to balance what I am learning with what Fiona and Delia are learning. It has offered all sorts of opportunities to talk about discipline, tenacity, success, failure, healthy bodies and positive body issues, self-defense, assessing threats, sportsmanship, performance anxiety, and a host of other issues.
i have my own issues, too, some of which I don't talk about with them. I find that I am re-living some of the experience I had studying ballet: I am trying to learn about a precise art with a long history, and I am both pleased with my (slowly) growing mastery and immensely frustrated with my body's limitations--I'm getting there, but a lot less quickly than I would like. I want to be perfect instantly, but alas, that is not possible. In ballet, my biggest problem was an inflexible back and faulty foot alignment. In karate, it's my hips and (lack) of general flexibility. Like ballet, karate eats up more and more time as you get more serious about it. It is a real conflict with what used to be my writing time (and I wonder if I've turned to karate because it gives me an excuse not to work on the book). It is also very very expensive, and I fret: is it better to study karate than to put aside more money for college? Retire credit card debt? How about retirement? Am I being profligate and selfish, or are the benefits to the girls worth it? How do I balance my needs with theirs?
We were doing marching basics last night, and as I executed the crisp folds of the sudo block, low block, it felt like the joy I used to feel about executing a perfect pirouette. But more than that, when I do karate, I feel dangerous in a way I have never felt before. When I think about facing a predator now, I think not only he might do this, I might do this. I also think about his surprise and his fear when he suddenly realizes What the--damn, I picked the wrong woman to mess with. This is curious, exciting, unsettling, even intoxicating. I feel I am becoming a warrior, a secret one, who drives an old used car and hectors her kids about homework, but when backed up against the wall, can (someday) kick butt with the best of them and save the helpless under my care. And when a man inches taller than me and sixty pounds heavier stares at me fiercely and then throws a punch and I block it with a snap (*hesitates to post this and then says in a rush*) it feels dead sexy. Ahem. I feel dead sexy.
(Whew. I'm going to have to think about that some more. That feels mighty strange to admit.)
I feel that by taking karate, I am fighting a rear guard action on my body's aging, one that most woman wouldn't think of doing. And I feel rather proud of myself for taking this risk, for throwing myself into this study the way I have. Or perhaps it is not denying my body's aging, struggling against it, but a vote of optimism in aging: yes, you may be getting older, but see, you are still powerful, yes, your body can still do things. It is a vote of confidence in myself.
But I have to face a big decision: Should I go for the black belt? Sensei is asking again whether we want to sign the long-term contract.
It is a huge commitment. Money. (And even MORE money, the longer we wait to contract; they want you to lock rates in early.) Time. Possibly the risk of physical damage. Possibly a setback to my writing career (what writing career?) It is particularly fraught because it is a decision for all three of us. Fiona definitely wants to go for it, but Delia is more doubtful, because she doesn't like sparring as much as Fiona did. If Fiona decides yes and Delia decides no, that makes my decision particularly difficult. We started Delia in karate so she could feel mastery over her sister in something. What if the girls don't want to do it at all and I do? Will the family put up with my absence night after night?
Good lord, I've written enough. If people have questions, I will flesh this out if need be.
I grew up in Illinois, the one state in the country which (very sensibly, I think) required daily gym classes for all students all the way through high school. I participated quite willingly in gym, in a wide variety of physical activities, but never got involved in athletic teams--I was too busy with studies and drama. I flirted with running for a little bit in high school, in the interests of physical conditioning, but quit before long. I hated running (and still do).
In my thirties I got interesting in working out, again out of a dutiful sense of I should do this, and I bought a few exercise videos, but again, only did it sporadically.
Then in my late thirties, I was put on some medication that made me gain twenty-five pounds in about a year and a half. For the first time in my life, i was overweight, if only slightly. I started reading more, bought more exercise videos and DVDs and started exercising regularly four years ago.
It never really occurred to me, "I want to do karate!" Oh, I saw the Karate Kid movies, but I never was into Hong Kong action flicks. Karate was something other people did. Not me.
I have never been attacked physically, whether by friend or stranger. But as a woman growing up in America, I have often thought about protecting my physical safety. And I have had some scares, incidents that made me uneasy, things that made me think I might have been in danger, but the situation defused itself, the (possible) predator moved on. I have mentioned that I took a self-defense class in high school, which I appreciated, although I wondered whether I would be able to use the lessons in an emergency. Could I really defend myself if needed?
And then I had two beautiful little girls and, as I said, my internal underlying chant changed from protect self became protect them.
For a variety of reasons which I won't enumerate at length, we received the recommendation that Delia study karate. I asked
kiramartin for advice, because I knew her son was studying, and she directed us to our current dojo. We have been there ever since. I genuinely like the teachers, it is convenient, and it seems a pretty good fit with our family. I have covered much of what I've learned in my various karate entries (see here). Because of the way we started it, with Delia being the first to start, then Fiona, and then me, my experience of studying karate is wrapped up in my parenting. I have to balance what I am learning with what Fiona and Delia are learning. It has offered all sorts of opportunities to talk about discipline, tenacity, success, failure, healthy bodies and positive body issues, self-defense, assessing threats, sportsmanship, performance anxiety, and a host of other issues.
i have my own issues, too, some of which I don't talk about with them. I find that I am re-living some of the experience I had studying ballet: I am trying to learn about a precise art with a long history, and I am both pleased with my (slowly) growing mastery and immensely frustrated with my body's limitations--I'm getting there, but a lot less quickly than I would like. I want to be perfect instantly, but alas, that is not possible. In ballet, my biggest problem was an inflexible back and faulty foot alignment. In karate, it's my hips and (lack) of general flexibility. Like ballet, karate eats up more and more time as you get more serious about it. It is a real conflict with what used to be my writing time (and I wonder if I've turned to karate because it gives me an excuse not to work on the book). It is also very very expensive, and I fret: is it better to study karate than to put aside more money for college? Retire credit card debt? How about retirement? Am I being profligate and selfish, or are the benefits to the girls worth it? How do I balance my needs with theirs?
We were doing marching basics last night, and as I executed the crisp folds of the sudo block, low block, it felt like the joy I used to feel about executing a perfect pirouette. But more than that, when I do karate, I feel dangerous in a way I have never felt before. When I think about facing a predator now, I think not only he might do this, I might do this. I also think about his surprise and his fear when he suddenly realizes What the--damn, I picked the wrong woman to mess with. This is curious, exciting, unsettling, even intoxicating. I feel I am becoming a warrior, a secret one, who drives an old used car and hectors her kids about homework, but when backed up against the wall, can (someday) kick butt with the best of them and save the helpless under my care. And when a man inches taller than me and sixty pounds heavier stares at me fiercely and then throws a punch and I block it with a snap (*hesitates to post this and then says in a rush*) it feels dead sexy. Ahem. I feel dead sexy.
(Whew. I'm going to have to think about that some more. That feels mighty strange to admit.)
I feel that by taking karate, I am fighting a rear guard action on my body's aging, one that most woman wouldn't think of doing. And I feel rather proud of myself for taking this risk, for throwing myself into this study the way I have. Or perhaps it is not denying my body's aging, struggling against it, but a vote of optimism in aging: yes, you may be getting older, but see, you are still powerful, yes, your body can still do things. It is a vote of confidence in myself.
But I have to face a big decision: Should I go for the black belt? Sensei is asking again whether we want to sign the long-term contract.
It is a huge commitment. Money. (And even MORE money, the longer we wait to contract; they want you to lock rates in early.) Time. Possibly the risk of physical damage. Possibly a setback to my writing career (what writing career?) It is particularly fraught because it is a decision for all three of us. Fiona definitely wants to go for it, but Delia is more doubtful, because she doesn't like sparring as much as Fiona did. If Fiona decides yes and Delia decides no, that makes my decision particularly difficult. We started Delia in karate so she could feel mastery over her sister in something. What if the girls don't want to do it at all and I do? Will the family put up with my absence night after night?
Good lord, I've written enough. If people have questions, I will flesh this out if need be.
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Re: Your personal fulfillment vs your perceived responsibilities
Date: 2005-07-16 08:07 pm (UTC)I am emotionally incapable of impartially addressing the issue about writing. My self-esteem is so tied up in "getting a book published by New York" and has been since I was a kid that I can't imagine any time at which I wouldn't be insanely working toward this goal . . . if I had ever had an agent, a mentor, any encouragement, or kind of legit publication, I would not be able to consider not submitting. But I do know this: if you no longer feel the creative drive, it isn't worth it. It's a lot of work (you already know this) and stress, and there's such a chance of rejection and belittlement . . . well, another creative outlet might be just fine. Writing fiction and selling it is much tougher than most other creative outlets in that your work is not respected unless you get "the big kahuna." Having a number of works that have been liked by no one but yourself gets kind of old. :) The reason most writers do it is that they need to expend the energy in that creative drive. If that need of yours is already fulfilled by other things, don't feel guilty that you don't write. It doesn't matter--if you have already published, you already have "been there" and you know whether you want it badly enough to put everything else aside and pursue it. The market is so tough, now that everyone and his horse has a computer and is writing a book and has access to critique groups. When I was eleven and pounding out stupid little stories on my dad's portable Remington and sending them to the New Yorker (sigh, but I got back priceless little scribbled encouragements on the rejection slips that I had kept up until my mother's house fire--things like "Sorry, but keep trying" and "You're getting there" from interns who obviously knew I was a rugrat and were trying to be nice-and I had English teachers who constantly said I was good, as well, which kept me deluded), I didn't have the kind of competition I have now. Now there isn't the additional obstacle of retyping pages with more than three errors, putting the paper in and getting it aligned, and all the physical hassle associated with doing it on the typewriter. It's so easy to edit, reprint, and submit. So now everyone tries to write a novel. *sigh* Well, I can't put them down because I'm swimming right alongside the rest of the unwashed masses, but I would say that if any other creative activity fulfills that drive, that need, DO THAT ONE INSTEAD, because it's bound to be less awful to live through. The music is an immediate reward of its own...the drawing is, as well, to some extent...the crafts definitely are (my friend knits, and no one says her stuff needs re-knitting or that her style is stupid. They are on waiting lists to receive her hats and tea cozies. Ugly or not. *grin*)
You are lucky to NOT have the pressure to "prove yourself." You have published books. When you say to people, "I write novels," you have proof. There is nothing else you need to do in order to prove yourself to people or show that you aren't making it up. If the pleasure of being in the flow state and turning out pages (and later revising them) is not there for you, then don't bother to do it. As I said, it takes so much work. And when you're in the middle of a book, either writing or revising, then you think about that all the time and will leap up from the dinner table or pull over while driving to scribble down a line of dialogue. This irritates whoever you're with. It eats up your life.
If you currently know editors who actually ask you what you have and say that they'd like to see it . . . well, I can't imagine being in that position, but I know that would make you feel guilty that you don't have anything to send. Still, it doesn't matter. You're not "throwing the chances away." You have simply moved on to another phase that fulfills you more. At least that's the way I see it.
But then I am no expert. Take that for what it is--a musing from someone who always feels she can give advice, for some crazy reason. :)