Karate

I found karate later in life – at age 60 – which is not to say I hadn’t had opportunities earlier. I had, but training in what I saw as some obscure Japanese martial art never featured in my list of priorities. There was always rugby, cricket, girls, and work …

More fool me.

It’s always been Cushla’s and my desire for Finn to find his own path without any parent pressure to be little carbon copies of ‘the olds’. This has certainly been great for him, but it’s also been great for us as we’ve followed him around exploring the things he wanted to explore that we might never have thought of, many of which we’ve grown to love too.

As a preschooler Finn went to daycare – Kindercare – which enabled Cushla to go back to work. He loved it and, mostly, it loved him. One morning I went to wake him up to get him ready but, as usual, he was already awake. I asked him how he’d slept, and his reply changed my life forever. He said, ‘I don’t sleep. I’m a ninja. I only rest my eyes’.

He was three and a bit, and he was serious.

I told Cushla, and we agreed that we had no idea where he could have heard about ninjas, but Cushla determined that she would find him a club so he could follow this dream.

The first option she found was a local Taekwondo club, but our young ninja wasn’t keen on that largely because the adults trained with the little kids, and it felt overpowering. I agreed with the young man who was always the smallest kid in his class and who disappeared among the legs of the hairy six-footers as they raced around seemingly without purpose.

So, it was back to the drawing board.

Next, Cushla found the Auckland Seido Karate Club in Morningside where the attraction for her was a kid’s class called ‘The Brat Pack’. We trucked on up one Wednesday afternoon at 3.30pm and it was as though he’d found his forever home – kids his age doing kids karate stuff and he absolutely loved it. It also felt, to a biased ignoramus like me, that he was quite good at it, so karate became a staple in our weekly ‘let’s do everything known to man’ schedule – music, karate, hockey, lawn bowls, ballet, gymnastics, choir, kapa haka, rock climbing, you name it, Finn did it.

But karate came first.

At first it was a once a week treat with classes led by Senpai Tanya and Senpai Bruce, two 1^st kyus who had a great relationship with the young kids who turned up every week, and there were plenty of them. Finn loved it, flourished, and achieved. This was an early instance for us that this kid was bright, learned quickly, and had a unique understanding of his body in space. This was even more evident when he played hockey and started ballet.

He was so bloody good.

At everything.

After a fun grading with then Sensei Patrick Holden, dojo head, when Finn showed him everything he’d learned, and a few things he knew without being taught, we were told he was too advanced to keep training with the kids and would need, from then on, to train with the adults.

When Christmas rolled around which it did almost immediately, Finn was invited to take part in the Christmas class which was just for the adults and the older kids. It was a ‘dress in a Christmas theme’ class taken by Sensei Santa (Sei Shihan Clive Davidson) and, rather than a fun romp, it was full on technique class, Finn’s first. Talk about the deep end! He wore his fur fabric lion suit – he loved his suits – and it immediately became clear that this wasn’t a great choice. He lasted five minutes, there were tears, and he came off the tatami and sat with us … until he stopped melting and shed his suit. Then he was back into it, with a full head of steam, in his undies (very Christmassy, not!), and he outlasted everyone else.

Sensei Santa was impressed, but not altogether surprised. He’d been watching the young ninja for quite a while.

Then the classes stopped for the summer reconvening in mid-January with ‘kagami biraki’, or ’opening the mirror’, a traditional ceremony mostly performed nowadays at weddings, on sporting occasions, and at other significant events worthy of such a celebration.

In Seido Karate it is the first class of the year, a time for reflecting on the past, leaving challenges such as broken friendships behind, and looking to the future. It traditionally falls on 11 January, odd numbers being associated with good luck in Japan. The fourth Tokugawa shogun and my personal favourite, Tokugawa Ietsuna, was the first to hold a kagami mochi ceremony nearly 300 years ago when, on the eve of war, he gathered his daimyo in his castle to break open a sake cask. Later, upon achieving a noteworthy victory, a new tradition was born.

No cask of sake is consumed at the Seido event but you can buy an ice cream if you are so inclined once its over.

Around thirty of us gathered for the kagami biraki class and the excitement was loud, palpable, and electric. Sensei Patrick called out ‘line up’ and the room went deathly silent as the athletes lined up in grade order.

I knew that silence. It was like the moment in performance where you can taste the audience’s attention, where you think ‘gotcha’, now let’s rip this show open. It’s always an incredibly special moment, and it’s why we do the work. Cushla was equally excited by the silence. She leaned across to me and whispered, ‘I have to have some of this’.

I wasn’t surprised, as moment’s go, it was truly magical.

I was surprised however, when she said, ‘what about you?’

I knew exactly what she meant.

While I hadn’t seen it coming, I should have, because it always does, and I always respond in the same way, with excuses – as to why I couldn’t possibly kayak the Whanganui River for five days with thirty kids and their parents, why, at fifty-five and transgender, trying for a baby might not be the smartest idea, and why, having our precious taonga tested by a psychologist and labelled a spectrum kid for life, would be massively irresponsible of us as parents.

Excuses?

I’d already done the Whanganui trip in 1972, so I knew how great it was, which meant I was easily convinced to do that. We had an adult conversation about having a family and I’d already done that, twice, but I was won over easily by the moral fact that it would be unforgivable to deny Cushla the right to be a Mum and having a baby suddenly became the most exciting prospect ever assuming my bits still worked (they did, and Finn is a wedding night baby and my last act as a functioning male). With regard to labelling kids, as an educator I’ve always resisted this for what I consider to be obvious reasons, but Cushla made a great case, and I ended up supporting the testing and I’ve done so across the board with others ever since.

They’re among the best decisions I’ve ever been part of making in my life.

When it comes to starting karate, I did make excuses. I like to think of them as ‘reasons’, but the truth is they were just excuses. I’m sixty (well, I was then). I’m already too old. I’m ridiculously overweight. I’ve got a new knee. Did I say I was sixty? I’m transgender, whatever that might mean.

The problem is Cushla knows me too well and knows that I won’t ever say no to a new adventure, and so it played out.

‘OK’, I said, ‘I’ll do one class.’

That one class was the following Saturday.

Ninety minutes with Sei Shihan Clive. We did technique stuff, basics, the ‘Sensei Shuffle’ (don’t ask!), press ups, and it was awesome beyond words. The knee held up which was my main concern – along with all the other concerns (I’m a worry wort and an anxiety junkie), but I got through it. I could barely walk for a week, and everything hurt, but I had a mental clarity I’d never experienced before so it was off to the martial arts shop to buy a gi and a knee brace and to prepare for the following Saturday when we did it all again. The deal was that Finn would always be our senior even if we were all the same grade because he started first. A few weeks later we graded to 10^th kyu and so the karate journey started.

We trained in Seido Karate for a few years – Saturdays with Sei Shihan Clive (later with Sensei Mark), Sundays with Senpai Kirk, Tuesday was kata class with Sensei Fiona (my favourite class) and latterly with Jun Shihan Lou, Wednesday kids’ class for Finn, Thursday our grade class often with Jun Shihan Scott, and then, when the new week started, we did it all again.

We made it to 3^rd kyu, but our circumstance changed and we sadly moved on.

Finn was also able to take karate classes at school too which of course he did. He was always the kid who did everything. Cushla and I would rock on up to King’s School on a Tuesday and watch him train.

His first instructor was a bully that the kids called ‘Sensei Smelly’ because, well, he whiffed. He didn’t last long, and Sensei Adrian took over.

The style was different – the Okinawan karate tradition of Gōjū-ryū founded by Chojun Miyagi Sensei and formally named in 1929.

On the other hand, the Seido tradition evolved from Kyokushinkai, a mainland Japan style begun by Soke Masutatsu Oyama in 1956 from which Seido, founded by Kaicho Tadashi Nakamura in 1976, was a breakaway style.

After a year and a bit, Sensei Adrian moved on, and his place was taken by Sensei Dennis May who ran a big dojo at Westwave in Henderson. Finn loved Sensei May’s classes, and we loved watching them. After a few months, Finn was invited to participate in a weekend gasshuku (camp) and Cushla and I were invited too – ‘bring your gi and join in if you want to.’

Of course, we wanted to and that was the start of our real karate journey.

Eventually Finn had to decide which style he wanted to train in – largely because there are only seven days in the week – and he chose Gōjū-ryū. He’s never said why, but I suspect it was the special bond that he’d built with Sensei May

Karate has, for almost twenty years, played a really important role in my life, and I am grateful that I am still able to turn up to the dojo and be reasonably welcome, despite the fact that the body doesn’t deliver much anymore. I’m grateful to my fellow practitioners and in particular to Hanshi Dennis May MNZM, my mentor and my friend.

Karate led me to Buddhism, and, whilst I am a very poor Buddhist, I do try to live by the principles and the teachings which match well with the tenets of Budo and of the Code of the Samurai. I determine my behaviour and my actions towards others as best I can in line with the doctrine of Bushido, ‘the way of the warrior’, whose central values are honour, and freedom from the fear of death. There are eight bushido principles: righteousness (striving to do the right thing), courage (bravery), compassion (using power responsibly), respect (knowing when and how to use power wisely), truthfulness (being honest), honour (upholding personal and family honour), loyalty (being loyal to one’s sensei and family), and self-control (controlling one’s emotions and desires).

I’m not always successful in holding up my end of the budo bargain but I do try my best.

I wish I could’ve discovered karate earlier in my life but, like my gender identity, I’m glad I did find it when I did because so many people go through life and never find anything approaching a guiding star.

Karate is mine.