When I was a kid, I saw Shogun, a TV mini-series aired in 1980. It was about an English explorer who became part of Japanese society. After it was over, I was completely taken in by the katana and Japanese culture. I was in karate, and I was already enthralled with Kung fu from that TV show, which aired in the 70s.
I was raised by hippie parents who were always making stuff from leather. They had artist friends, and I supposed they were artists themselves. I also grew up in Brooklyn during a violent time; there were cops chasing robbers; in fact, while playing on the sidewalk, an armed robber jumped over me, fleeing from a policeman. Both men had a gun drawn. There were many other instances, but I don’t want to come across in a bragging type of way. I am creating the context of my childhood. In other writings, I have discussed the level of bullying I lived through as well. I have always had these seemingly dual paths, that of the artist and the man of violence. These dual paths pushed me towards new ideas and stressed the need for self-defense.
Seeing, Shogun inspired me to make a bokken out of hardwood and start practicing cuts. I wanted to pursue weapon study further, but my Sensei didn’t teach weapons until one was a black belt. Disappointed but not dissuaded, I explored other ways to learn about weapons and frequented China Town in NY and purchased some weapons like nunchucks and staffs, etc. I knew from then on weapons would always be in my life.
I remember sitting in karate after class, and we were all talking; well, the senior students and sensei were talking. I was listening because that was what kids did back then. I was a young 15-year-old. In the days before karate kid, there were no kid classes. You worked out with adults and sparred with them. Anyway, the highest-ranking student said he was going to Japan to study karate and live there. I remember thinking that was about the coolest thing ever.
And here is where we get to the point of the story, deep in my heart, I was ecstatic about the thought of living in Japan, but it never occurred to me that I could actually do it. Whether we attribute that to low socioeconomic status or low self-esteem, it seemed beyond my reach, and further, no one in my life would tell me I could actually make that happen.
After that moment in the dojo, I went on many journeys and adventures but never made it to Japan. I am writing this mostly to my kids who don’t seem to have a direction yet, and I want to let them know how to recognize that feeling when their heart leaps and that they can make it happen. They may not get to the highest levels, but they can certainly get where they want to go.
I am not writing this out of regret; I still practice martial arts religiously 43 years later. Not many people can say that. In some respects, my journey might be the one I was supposed to be on all along. However, it is always good to remind people, especially young people; they can pursue what makes their hearts leap.
The idea of Japan in my heart at 15 was more important to me than actually going there; perhaps that idea was a rough but concrete marker for the martial path, a path that is still to this day my North Star.
