I’ve trained with Ishibashi Sensei for about 35 years. He’s my Sensei, my Big Brother. The late Mizukami Sensei taught both of us. Who we are, the men we are is because of Mizukami Sensei. We have nothing but profound mad love and respect for Sensei.
When I was training for Shodan (1st degree black belt), I suffered trying to get it right, trying to do what Mizukami Sensei instructed. After an especially tough Aikido practice, where I couldn’t get anything right, Ishibashi Sensei said, “It’s your time to get yelled at.” I got it. After all, Ishibashi Sensei would know. He had gone through what I was going through. It was time to give up looking good and trying to be perfect. Just listen to Sensei. Let it go. Do the best that I could. It was my time to get yelled at. It was my time to rise up.
Years later, I worked my therapist Lance Miller to heal my childhood trauma and depression, and my fear of never being good enough for Dad. I got that when Mizukami Sensei yelled at me, he reminded me of Dad, of my fear from the past. But this was the present, not the past. Sensei was not Dad. Dad was Dad. Sensei was Sensei. Not the same.
Still, I got the difference even back then. Dad yelled at me, because he thought that I was useless, that I was no good. He yelled at me, because he was afraid inside, too. Sensei yelled at me, because he knew that I could do better, that I could be greater. That was the profound difference. Nothing was personal.
I stopped being a blockhead and listened to Mizukami Sensei. I did what he instructed. Sensei believed in me. Something Dad never did. It was just my time to get yelled at. It was my time to let go my fear inside that I’m not good enough. It was my time to be as great as I could be.
I passed my Shodan test. Now, I’m Godan (5th degree black belt), because of the late Mizukami Sensei and Ishibashi Sensei’s inspiration and belief in me. I believe in myself, because of them, too. Who I am is, because of them. They always have my mad love and respect.
My manager talked loud with me, when I failed to produce what he expected. I got it. I messed up. It was my time to get yelled at. I followed his directions. I put in the necessary corrections. I moved forward.
After our conversation, I worked with my reliable work partner. We got the required information from the right people and resolved our open actions and issues. I set up working group meetings moving forward so that this would not happen again. At least in theory. I’ll see. I just listened. I got it. I put my head down and did the work. I did my best. That’s all that I can do. That’s all that we can do. Nothing’s personal.
The loud voice in head that said, “I’m not good enough” was Dad’s voice from the past. That had nothing to do with the present. I did what I needed to do and gave up being right that I’m not good enough. Simple. Not always easy. Just train.
I loved someone. I said, “I love you.” She loved me, but was not in love with me. What I feared inside that I’m not good enough was truth. I was not meaningful in the present. That had nothing to do with not being good enough for Dad when I was 8 years old. I let go my fear inside me. Everything quiet inside. I have nothing to do with 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.
When I get yelled at or dare and fail bravely, I look at source of my fear inside. When the fear is from the past, instead of listening to the voice in my head, “I’m no good”, I listen inside my heart, “I can do this.” The past is the past. I’m present. When my fear occurs in the present, is in my face, I enter what I fear and die with honor. I let go my fear inside. I work on myself, not on others. That’s all I can do. I do my best. Everything quiet inside me. I keep moving forward. My heart is true. Magokoro. It’s my time.
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Photo by Andrik Langfield on Unsplash
