Personal Narrative Analysis

When I was five, my father asked me if I would like to learn martial arts. I was enticed by the “arts”, and agreed to what I thought was some form of painting. Although this was dispelled in my first lesson, I found a quiet sense of purpose in the rituals of the classes. My first year consisted of little more than striking the air in front of me, but I eventually learned a myriad of forms, drilled into my head by constant practice. The discipline of each form fascinated me, and I quietly submitted my entirety to perfecting every movement and breath.
After seven years of lessons, my instructors introduced me to fighting. From the beginning few seconds of my first match, I was hooked on the concentration needed to throw my will against his, and the discipline needed to not just absorb but embrace the pain of being struck. Sparring became my Nietzschean ritual, my act of …show more content…
My instructor brought out two men, Seth and Tom, armed with clubs and instructed to attack me. Tom was a man of average build, but Seth frightened me – I am by no measure small, but Seth towered over me. He attacked me again and again, and my defense was inconsequential. I thought my task was to outfight him, and I was failing. Against Seth’s mass my strength was nothing, and with his immense power he broke through my defenses, delivering blow after painful blow. Finally Seth mercifully stepped back, and Tom started to swing. Humiliated and infuriated by my defeat and freed from an unbeatable opponent, I exploded against Tom. With a cry, I wrenched the club from him and threw myself at him, knocking him down and landing a few blows. Thinking I’d won, I was surprised by the yanking hand of my teacher and the cold stare I received. It dawned on me that victory was not the point. My teacher had never expected that I could stand up to a 6’10” giant. What was being tested was my discipline under pressure, and in exploding I had failed. My loss of control cost my