Call Me Atlas

A favorite story of mine from my Sensei:

The monks have a lot of rules.  This story is about only one.  They may not have any kind of physical contact with women.  Not even a handshake.  One day, an older Monk, and a younger Monk were travelling along the road, back to the temple.  They came to a point where the river had risen and flooded out their path.  Along the side of the road sat a woman, crying.  It seems her family was somewhere on the other side and she could not get to them.  The older Monk calmly picked the woman up and carried her across the river and set her down on the other side.  Then, she was gone to find her family.  The two Monks continued on their way.  As the time passed, the younger Monk became angrier and angrier at the old Monk for breaking such a powerful rule.  Finally he could take it no longer and turned to the old Monk.  ”Why would you carry that woman across the river like that? Why would you carry her when you know we are not allowed?!”  The older Monk  looked to his student and said “Yes, I carried the woman across the river.  But my son, why are you STILL carrying her?”

Sensei told me this story on a night my estranged father showed up at the dojo.  He wasn’t there for me, and it was purely coincidental.  I have had a rough life with my dad.  He left when I was one.  Told Mom he was going out to play pool, and never came back.  I never had that little kid dream of my parents being together.  In fact, I always dreamed that my Mom would marry Bruce Springsteen, or Bon Jovi.  I just wanted to be loved by my dad.  But he didn’t care.  He was in and out.  I didn’t see him until I was five.  Then when I was fourteen he dropped out again.  At eighteen I was acquainted with his estranged family, and he popped in again for a few months.  After that it wasn’t until I was twenty-four that I ran into him again.  I was in a bar, and he happened to walk in.  I left, but a few days later my grandmother gave him my cell number.  So we talked.  Shortly after that I became pregnant, and my dad decided it was time to take his place as my dad.  That lasted until my son was about six months.  Then, he was gone again.   I gave up then.  Well, not true.  I’d heard he had surgery to do with his heart about a year or so later.  I tried to call.  His new wife said he’d call me back.  He never did.  Then, I gave up.  I buried my feelings on it.  I’d hurt because of him for so long.  I mean how could a father not love his child?  On this night in the dojo I was in the back of the room, stretching before class.  I was in the middle of a spinal twist when I looked up and saw him standing about 3 feet away.  I didn’t know if he’d seen me or not.  I calmly stood, walked to the front and up to Sensei and said “Can I go downstairs?  I need to go downstairs.”  And down I went.  I heard them bow in.  And then Sensei came down.  I told him everything.  So we sat, and I was told the story.  A small lesson.  But he also said I didn’t have to go up there.  I could let it go in my head, and still not have contact.

And then, I was given my first training session with sais.  God, I love distraction.

I stayed downstairs that night, loving the feel of the  sais in my hand.  Later Sensei told me that my father asked about me when he went back up.  I never realized the one boy I trained with was in fact my step-brother.  That is why he was there.  He told Sensei I was his daughter.  Sensei said he knew.  And he tried to wait around after class, but I didn’t come up until I was given the clear.  He’s tried twice since then, but I am done.  He had thirty-two years to be a dad.  No more chances.

We all carry things.  I am horrible for it.  Sometimes I feel like I am the God, Atlas.  I may forgive someone, but I never forget.  I have, however, started to learn to drop the small things.  Sometimes I may still drag them behind me a while, but slowly they are falling off.