I stood in the checkout line at Savon Drugs. A teenager with Down Syndrome accidentally stepped in front of me. He stood in line with his parents. He timidly looked at me. He said, “I’m sorry.” I smiled, “You’re good.”
Leaving the store, the teen backed into me. He wasn’t paying attention. He said, “I’m sorry.” I tapped him on the shoulder. I smiled, “You take care.” He looked off the side and said, “Take care.”
You should not have to apologize for being yourself. You don’t have to apologize for doing your best. That boy was doing his best. He was just being himself. I wanted to let him know that “It’s okay to be you.” I gave back the kindness, I desperately wanted when I was a boy. Maybe, he felt better about himself at least for that day. That’s the least I could do.
Growing up at home, I hated on myself. I wasn’t the son that Dad wanted. I was his greatest disappointment in life. Whatever I did or didn’t do only made Dad so angry at me. I could never get it right for Dad. I hated on myself: the way I looked, the way I sounded, the way I acted. I hated everything about me.
Consequently, I spent much of my adult life trying to prove that I was good enough. Trying to prove that I was worthy of love. I apologized for being me for much of my life.
Over 30 years ago, I began Aikido training with the late Mizukami Sensei. Sensei said, “Just train. It’s not like you have to get somewhere.” He generated the space to be me. I had the space to succeed, fail, and grow from both. For the first time in my life, I was free to invent the greater than version of myself. I was free to be me. I didn’t have to apologize for being me.
Mizukami Sensei was a father to me. He taught me what it is to be a good man. In Aikido, Sensei said, “Wait it out. Enter the attack and take a glancing blow if you have to. You’re not always going to get away scot-free. It’s one time.” Whether the bigger stronger man or life attacked full force, I take a glancing blow for what’s meaningful to me. I have honor. I stand my ground. I can be my authentic self.
Mizukami Sensei taught both Ishibashi Sensei and me until he passed away several years ago. Now, Ishibashi Sensei is my Sensei. Sensei said, “Get under the attack, in the danger. That’s the safest place to be.” He said, “The purpose of Aikido is to release your fear.”
The 250-pound man punches to my face. I wait it out. I enter the attack and die with honor. I match his attack in my attack. If I defend, I can be defeated. I apply nikkyo (wristlock) to myself and match his attack with yoko-iriminage (strike to the side of the head) to the attacker. I choose to let the attacker pass or end the attack. The attacker chooses to take the fall or get hit in the face. I can give kindness. The attacker can accept my kindness. We both choose.
I enter the attack, enter the danger, and let go my fear inside that I’m not good enough. Although my fear inside never completely disappears, I let go more of my fear inside. I free myself. I don’t apologize for being me.
I have nothing to do with what goes on inside someone else. I have a say in what goes on inside me. I love myself for who I am and forgive myself for who I’m not. I have compassion for others and what it’s like to be them. I have compassion for those just being themselves and doing the best that they can. Because I try to do the same.
There can never be enough kindness in the world. So, be kind, even when we don’t want to be. According to the Greek proverb: Kindness begets kindness. The world is a far better place for that. We are better, too. Amen.
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Photo by George Pagan III on Unsplash
