Holding a Sweaty Gi

A few weeks ago, I started taking karate classes again. My knuckles are bleeding, my knees are squeaking and I contemplate standing up after sitting down. Ahh...it's good to be back.

I've been inconsistent with karate since I stopped training in Kyukoshin two years ago. I trained with friends, studied Oyama karate and kickboxing for awhile but it was like going to the gym; sweating without passion.

I yearned for discipline. My friend and I signed up at a Kyukoshin school near grand central. Between work, school and karate, I'm physically and emotionally exhausted but my life feels balanced. 

When I earned my black belt three years ago, it didn't feel right. When I came home after being an uchi deshi, it still didn't feel right. Wearing a white belt again makes me feel like I've been born again. this time without the fear of learning. I feel like I've been reincarnated. My white belt is simple, thin and easy to fold. On the right side, my name is written in Japanese with a black sharpie marker. Unlike my black belt, it is perfect. I'm in love.

When I come home and pull my gi out of the bag, the smell of salt is overwhelming. My gi is completely wet but it does not drip. It feels drained. I air it out on a hanger in the middle of the living room. Until the next class, I pass by it like a work of art. My mother gets upset trying to find new places to hang it when guests come over. Eh...I don't have any shame showcasing my pure passion.