Bruises: A strange badge of honor

When I thought last week about writing a post on how I’ve changed since I started training at Shinobi Martial Arts, my brain shot off in a million directions.  My experiences have been as uniquely my own as they are similar to others, I suspect.  I could rattle off a whole host of things that would sound hollow to some, but might ring true for others.  In the end, I decided that I do not have sufficient literary prowess to convey the depth and breadth of my own changes.  How do you explain changes that go to the core of your very existence?  Words may be powerful, but somehow they are also lacking.  Tonight as I sat down to try and reflect again, I found myself staring at my recent bruises and realized how, for me, these marks neatly summarize a host of changes.

Although it was half a lifetime ago, there was a time when the presence of bruising on my being scared the heck out of me.  I spent a good deal of time and large amounts of mental effort to hide them.  What could I wear to cover them?  If they were seen inadvertently, what excuse could I reasonably and believably make?  Boy have things changed…

Today I look at my bruises and laugh at the mistakes I made to get them.  Each mistake is my own and even if they were brain dead stupid, I own them.  The fact is that for each of them, I was willing to throw a punch, make a grab or kick.  I chose action over retreat.  That is lesson one: I have choices.  I can act, react or do nothing at all and in every situation there will be a different result.  While that is a huge lesson in itself, each mark also teaches me something specific.  The one on my outer thigh taught me that while flexibility can be an advantage, it can equally be a disadvantage (that and I really need to work on my ukemi!).  The one on my bicep tells me that it is important to go with an attack, to rechannel that frustration and tension of the hit away from that which is being hit.  The two on my forearm tell me that it is as important to be aware of where your attackers elbows are as much as your own.  The lack of bruises on my left side tell me that I need to stop favoring my right side.  My body is a veritable map of recent lessons.

Today when I comment on my bruises, it is not to explain them away.  It is not to say “poor me” either.  It is to say “look where I am” and “look what I’ve learned.”  The bruises of the past have lessons of their own that I still struggle to understand, but they told a story of a person that was.  The bruises of today tell a story not only of a person who is, but they also hold the promise of a person to come.  They are not a badge of shame or defeat, but rather honor.  I honor them for what they have to teach.  They, in turn, honor my choices, my experiences.

Danielle DeBlois
SMAC Student