It’s an odd moment when your favourite, comfortable, history-filled piece of kit finally gives up the ghost. For me, it happened this weekend when my favourite Kendo keikogi failed to make it out of the wash in a state that could be worn again.
The signs had been happening for months. Worn patches in the lower half of the jacket stitched back to keep it going for that little bit longer. The odd loose thread trimmed back to prevent further unravelling. Himo frayed to the point that their repaired state certainly looked more jaunty that their initial design ever intended. But the central back seam finally gave way this weekend, making repair a major and somewhat futile activity.
The jacket had been one of my first purchases when I took up Kendo in 2007. I had found it on the Tozando website as a “outlet” sale. It was too big for me, but as 1/4 the price of what it would have cost for a “correct fitting” keikogi, I figured that any alterations that might need to be made would still come under the cost of a new jacket.
And I loved the fit and feel after those alterations were made. It always felt like a part of my budo, custom corrected and worn-in with my own practice of Kendo, Iaido and Jodo over those years. And it had long survived the weekly training sessions and laundry over those years to the point that it was recognisably me in any photo with an otherwise anonymised sea of practitioners suited up and practicing.
I have been reflecting on this as I contemplate now having to wear in my other uniforms to training. It’s true that I have been slowly switching in some of my other training uniforms over the past months from what Sara at times jokingly refers to as my “Imelda Marcos collection of martial arts uniforms”. But none of them have the history, or more importantly the custom fit of that old gown.
What this means for both my practice and my identity as a martial arts practitioner I will probably discover over coming weeks. We often talk about the benefit of Japanese arts as providing the opportunity to relinquish ideas of ego and false identity (though the real world success of that idiom is certainly up for debate). So what this poses for me is a return to an anonymity of sorts. A way to try to access the notion of shoshin — or “beginners mind”.
Our own personal training histories are an intrinsic part of our identity. But these only end a stale artefact unless there is continued openness to the process of renewal and exploration of how our identity shapes our experience of the present and the opportunities for future growth. Bind yourself too tightly to the comfort of the past, or the security of that custom fit, and you miss the opportunity to grow beyond where you are.
And so I will have to stride out into training this week bereft of my security blanket, the piece of clothing that made me feel and look “right”. I will remind myself that stepping out, provides an opportunity to reframe who I am and how I deport myself, building a new look and relationship with what I do rather than be welded to the railroad tracks of the past.
I say this knowing that there are a few of you out there who, like me, are experiencing a range of personal transition in their life and finding it difficult to navigate the dissonance between the comfort of those old artefacts and identities and the dysfunction that they now represent. I certainly know that drum beat well. And that the mourning of those identities we carry around with us, both the functional and dysfunctional, prevent us from connecting to the joy to be found in the present, and the new discoveries that can present themselves, if only we can break through the fear of change to accept that we are worthy and capable regardless.
It doesn’t matter if it is change of career, illness and recovery, deeply ingrained narratives of personal (in)competence, or something as trivial as a worn out piece of clothing. The fracture point between old and new is not easy. And yes, you will most likely look and feel “wrong” as part of that until it becomes the new “right” for you as new identities emerge.
For me, with the challenges big and small, it is important to remind myself of the central role that community connection and friendship provide in all of this. And as for my old jacket, I’ll look to see what I can use and transform into something new from the fabric that is certainly salvageable. Maybe a tote bag to help ferry around a new uniform and a new identity that grows with it? A reminder that while the past is not who you are now, we can always fashion something useful from it to support our future focus.
Be well everyone! I suspect that we may have more interruptions to regular planning due to the COVID situation south of the border. But until that time, forge on, and I will look forward to seeing you in the dojo — be it face to face training, “virtual”, or in the “second dojo” of our communities.