KEEP GOING! (Or, Gambatte Kudasai)
In 2012, the night before I climbed Mount Tsukuba in Japan, I went out drinking with a gang of Irish ninjas.
We had just come from a martial arts class with one of the last living grandmasters of ninjutsu. We shared our notes, anecdotes, and bruises, all the while sipping, and sipping…and SIPPING. During the merriment, I lost count of how much beer I had actually consumed, and, a little foggy but perfectly content, I buzzed back to my little hotel room in Kashiwa city.
I should have googled Mount Tsukuba.
The trail was much steeper than I had imagined. Picture climbing up and up and up…for three hours…hung over like a motherf***er (But I still look good…right?).
Needless to say, no amount of before-bed hydration helped ease the impending doom of hangover symptoms. Also, I actually thought I was in decent shape until I made this hike. Two of the four guys that accompanied me on the trail (18 and 19 respectively), ran circles around me. Or maybe I should say, skipped, ran, and frolicked circles around me…while my clip mimicked something more akin to, let’s say…a tortoise. One of the guys was kind enough not to make me feel so bad about getting winded (Hey, I’m from Colorado, I’m used to the high altitude!), and the last, encumbered by a heart condition, yet more determined than any of us, exclaimed, “I ain’t givin’ up! Just roll me down the mountain if you have to!”
I did not complain about a hangover. Also, I’m exceedingly relieved to say that we did not have to roll our last companion down the mountain. He survived, as did we all.
There are two Japanese words that are tossed around quite often while training in Budo Taijutsu. “Gambatte Kudasai,” literally translates to “keep going, please.” It is a mantra that the Soke (grandmaster) asks us to repeat to ourselves whenever the need arises. We all face a myriad of challenges in our training, and in our lives. Often, if I’m really pushing myself to learn a new skill, no matter what it is, I inevitably want to give up at some stage in the game. These things run through my head: “It’s too hard!” “I suck.” “I’m not strong enough, smart enough, good enough, adept enough, people think I’m an idiot, I will never get this, I’m too scared, I’m not going to make it, I hate myself,” and on and on and on.
When those ugly words begin to form in my head, a gentle insertion of the phrase, “Gambatte Kudasai,” helps to quiet the noise.
Because, when we work hard, we do get better. It’s simple. The law of attraction. And so often, we stop ourselves because we literally tell ourselves we can’t do something, instead of allowing the journey change us, shape us, create the space for us to grow.
Another phrase comes to mind. The opening and closing words that are repeated in any Budo Taijutsu class, anywhere in the world. “Shinken Haramitsu Daikomyo.” Or, every moment in life is an opportunity for enlightenment."
Was I enlightened during this climb? Let’s see. What did I learn that day? Don’t drink with Irish ninjas before a hike, certainly. Meditating on “Gambatte Kudasai” as hard as you can will definitely help while climbing uphill for three hours! And then you get to see a spectacular view from the top.
I could go on about this hike; the fun, the challenges, the camaraderie I felt with my friends on the trail. But one thing stayed with me that day, more than anything else. And interestingly, it had nothing to do with the physical climb.
On the bus back to Kashiwa (And onto a two hour training session after all of that!), one of my friends (everyone from his dojo refers to him as ‘squire,’ presumably because he was something like an apprentice, and he’s given all matter of squire-like tasks — which, I might point out, he happily attends to) sat down next to me, and we began to chat about life outside the dojo. I told him about what I called my writing life; the many festivals, workshops, readings, performances I attend, the countless hours hammering away at the keyboard, the projects in various stages of completion. After which, I jokingly said, “So there, now you know everything about my other life.”
At this, Squire tilted his head and peered over his wire rimmed glasses at me. “Merridith,” he said, “Why do you refer to your writing life as one life and your martial arts life as another? Why don’t you just call it all your life?”
Wise words from the Squire.
Why did I do that? Why had I always done that? I thought on it. Was the answer that I made the separation in my mind because I didn’t think the two should have anything to do with one another? Well, that would be easy. The real answer is, I was hiding. I was scared. I had never written much about martial arts, fighting, and training, because I didn’t want to be judged or stereotyped, and I didn’t want to be the brunt of a joke. I simply didn’t want to deal with the assumed backlash or criticism I might get.
But. I’ve changed in the ten years since that hike.
Now, at nearly forty years old, it’s time for me to climb another mountain. The one towards bravery — of putting the two most important aspects of my life together and calling it one.
Thank you, Squire! I’ve never forgotten that conversation.
Here, I intend to tell you a bunch of stories about my life, on and off the mats, and on and off the page. I hope the many lessons I’ve learned as a storyteller, teacher, martial artist, world traveler, and imperfect human, will help you on your journey.
Above all, friends, keep going!
WRITING PROMPT:
Write about a time you climbed a literal or metaphorical mountain. What did you discover about yourself? What surprised you? When you completed the hike, what changed, if anything, in your day, or even your life?