Woven In the Fabric

It's strange calling it a white uniform, when it is clearly stained and denatured to such off a white.

But every time I make these creases, every fold and bind, the lessons come flooding back in.  The ones that hurt, the ones that helped me put myself back together, the ones I missed, the ones I wish I could teach, the ones that changed my life.  Even reminds me of the ones that I may never learn.  I’m so desperate to pass all that on and mirror that as a teacher, but this art is meant to be experiential and not rote, most ESPECIALLY in a world that is no longer familiar with the practice of barefoot and unarmed combat.  That’s the beauty and the reality of the practice: that in the meticulously shaped and synchronized swing of arm and thrust of leg, there are a thousand worlds being explored.

A dream I didn't know I had, but really always had, came to pass today.  And I wish to god that it didn't come at the end of such an ordeal, a separation anxiety from a decade of real work and denial of need, from being neglected and taken for granted in the trenches of teaching the next generation.

My favorite teachers, and the ones I try to emulate, are the ones enlightened in understanding that they didn't have the answers to everything, and had the humility to admit that to their students with an honest and self-self-depracating sense of humor.  They were curious, investigative, communicative, and humble.  They knew how to teach because they knew how to keep learning.

The teachers we become fundamentally stem from the students always we strive to be.  Here's to the hope that I can live up to my own expectations, put away the past and become something better.

Earth-Shattering Revelation: Don't be surprised by your students' success and constantly exalt them in that.  Expect achievement and make accolades commonplace.