About two months into my stint as Uchi-Deshi, Sensei called me up to demonstrate the technique Shiho-Nage. The fall from the technique is a simple sit fall. I whizzed the strike in, eager as always to prove myself as a good uke. Sensei moved, grasped my wrist, twisted my arm up over his own head and behind my shoulder, and threw. Down I went, fast. I forgot to tuck my chin. My shaved head bounced hard off the mostly forgiving mat. Dazed I scrambled to my feet, my eagerness not diminished. Again I attacked, again he threw, again I forgot. Wham! My head rang harder this time. Again I rose, again he threw, harder. Again I forgot. Wham!
As the class watched unmoving and silent I attacked, was thrown, and hit my head 19 times (I have a thing about counting during techniques). Each time Sensei threw harder and faster. I knew something was amiss, but my head was ringing harder than I could think. On the 19th time something clicked, and finally I tucked my chin. The fall was fast and hard, but infinitely more comfortable.
Breathing hard from the effort, Sensei exclaimed, “I was wondering how long it was going to take you!� The class burst into laughter.
I have never forgotten that lesson, and I have always tucked my head in the subsequent seven-plus years of practice.
GRINDING THE LESSON IN – Learning through the Physical Vector
About two months into my stint as Uchi-Deshi, Sensei called me up to demonstrate the technique Shiho-Nage. The fall from the technique is a simple sit fall. I whizzed the strike in, eager as always to prove myself as a good uke. Sensei moved, grasped my wrist, twisted my arm up over his own head and behind my shoulder, and threw. Down I went, fast. I forgot to tuck my chin. My shaved head bounced hard off the mostly forgiving mat. Dazed I scrambled to my feet, my eagerness not diminished. Again I attacked, again he threw, again I forgot. Wham! My head rang harder this time. Again I rose, again he threw, harder. Again I forgot. Wham!
As the class watched unmoving and silent I attacked, was thrown, and hit my head 19 times (I have a thing about counting during techniques). Each time Sensei threw harder and faster. I knew something was amiss, but my head was ringing harder than I could think. On the 19th time something clicked, and finally I tucked my chin. The fall was fast and hard, but infinitely more comfortable.
Breathing hard from the effort, Sensei exclaimed, “I was wondering how long it was going to take you!� The class burst into laughter.
I have never forgotten that lesson, and I have always tucked my head in the subsequent seven-plus years of practice.
Some lessons are learned better without words.