Michelle Ray’s Blog

I told myself I wasn’t going to get emotional about this.  And I’ve done pretty well until this morning.   I think I’m going to blame the emotionalism on Kira.  She planted the seed last night when she stopped by the school.  I think the comment was along the lines of “you are going to be crying tomorrow night when this is over”.

I denied it of course.  I might tear up when awarding rank to my students, but not about my own test.  I have been in work mode these last few weeks, struggling to fit in personal obligations, staff changes at the school and final training for my test today.  Yes, I have been stressed.  Waking at 2:30am and getting on the computer to work out a new schedule or jot down curriculum ideas.  Spending hours each day training with Master Dring or on my own, trying to get more repetitions in.  I still don’t know what board breaks I’ll be doing.  My self defense demo was put together in an hour on Tuesday.  Many many thanks to Tom Genz, Brady Speers and Surya Cheek for their patience and good humor while I figured out what to do.  I sincerely hope they remember to wear a cup.  

I finished the newspaper this morning and allowed myself to think about this evening.  Not the technical parts which I have been obsessing over (moves to the forms, self defense, shadow boxing, board breaks, sparring, conditioning) but the meaning of this test for me.

 I found myself drinking coffee on the couch, tears streaming down my face. Thinking about the people that have been with me for the journey. 

My first Taekwondo class in 1976.  Carla Griffey was in the class.  Now Carla Hazelwood, she is still part of my life and does all of the beautiful calligraphy on our black belt certificates.   Jim Bottin owned the school and talked me into trying a class.  He is my landlord and is a great resource of knowledge.   Rick Balkin was in the kids classes I used to teach. He will test for Master early next year and is both instructor and friend to me.

Jim Robinson will sit on my judge’s panel tonight. He was my first instructor and tied my black belt on me in 1978.  He inspired me then to push myself, to be tough, to not be satisfied with anything other than my personal best.  He set the example.  I never imagined that he would still be a part of my life 33 years later. 

John and Allison Drew will be driving in from Dallas to be on the panel.  Allison will spar with me, as we did when we tested for 4^th Dan.   John is now Master Drew;  Allison received her 5^th Dan a couple of months ago.  Fellow school owners, but more importantly, friends that I know I can confide in and depend on.

Marcus Roby will be there.  I didn’t know him when he was on staff at Little Rock Martial Arts, but met him shortly after I started training there.    He has taught seminars at my school, driven from Texarkana to work out.  So many lunches and dinners, laughing and talking.  

Gerald Garbett.  The “General”.  A fixture at LRMA, he received his 5^th two months ago.   Friend.  Confidant.  How many classes, camps, seminars have we done together?  Thirteen years.

My little sister Tracey.  My closest friend.   Now a 4^th Dan.  There are no words. 

Master Danny Dring will be running the test.  My instructor and friend.   Week in and week out for six years he has put up with me.  One of the toughest men I know, he has an incredible depth of martial arts knowledge.   I’ve been honored to learn from him.   He has also set the example on physical conditioning, the man is crazy.   He was the second phone call when I found out I needed a hip replacement.  I insisted on the same brand of metal hip that he has.  He did all the research for me.  Unfortunately it didn’t make my kicks anything like his. 

I could write pages reminiscing about “the old days”.  Too many people to list.  But all of them in my head and heart. 

Charles.  Still my friend and supporter.  He cut the boards for my test tonight and even sanded the edges so the board holders could hold tighter.   He has always believed in me, pushed me to be better.  He supported my decision to buy the school, helped set me on the path of whom I am today. 

Joseph Jordan.   We were to test together.  Because of his back injuries  I’m doing this alone tonight.  But he will be there.   He has been my friend, my partner.  What an extraordinary young man he is. 

My staff.  Jackson and Kailum are the best. 

Students and parents.   The reason I do what I do.  When I see the sense of accomplishment and pride on the face of a student, when a parent sends me a note telling me I have changed their child’s life, I know that I am doing what I am meant to do. 

My “Peeps”.    Kira, Tracey, Patti, Leslie, Sheri, Jill, Heidi, Jessica.  My go to group of friends for lunch, dinner, “girl’s night out”, talks on the phone or dancing in the living room.   All friends because of martial arts. 

Tom Callos and The Ultimate Black Belt Test turned my world upside down. My UBBT team members set the standard.  Tom continues to challenge me to think outside the box. Sometimes I fall flat on my face.  But I know that this year of UBBT has made me a better person and a better martial artist.

Steve.  My rock.   He knows when to push me, and knows when to back off.   He is the calm in the storm. 

As I sit here, thinking about this test, it’s like a huge mosaic of faces, names, experiences.   Some are dusty and from the past, others new and shiny.  Martial arts have been part of my life for thirty three years.  I could never have imagined how my life would be changed when I took that first class.  So I’m going to head to the school, walk through the patterns a few more times.  But I know the test really isn’t tonight.  The test has been for the last thirty three years.  And it will continue on Monday. 

December , 2014 I’ll test for 6^th Dan

I have not been getting journal entries posted. I’ve started several (no points for that though) but haven’t finished them. 

So instead of trying to write something really deep and meaningful, I’m just going to jot down a couple of thoughts.

Life gets in the way all of the time… Schedules, relationships, health, finances, motivation…all of these change.  I’ve sat in my office and listened, and cried, with my students, parent s of students, or friends during the last year while they have gone through the turmoil of change. 

It’s life.  I’ve gone through some pretty difficult times myself.  All of the above in fact, all in the last year.  But I know my experiences have made me wiser, and hopefully, more of a resource for those that need me.  

Time Management…..

Where does the time go?  And yes, being a fine example of Adult ADHD does not help the situation at all.  I’ve got as many hours in the day as everyone else.  I also realize that all those things undone stress me out and make me even less productive.  My priority, my goal, for the next 60 days is to develop that skill, both for myself and for my staff.  I’ve got my Franklin Covey Day Planner; it’s just that I keep leaving it wherever I am not.

Eating.  Food.  Weight.

How many times have I lain awake, beating myself up for what I ate that day?  Most of my life my weight has fluctuated with my emotions and injuries.  Always excuses.

This year of the UBBT that changed.  I’ve had injuries.  I’ve kept training.  I’ve had more emotional stress in the two years than I ever thought possible.  I’ve kept to good eating habits.  My weight continues to drop, I’m healthy and strong. 

This is the 500 pound gorilla that has been in the room with me forever.  It’s the 500 pound gorilla that so many of my students and friends struggle with.  I’ll be writing more on that.

Exercise Discipline…

I’m consistently working out five days a week, either when I teach class, or going to Master Drings or Master Edwards .  I’m climbing Pinnacle and/or running the base trail once a week when possible (when it’s not raining).   I’m in better shape than I have been for years.  I’m still trying to find a good balance between pushing myself and killing myself though.  I do like a challenge….

I’m A Student…

How can I be a teacher if I am not a student?  I’m reminded every time I train with my instructors how important it is to have the humility to empty my cup of knowledge.  It’s so very easy to stay in my safety box of knowledge and only do the things that I do well.  Getting out on the mats and looking and feeling like a fool is difficult.  I’m not going to say I enjoy it, but I know it is necessary.   And, if I am not willing to try and fail (also known as learning) how can I expect my students to?

Friends and love are important…

I am so very blessed to have friends that love me.  More on that later also, because the older I get the more I realize how important those friendships are.  

In January I climbed Pinnacle Mountain for the first time.  I wrote a blog about it.  I was so darn scared, hanging on to those little skinny trees for dear life while Joe Jordan hopped and skipped up and down the mountain. 

So of course I had to climb some more.  I wasn’t going to let my fear of that mountain defeat me. 

I’m in better shape now than I was in January, and that certainly helps.  The six hour hike in Hilo with Tom, Nevin, Joe and Michael gave me a lot more confidence about hiking and climbing.  I’ve even graduated to the  East Summit side of Pinnacle, also known as the “hard side”.  I’ve taken several of my friends up Pinnacle for the first time, memorable trips with Kira, Melissa and Sana.  But every single time I go up and down that mountain I’m scared.  Not as much, and not as often, but I am scared.

Sunday I went up with my friend Steve.  

Steve has done a lot of hiking and climbing, and is an incredible natural athlete.  He is also very analytical and not shy about voicing his opinions to me.   So it made for an interesting climb for me. 

One of the things I like about the East Summit is that it is steep enough that most people with common sense would use hands and feet to climb.  I actually prefer it because I have four points of contact between me and the mountain, instead of trying to balance on one or two of my feet while climbing.  Steve and I did not take the same route up the mountain.  He looked for the areas where he could stay up right and walk/jump  from rock to rock.  I just barreled ahead and climbed and crawled.  We both got there.   One of us was much more graceful than the other, but I’m not naming names.

At one point he stopped me and I got a bit of a lecture.  He wanted to know why I was climbing the hard way.  He said “you have the strength, you have the balance, you have all the tools.  You just don’t trust yourself”.   And then he did a circle, jumping from rock to rock, some of which were extremely narrow.  He looked like a human mountain goat and I was incredibly envious.  Then he told me, “you  just have to work on the basics”.  So I followed him.  By now we were at the top of the mountain, so it was like walking across a level field of rocks.   He deliberately stepped on the narrow and scary rocks, by passing the nice big flat ones that I would have chosen.  It was kind of like learning to walk on a balance beam that is lying on the ground.  No real danger of falling any distance, but it let me develop the skill of balancing. 

So why am I talking about all of this? 

How many times do I crawl and climb and take the difficult route because I haven’t mastered the basics.  How many times do I wobble because  I don’t trust myself?  I have the tools and the skills, but for some reason I’m not willing to go for it.  Fear of falling.   Fear of failure. 

Sometimes I can figure it out for myself.  I can step back, see the problem, and come up with a solution.  But other times…wow.  I’m just climbing, and slipping and sliding, so busy trying to get to the top without killing myself that I don’t take the time to evaluate what I’m doing and improve on it. 

Steve calmly gave me some pointers.  And you know what?  I was willing to listen to him because he obviously knew what he was talking about.  I’m not willing to try to learn from someone just because they say they have the knowledge.   He literally “walked the talk” on the top of that mountain.  He got my attention. 

At one point he had me balancing on a big rock.  My heart was racing, I was full out scared and wobbly.  He kept telling me I could do it, that I had the skills and the balance.  But I wasn’t moving.  Fear had me paralyzed.  Then he held out his hand and it made all the difference in the world.  That point of contact gave me the confidence to take those steps.  Next time I climb I’ll find that same rock and try it again. 

We all have the skills within us for the climb.  But we have to work on the basics.  And sometimes we need someone we respect to show us the way and lend a hand.

Thanks Steve.

And thanks to Tom Callos, Danny Dring,  and Randy Edwards for being people I can respect and learn from.  As I get closer to the date of my 5th Dan test I realize how much work I need to do on my basics.  But I’ve got excellent teachers that I respect.  What more could I ask for?

Tom and I were walking through Hilo this morning, after our cup of coffee at his favorite coffee shop. He asked me what I had learned in the two days that I have been here.  For those of you that know Tom, you know that one of his gifts is pulling information and thoughts from you.  It would have been very easy for him to tell me what I was experiencing.  But that is not the kind of teacher he is.

So here, maybe more for me than for those who might read this are some thoughts and impressions from my first two days in Hawaii.

To my knowledge, I haven’t seen a single tourist.   By walking to and through town, I smell the flowers; experience the rain on my skin and in my hair.  This is not the place for blow dryers and makeup.  Light rain, and then few minutes later the sun is out.  We walk over bridges and stop to see the water coursing over the rocks.  We have spotted a few turtles swimming in the calm water at the foot of the falls.  Thick jungle right in the middle of town.

I’ve walked on lava. I’ve seen the plume of smoke and flare of fire from a volcano that has killed, and will surely kill and destroy again.  The sun was setting, clouds in the sky tinted with yellow, orange, and purple.  Black lava as far as I could see, I wondered if this is what the surface of the moon looks  like, hard, barren, surrealist shapes silhouetted against the sky.

When I turned around, and we walked back towards the road, bright green, red and gold lights were flickering between the palm trees.  The lights were strung around top of a simple bar, with no walls and no doors.  Nine bar stools, a few were occupied by men enjoying the Monday evening.  We could hear music close by.   Tom asked if it was a private party?  We were told that it was, but we were welcome.

We sat a picnic bench in front of a garage at the end of a road, the volcano within site.  Dogs and children played around us.  A sound system was set up, and we listened to native music performed by incredibly talented natives.  The audience?  Uncle Ralph, the patriarch of the clan.  He sat in a golf cart, his skin almost as dark and craggy as the lava field a few yards away.  A middle aged woman, several teen age boys and girls.  Perhaps eight little girls and boys under the age of 10 were scattered in the yard. 

Gabriel arrived a few minutes after we did, the only other Caucasian in the group.  Tom of course immediately asked for his name and engaged him in conversation.  Gabriel was originally from St. Louis, had bounced around, a few years here, a few years there.  He looked at a map a few years ago, decided he wanted to live in Hawaii, and here he was.  He works in a grocery store a mile up the road. 

When we ate, the teenagers were next to us.  They laughed and chatted, obviously happy to be there.  I couldn’t help but wonder what some of the teenagers would have been doing on a Monday evening in Little Rock.  Plugged in by ear buds to music on iPods, on the computer, watching TV, playing video games?   Would they have been happy to be with family, listening to folk music and just talking?

The open walled garage was painted white, and decorated with street signs and prints of Jesus.  The smell of food wafted on the breeze, the Christmas lights of the bar were within site.  Music.  Dirt under my feet.   Another world.

Earlier, I had walked through a jungle, orchids brushing against my hair as we followed a narrow path.  We crawled through a hole into a cone shaped lava cave.   I’m not kidding, a lava cave.  A natural steam room in the middle of the jungle.   We sat on wood planks fashioned into benches on the lava rocks.  I look up through a small hole at the top of the hot lava walls and could see the blue sky.  Two days before I was in Little Rock, Arkansas.  It is almost more than I can comprehend

We went to a park, with coves and lagoons for swimming.  You’ve heard that expression “sink or swim”?   Tom handed me a snorkel mask and jumped into the water.  It took me a little more time because, yet again, I was walking on lava rocks.  I was being very very careful as I walked.  Once in the the water I put the mask on.  Or I thought I did.

Ummm….about snorkeling.   My last experience was very brief, and in Cancun about 15 years ago.  Needless to say I didn’t know what I was doing.  It is a pretty simple concept, obviously, but I still managed to screw it up. 

So picture this.  I’m in the water, Tom is already swimming around saying “look at that one it’s huge!” and I’m still trying to get the mask on.  I ducked my head under water and just about drowned.  Thankfully I could still stand up.  Tom pointed out that the mask was supposed to go over my nose.  Oh. 

Got the mask on correctly, and again put my head under water.  Right there in front of me was a humongous turtle.  Did you know you can hyperventilate underwater with a face mask and snorkel?  Did you know it is not fun?

All I could think about when I saw the turtle a foot away from me was, does it have teeth? Does it bite?

It drifted away.  Tom was like a little kid, pointing out more turtles, each bigger than the previous one, or at least that is what he said.  I was still adjusting to the snorkeling thing, but I did manage to swim around and follow a couple of the turtles. 

Coffee this morning.  While Tom was on the phone I talked to Jas.  Strikingly beautiful blue eyes with dark skin and hair, and a smile that light up the shop when we walk in.  She is 26 and works two jobs.  She lives a very simple life, as many in Hilo seem to do.   In her free time she surfs.  She named all of the beaches, her face and voice animated.  Work and surfing.  I thought about her counterparts in Little Rock.  Work and …what?  Kids?  Clubs?  What kind of car to buy?   How do I step up the corporate ladder?

Tom and I talked on the way back.  We talked about Jas.  There is a part of me that admires those that find joy in simple, that find joy in nature and just being.   I’m drawn to the concept of escape from the world as I know it. I’m drawing peace and strength from the air and water and soil of this place. 

But I also know that I would become bored and restless.  I have work to do.  I’m still trying to process what that work is, but I know that I want to leave some type of footprint on this planet when I’m gone.  Tom Callos is leaving not just one footprint, but many.   My UBBT team members are doing life changing work.  Brian, Rori, Gary, Joe, Dan, John, the list goes on and on. 

Lately I’ve become very aware of the passage of time.  My body may be edging towards the 52 year mark, but I don’t feel old.  Well, at least not very often.   But I am becoming more cognizant of the fact that I am very probably past my half way mark of time on this planet.  Am I being egotistical to think that I might actually be able to teach, inspire and motivate in some small way?  Am I going to follow a comfortable routine, safe and dependable?  Am I going to take a few leaps, knowing I could soar, or fall flat on my face?

 I want to leave a footprint when I’m gone.  It may have a couple of face plant impressions around it, but I want there to be a footprint to show that I have been here.

  (In my previous post, I described the quad injury and resulting muscle spasms that occurred right after I purchased Little Rock Taekwondo in 2000) 

Two years as a school owner, and I could not train.  I couldn’t teach.  I wasn’t sure I was a martial artist anymore.     I admit, right here, that I am a little competitive.  And it just killed me to see people that started after I did pass me up in rank.  Yes, I know that may be shallow, but it did. 

Also during those two years, some other things were going on that created a little stress.  My husband Charles had a heart attack,   five months later a five way by-pass.    We had another business from which I had semi-retired from when I bought Little Rock Taekwondo.   During Charles’ recovery, I was doing double duty.  A typical day began with me at the surety business at 5am, working through lunch.  Then off to the Taekwondo school from 3:30pm to 9:00 or 10:00pm.  Worry about Charles, about our family, and both businesses kept me on edge.  We experienced 9/11 which not only affected us all emotionally, but affected the martial arts school in a very negative way.   We closed our surety business, and Charles retired.  My former instructor and partner in the Taekwondo school left and moved to Dallas.   We adopted our daughter Keely during this time, and experienced all of the sleepless nights and stress of parents of a newborn. 

 And the leg injury was always there.  Twinges, pain, and spasms when I tried to push myself.  I gained weight.  I can remember the shame of sitting on the bleachers and watching camps, seminars, the US Team tryouts at my school.  I wasn’t participating, I was watching. 

For the first time in my life, I could not defeat an obstacle.  Believing in me didn’t get it.  Focus didn’t get it.  Physical strength, mental strength didn’t get it.  It is not easy for me to give up.  But I did.  Two years of hope and disappointment every time I tried to exercise finally defeated me. 

Then, I read an article about acupuncture.  And I thought, “why not”?  I made an appointment, and met Dr. Martin Eisele for the first time.  He wanted to know what was going on, not just physically, but emotionally.  It took at least an hour for me to fill him in on the soap opera of my life.  I started sessions that day.  Three weeks later, no pain in the quad.

Martin said that the pain and emotional stress that I experienced with and after the injury had all settled in my quadracepts.   The acupuncture sessions released the pain and stress from that area.

I don’t know how it worked, I just know it did.  I was able to start training again. 

I was thirty pounds overweight and woefully out of shape.  All of my staff out ranked me, although none of them had even been born when I received my 1^st Dan in 1978.  All my friends that I had trained with before the injury were ahead of me.  I was the owner of the school; all eyes were on me every time I stepped out on the floor.  It was time to start over again.

Tom Callos sent an email today, with a link to a video by Ira Glass.  I’m going to include the link, but I know most who read this won’t view the video.  Actually, that was kind of the point of Tom’s email, but that is a whole other story…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-hidvElQ0xE

Ira says a lot of important things about the creative process of making videos.  What struck me though, are the parallels between making a video and life.  About making a video and doing just about anything that is important.   One of the points Ira made is that many people stop making videos because their product doesn’t live up to their “taste”.   

Maybe, because I was taking a break from writing new copy for the website, this struck a chord.  Or maybe, it was because I’ve been trying to outline a new curriculum.  Or, because I’ve been struggling with making weekly journal entries.  Or because I….. (Insert just about anything I do here)

 I’ve always been an “outside the box” kind of person.  Artistic to a degree, but not particularly talented.  I like to read, and enjoy expressing myself through writing.  Sometimes the ideas and creativity flow, sometimes I feel like I’m hitting my head against a wall.

I’m reminded of one of those toys that just keeps pushing forward against a wall until the batteries run down.  If you turn it away from the obstacle, it will zoom off.  Until it hits the next obstacle.  Then it stays stationary with wheels spinning, batteries draining until empty.

I’ve got some deadlines I need to meet.  My wheels have been spinning a lot lately, my batteries are getting depleted. 

 I have to acknowledge that my efforts are not going to always match my vision.  That is ok.   But if I don’t continue the effort, I’m never going to get better. 

To be honest, it’s really easier to quit.  I could just be content to settle. To be content with the status quo.  The copy for the website is good enough.  My last journal entry was good enough.  The curriculum we have is good enough. 

 The work I am doing for the Ultimate Black Belt Test is good enough.  My training and physical conditioning are good enough.  My relationships are good enough.

Right now, my finished product doesn’t look anything like my vision. 

Of course, it’s easier to just quit. 

I can listen to the little guy that lives on my shoulder (he’s invisible you know but I think you probably have one too) that tells I’m too busy or too tired or not smart enough or not strong enough or not talented enough or just not good enough to do what I’ve set out to do. 

Or, I can dig deep.  I can look back at what I have done, see the good in it, and use that as a foundation for the next step.  I can listen to the gal that lives on the other shoulder (yep, she’s invisible too) that tells me that I can do it.  She reminds me that I am a black belt, a teacher, a leader, a mom, a friend,  a citizen of this planet and I have ability to do whatever I set my mind to.  Her voice is much softer than the guy that lives on my other shoulder and sometimes I have to really strain to hear her. 

I also have to recharge my batteries.  I do that when I sit on my deck and meditate while listening to the birds sing.  I do that when I read an email from a friend that tells me I have helped him  or her during some difficult times.  Tom Callos recharges my batteries with his emails and videos, as do my UBBT teammates with their journals and their work.  I need to spend more time recharging. 

Recharge.  Think.  Visualize.  Get to work.

This video of my life.  It is a work in progress and I’ve got the camera running every moment that I’m awake.  It can have real depth and meaning, perhaps even move and inspire, or it can be a lot of blank screen and white noise.

My choice.

In April of 2000 we were working on two on one sparring during the noon class.  I was the target, while two of my friends and fellow students were the attackers.  A low kick hit my knee from the side and within seconds on was lying on the mat with incredible pain in my knee.  Within a week I was recovering from surgery for a torn ACL.

The surgery really wasn’t that bad.  I was up and walking around, ditching the crutches within the first few days.  I started physical therapy immediately, and felt pretty good about my progress.

Then, while I was doing one of the PT exercises at the therapy center, I felt a strong sharp pain in my quadracepts.  A therapist was walking by, and I told him I thought I had torn my quad.  “Nah, you couldn’t have done that” he said.  So I did some more reps of the exercise and finished up my session.

The pain continued, but none of the therapists seemed concerned.  But a few days later, I had the first muscle spasm in my leg.  Wow that hurt.  And then there was another.  And another.  Until I was experiencing debilitating leg was spasms periodically during the day and the night.  The Doc told me that he wasn’t sure what the problem was, but that I could not have torn my quad.   He told me to lay off the exercises, and to do massage and stretching during my sessions instead.  I did.  The spasms continued.

By now, over two months had gone by, and I couldn’t walk, sit, or lay down without muscle spasms in my leg.  I went back to the Doc, and he told me he really didn’t know what to do for me, so he was going to have me try Muscular Dystrophy medicine.

As I left his office, I dropped the prescription in to the trash.

One of my student’s parents was an orthopedic surgeon at University of Arkansas Medical Science.  That evening at the school, I told him what was going on.  He called his office and got me an appointment to see him the next day.  Several tests later, the results were in.  I had indeed torn my quad.  But the tear was in an unusual place, the “mushy” muscle beside the tendon.  Essentially, my quad was unraveling, and we were dealing with a very rare injury.  First move was to put me in a full leg cast from the ankle to the groin to immobilize the leg.  In the month of July.  In Arkansas.  I was not a happy camper.  I slept in the recliner for the entire month, it was just too difficult to try to sleep in bed.  Driving my F-150 truck was a challenge, but I became pretty adept at braking with my left foot.  My right foot stayed by the gas pedal since it was impossible to move my right leg.

A month later, the leg cast came off.  Within a week the spasms were back.  I can’t begin to describe how discouraged I was.

Did I mention that I had just bought the school?  I had so much to do, so much to learn, and I was dealing with constant pain and frustration.  I had been working out at least an hour or two a day, and now it was everything I could do to walk from my car to the house.

My Doc didn’t want to do surgery, he would have to cut open the muscle, and the tear was in the part of the muscle that would not respond well to stitching.  Mushy like the part of the chicken breast next to the tendon was the  way he described it.  So the advice was…do nothing.  Don’t exercise, don’t stretch, try to let it heal.  I asked how long this was going to take, and he said he didn’t know.

It took two years.  No martial arts, no running, no biking.  No exercise at all.  Every time I would venture out on the mats to try to work out, the leg would start aching and hurting in the vulnerable area.  If I pushed it, the spasms started again.

The saga continues …next week.

My sister Tracey and I are very close.  Not in age, I am the oldest and she is the youngest of four.   But in temperament and interests, we are very similar. We are the best of friends.  She is my workout partner in martial arts, my confidant, my sounding board.  Everything a sister should be, really.  We even look alike.   I talk to her almost every day.  I know when she goes to the doctor, I know when she buys new shoes.  

But you know what?  She still surprises me.  

When I announced the What Is My Tree? Project, I could tell she was not excited about it.  As testing drew closer, I was gently reminding all of my students that they HAD to turn in the Phase I of their Tree Project before testing.  Two days before testing, she plopped down in the chair across from my desk and said “I want to talk to you about this Tree thing”.  The look on her face said it all. She was not happy.

She went on to describe everything she was already doing.  And to express her frustration that I was asking her to do more.

When she was done venting (in a very calm and professional way), I explained to her that she was done.  She had already done everything needed for the Tree project, all she had to do was write it up.  She was already being a leader with her actions, I just needed her to write it up so that others could be inspired by her.  

This is yet another case of the teacher learning from the student.  The following is the first What Is My Tree? Project report at Little Rock Martial Arts.  I’m very proud of my little sister.

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What’s My Tree Project

Tracey Campbell

As Ms. Ray knows, I was not thrilled to do this paper (project); I whined and complained for weeks.   I explained to her that for twelve years, before recycling was “cool” – I was already doing it.  She told me to put the reasons why on paper, so here it goes.

Several years ago, I began reading about the environment and the effect that the use of certain products is hurting the environment and destroying future resources for our younger generation.    The average American discards 4.6 pounds of garbage every day.  EVERY DAY!!!  The garbage goes to landfills and it is buried.  The garbage continues to grow and it effects our environment constantly.  Recycling reduces the amount of solid waste going into landfills, making each landfill last longer. 

After I read that, I began recycling, and made my husband recycle also.  Here are some statistics for you: 

• Production of recycled paper uses 80% less water and 65% less energy, and it produces 95 % less air pollution than virgin paper production.[1]

• When making cans, using recycled aluminum requires 96% less energy than manufacturing new aluminum form its virgin material, bauxite.  Four pounds of bauxite are saved for every pound of aluminum recycled.

• Recycling plastic bottles uses 76% less energy.

• Recycling paper uses 45% less energy.  It also saves trees and water; making a ton of paper from recycled stock saves up to 17 trees and uses 50% less water (7000 gallons).

• Recycling glass uses 21% less energy.

Recycling reduces air and water pollution because the recycling process reduces the amount of air pollution produced by power plants and the amount of water pollution produced by chemicals used in the manufacturing process.

When plastics are recycled, you can produce coats, industrial equipment, school equipment, garden furniture, boxes, spare parts on cars…you name it, it can probably be created with recycled products.   I just bought a pair of running socks made from recycled water bottles and Mountain Dew bottles!  Who would have thought about that?

There are a lot of things that I try to do for the environment, but I admit there are just as many I can do better.  I am terrible about buying bottled water; I have bought several recycled, reusable water bottles to take to the gym and TKD class instead.

I am one of those people you see in the store with the reusable, recycled shopping bags; I have those but I still put some things in regular plastic bags.  I do take the extra ones back to Wal-Mart so they can be recycled, but the best thing to do is not get them.

What do I do right?

• I pass around magazines when I get through reading them; I refuse to throw them away. 
• I take books that I have read to the nursing homes or give them to people who I know will enjoy them.
• I use dryer sheets to polish my furniture instead of throwing them out.
• We have cut down on our paper towel use; we still occasionally use them, but I have several hand towels now that are used more often.
• I always run the dishwasher and washing machine first thing in the morning; that is when the energy and water demand is lower.
• Every room in our house has energy efficient light bulbs.  It took some getting use to, but I don’t think we have a regular light bulb in the house. 
• You will never see a can, plastic bottle, or newspaper in my trashcan.  I recycle everything I possibly can.

So, these are the three levels for my project.  I will keep doing what I am doing for the environment and I will hopefully make a difference

I enjoy writing.  When I’m troubled about something, I’ll do a “dear diary” type letter to myself.  Many times the process of putting my thoughts on paper allows me to evaluate a situation and, if not come up with a solution, at least have the facts laid out in front of me to clarify my thoughts.

I’ve enjoyed the challenge of posting a weekly journal as part of my UB BT requirement.  I’ve found myself being much more aware of my surroundings, my interactions with others, even more aware of my thoughts because I knew I was going to have to find something to write about each week. 

I have not posted a journal in over a month (maybe more, I’m afraid to look).  I had good intentions, and have even started a few.    All I can say was that I just wasn’t in the mood.  I know Tom has said each journal entry does not have to be an inspiring masterpiece, but anything I would have posted in the last month would have been along the lines of “I’m writing this because I am supposed to, but I don’t have anything to say.”

I think I’ve been suffering from thought fatigue.    I just have not had the internal strength to take the seed of an idea and flesh it out. 

But what I have done is read the journal entries of my students and my fellow UBBT team members.  You guys have kept me inspired and motivated when I was out of motivational “gas”. 

For me, one of the greatest benefits of UBBT is being able to get inside the head and hearts of our fellow team members.  What’s cool is that you do not have to be a member of the UBBT to have access to this incredible resource.  When I’m feeling empty, I go to the UBBT journal site to get recharged. 

Try it.

A high school teacher committed suicide a few days ago.  He was a favorite teacher of one of my staff members.  Almost every freshman had a class with him and there are a lot of hurting and bewildered 14 and 15 year olds in our city today.  Sudden death, by suicide or accident, has a lasting effect. 

Take the high road.

Sixteen years ago, my mother had a “mild” heart attack.  Several days after the attack, she was scheduled for a routine angiogram.  I went by the hospital to see her that morning, but had a lunch appointment during the time of the actual procedure.  So I hugged her, told her I loved her, and went to my meeting.

The doctor was very honest with her.  Usually this occurrence was fatal.  Surgery was going to be very risky.  They were able to stabilize her, but she needed to see her family quickly, and then they needed to go in and see if they could repair the damage.  They waited for me to get there before taking her into surgery.

We told each other goodbye that day.  She didn’t expect to live; they couldn’t even give her odds because the surgery was so rare. 

As I sat in the waiting room with my family, I thought about a future without her.  I thought about the time I had had with her.  One of the things that comforted me was the knowledge that my mom knew I loved her.  We said those three words every time we talked on the phone or saw each other.  And I said it with my actions too.   I could sit in the waiting room and not feel guilt or regret about harsh words or hurtful actions. 

What I learned from that time was that I did not want to feel guilt or regret if someone died.  That may sound simplistic, but that has guided my life ever since.  I’m certainly not perfect, and sometimes I slip.  But if I say or do something that is hurtful it eats me up until I rectify it.

1. But when you are able to make a conscious decision to take the high road, you are the one that benefits the most.

Acts of Kindness are not for those on the receiving end.  They are for you. 

Forgiveness of wrongs and hurts is for your benefit.  It’s much easier to forgive than to live with guilt and regret for the rest of your life.

If someone is important to you, tell them.  Write a note.  Call them.  Hug them and tell say those three words.  I love you.

These last few months in the UBBT I’ve had the concept of self defense redefined for me by Tom Callos and my team members.  I get it.  I get it that eating right is self defense, as is taking care of the environment and controlling my anger and stress.  I get it that Acts of Kindness may be the most basic level of self defense.

Why not develop a new habit.  The habit of being aware of the people you interact with and their value to you.  And develop the habit of telling them those positive things.  Those actions may not be enough to change the course of their life, but I guarantee it can change yours. 

Postscript:

I called my mom to get the dates of the heart attacks.  I told her I was writing something, and would print it out and bring it to her for Mothers Day this Sunday.  As we were hanging up she said “You know, having those two heart attacks were the best thing that ever happened to me.  Things that used to make me mad don’t anymore.  I just forget about it.  It’s not worth it.”   

 I love my mom.