Pouring perspiration swimming down my neck, like the rain in a typical Seattle night. Singular weighted drips of hard work, crashing down on the light-teal cushioning floor mats. Proudly smearing it away cleanly with my already soaked t-shirt tucked in my gi. I glance at my belt through the parallel image of my ego embedded in the studio mirrors. I grace my fingers across my velvety rigid 2nd degree sable colored black belt. My left hand strokes the left side, feeling the light gold korean letters reading; Tang Soo Do. My right hand corresponding with the left, reading; “Ben Coralic.” Both hands slip off the tip, finishing with two bolded, and light gold horizontal stripes. The belt compliments my 7 years of experience. My other half, its courage
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Kids my age were operating their legs and bodies in such an abstract way... I was in utter disbelief. The rationale of signing up corresponded with the severe bullying I was receiving. Getting pummeled by sinful elementary boys, because of my chubbiness and helplessness. Glaring at these flashy kicks was causing me anxiety. Immediate self-doubt growing inside me, considering the ball shaped little boy I was, I never imagined I could do any of that. Meeting my head Sensei was iconic in my life. My Sensei introduced himself to me, and looked down upon me with such potentiality and spotting hidden ambition inside of me. Character oblivious to see I possessed, he foreshadowed. Engaging in the lesson of the basic kicks grew into a precious memory, kicking at knee-level due to severe incoordination, and obsolete athleticism composed a disadvantage. Sensei taught me by guiding my leg onto the bright red practice bag, holding on his shoulder as he corrected my foot posture. When I tried on my own and nailed that bag right in its hypothetical gut was astonishing. Much similarity to the first experience of riding a bike without training wheels. This daredevilish eccentric pride overcame me, leaping to reach Sensei’s hand and high-five him as his smirk of seriousness molded into an off guard chortle of happiness. I felt a energizing trait of empowerment. Slowly, but steadily I began to crawl out of my shell, as i …show more content…
Such seniority, I hold the license to instruct and open up my own dojo. Reflecting back on those first experiences, there isn’t any materialistic value that could challenge that sentimental value of knowledge I had gained. Seven years ago this young chubby, round ball that was poked at, transformed into the 6’1” experienced young man I am today. If I was presented the chance to do it again, there is no doubt in my mind i’d turn it down. My character had been iron pressed in my heart, and gave me a unique personality. I had finally found my niche in life, and this was it. I live to contradict my ego, by proving my worth every moment I step onto those cushions. My second-home, my dwelling. The enigma of this art has more to uncover, as these 7 years have yet to
Kids my age were operating their legs and bodies in such an abstract way... I was in utter disbelief. The rationale of signing up corresponded with the severe bullying I was receiving. Getting pummeled by sinful elementary boys, because of my chubbiness and helplessness. Glaring at these flashy kicks was causing me anxiety. Immediate self-doubt growing inside me, considering the ball shaped little boy I was, I never imagined I could do any of that. Meeting my head Sensei was iconic in my life. My Sensei introduced himself to me, and looked down upon me with such potentiality and spotting hidden ambition inside of me. Character oblivious to see I possessed, he foreshadowed. Engaging in the lesson of the basic kicks grew into a precious memory, kicking at knee-level due to severe incoordination, and obsolete athleticism composed a disadvantage. Sensei taught me by guiding my leg onto the bright red practice bag, holding on his shoulder as he corrected my foot posture. When I tried on my own and nailed that bag right in its hypothetical gut was astonishing. Much similarity to the first experience of riding a bike without training wheels. This daredevilish eccentric pride overcame me, leaping to reach Sensei’s hand and high-five him as his smirk of seriousness molded into an off guard chortle of happiness. I felt a energizing trait of empowerment. Slowly, but steadily I began to crawl out of my shell, as i …show more content…
Such seniority, I hold the license to instruct and open up my own dojo. Reflecting back on those first experiences, there isn’t any materialistic value that could challenge that sentimental value of knowledge I had gained. Seven years ago this young chubby, round ball that was poked at, transformed into the 6’1” experienced young man I am today. If I was presented the chance to do it again, there is no doubt in my mind i’d turn it down. My character had been iron pressed in my heart, and gave me a unique personality. I had finally found my niche in life, and this was it. I live to contradict my ego, by proving my worth every moment I step onto those cushions. My second-home, my dwelling. The enigma of this art has more to uncover, as these 7 years have yet to