A Lesson Learned

By Charles Barnes, FJJA

I am a Jukido student at the Florida Jukido Jujitsu Academy in Palm Coast, Florida. I am 41 years old, and a father of three. I am 6th kyu, and I dedicate a portion of EVERY day to my Jukido training. I have been attending Rego Sensei’s class since June of 2004, and strive to always give 125%. To me the codes of Bushido are not just words, but are tenets to live by. I am constantly trying to improve my Jukido, and in turn, am dedicated to my sensei. He has dedicated his life to teaching us; so I attend each class ready to learn, and give him my all.

On July 9th, 2005, I received startling news. It was a Monday, and when I awakened I noticed a pain in my left side, on my rib cage. As our dojo had had a particularly aggressive throwing session two days earlier, I thought perhaps that when one of the dans had thrown me I had missed my slap, and landed on my ribs. It was more a soreness than anything, so I planned to take it easy throughout the day until my Jukido class in the evening. (As the Marine Corp says “pain is only weakness leaving your body.”) By 3pm, I was in considerable pain. I decided to take a nap, still planning on attending my evening Jukido class. At around 4:30 I awakened with severe pain radiating down my left arm, and up my neck. I was pretty sure I was having a heart attack. Long story short; my wife rushed me to the ER where they diagnosed me with ‘bilateral pulmonary embolism.’ (Blood clots on both lungs). They put me in ICU for 3 days, and I spent another 6 days in a special ward for patients who need extra attention. On my first day in ICU, a doctor came in and told me my martial arts career was over. That was the most devastating news I could have heard, and I am not ashamed to admit that tears of frustration did fall that evening. How could something I enjoyed so much be taken so quickly? The next day, my Sensei, George Rego, paid a visit. Right then and there I decided that my martial arts career was NOT over. (I would like to say at this time that during my hospital stay Rego Sensei was there almost daily, and he kept in close contact with my wife. This alleviated many of her fears, and generally made my family see some hope from all of this. The dojo itself was a great help, taking my 13 year old son to his Jukido class, and making sure he did not worry. I saw first hand that a dojo truly is a family.)

I was released from the hospital in mid July with an admonishment from the doctors to not train for 30 days, and if I were serious about continuing my training in Jukido, that I could NOT get hit, nor take a fall. I was placed on a high dosage of a blood thinner, which could cause internal bleeding. I returned to class August 3rd, (however I missed the International Seminar.) Sensei made sure that everyone of my fellow Jukidoka knew my current limitations, and regularly reminded my training partners to take it easy. The hardest part was being in class and having to be treated as an invalid. Since ukemi is a big portion of Jukido, and I was unable to do it, I was not sure where my journey on the path was going to take me. I only knew that I had to stick it out, and see what happened. A wonderful thing occurred. First off, my dojo family all took turns working with me. Here I was, feeling bad that a tori was not getting a complete Jukido experience while working with me, while they were all concerned that I was able to get as much as I could out of each class! Secondly, it became a wonderful opportunity for me to work with the newer students, whom I had tended to avoid until they had been there awhile. How was I going to execute a perfect taiotoshi if the uke couldn’t fall right? Besides, so many newbies come and go, it is hard to keep track of them all! Then I remembered my first few weeks, and my fears. The higher belts had all seemed so far away, and all so gifted. Before my condition, I had always looked ahead, at where I was going. I looked up to those ahead of me, to the higher kyus, to the dans. I had never taken the time to see where I had been, and who was looking up at me. I discovered that there cannot be a future without the past and the present. (Can anyone say Kokondo?) The path has a forward and a behind, and by looking only ahead I was missing a very large portion of it. I learned that to keep something, you have to pass it on. And I learned it from a white belt!

It is now the beginning of November. My convalescence is over, and I am back to training at 100%. There are still bad habits to break, (I need to get lower on ogoshi, and pull more on ippon seoinage) and many, many new things to learn. However, when Sensei today says “grab a partner” I now look to whoever is closest, no matter what their rank. Sometimes just a quiet “slap harder” from a higher belt is all the encouragement a new person needs to keep coming to class. I realize that I am not a Sensei, nor an assistant instructor. I am just a 41 (almost 42!) year-old guy who is journeying along the path, and enjoying it immensely. However, I have learned that all of us share in the responsibility of keeping the art alive, and one way we can do this is by showing the lower kyus the path ahead.