I’ll never know my legacy, by definition. I won’t define my legacy, either. Those I’ve been able to make a difference for in life shall define my legacy for me. That’s just the human design. That’s the gift of our own mortality. I hope that others might remember me kindly. Then again, I’ll never know.
Honestly, I don’t want to be missed when I’m gone. I hope that whatever part of me, whatever I been privileged to gift others is useful for them in their time of need.
Although my late Mom and the late Mizukami Sensei are no longer here on Planet Earth, they still stand beside me. They live inside me. I’m part of their living legacies. When I fear inside, I hear my Mom, “Slow down, Jonny.” I remember to calm my soul, that things have a way of working out. When I think that I’m not good enough, I hear Mizukami Sensei, “You’re a better teacher than me.” In Aikido, Sensei said,” Wait it out. Enter the attack. Take a glancing blow if you have to. You’re not always going to get away scot-free. It’s one time.” That could be the 250-pound man or life striking at me. I take a glancing blow for what’s meaningful to me.
The late Mizukami Sensei taught Ishibashi Sensei and me. Now, Ishibashi Sensei is my Sensei. Sensei said, “The purpose of Aikido is to release your fear.” “The safest place to be is under the attack, in the danger.” The 250-pound man punches to my face. I wait it out. I enter the attack and die with honor. I invite the attack. Don’t oppose the attack.
In the center the attack, in the danger, I apply the Aikido technique to myself, not to the attacker. O-Sensei Morihei Ueshiba said, “True victory is victory over oneself.” It’s only me against me. I’m my GOAT (Greatest of All-Time) opponent.
I apply nikkyo (wristlock) to myself and match the attack with yoko-iriminage (strike to the side of the head) to the attack. I choose to let the attacker pass or end the attack. The attacker chooses to take the fall or stand down from their attack. I could win or lose. The attacker could win or lose. We both choose. What happens, happens.
I enter the attack, enter what I fear. I don’t defend. Don’t shy away from what I fear. I let go my fear inside that I’m not good enough, my fear of Dad when I was a little boy. That fear inside may never completely disappear. Still, every time I enter what I fear in the Dojo and in life, I let go more of my fear inside me. I free me. I end my suffering. Just train.
I work with therapist Lance Miller to heal my childhood trauma and depression. I enter my fear of never being good enough for Dad as 8-year-old Jon. As bad as I had it from Dad, he had it far worse from his Dad. The sad legacy of abusive fathers. Dad did to me what his Dad had done to him. He didn’t know any better. I forgave Dad for not knowing how to be a father or husband and for being imperfectly human. I forgive myself for not being strong enough to stand up to Dad and protect Mom. I forgive myself for being imperfectly human, too. I love myself for whom I am and forgive myself for who I’m not.
Life is Yin and Yang, in lightness and darkness, in good and bad. I try to find my balance. I try to be quiet inside me. I don’t know what goes on inside some else. Still, I can have compassion for what it’s like to be them, for what they may have suffered. I do have a say in what goes on inside me. I work on myself, not on others. That’s all I can do. That’s all that we can do.
In working on myself, I create the possibility for others to work on themselves and invent their greater-than versions. And the world is better for that. There is always the possibility of good in the world. That’s what I believe.
I try to make a difference for others and leave the world a better place than when I came into it. I give away all that I’ve gotten in life to others. Maybe, they can take, discard, or refine that into something useful for themselves. I’ve been blessed by all those in my life with the gifts of themselves. In the end, I want to be spent. I want to be an empty vessel.
Others shall define my legacy when I’m gone. I’m good with that. Perhaps, they might say that I was not all about me, for the most part. That I was about them. That I had love in my heart for them and myself. That would be nice. Amen.
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Photo by Tim Roosjen on Unsplash
