"You must in all Airs follow the strength, spirit and disposition of the horse, and do nothing against nature; for art is but to set nature in order, and nothing else." – William Cavendish, 1st Duke of Newcastle

I needed help with tying my white belt. One of the younger blackbelts, not yet a sensei, sniggered and then offered to help.

The first class was rough. I didn’t know what I was doing. I stood lined up in front of a mirror. Small children stood on my left and right side. I was to walk, in a half-moon pattern forward and backward each time the Sensei called and punch the air.

This was called “Chart.”

The Gi was uncomfortable. The starched legs made it odd to walk. My belt kept twisting up above the waistline and then the top “Keikogi” would twist slightly and push into my armpits.

I wasn’t sure how this was supposed to build confidence.

On the sixth count the whole class would Kiai, or spirit shout. It was uncomfortable and I did not participate in the yelling.

After the upper body was done, we did chart for the lower body. This took more strength than it looked, standing on one foot in a certain form and practicing each kick forward and backwards six times.

I watched myself in the mirror. My kicks were weak.

After chart was finished, we went to physical exercises as a group.

Pushups on the count.

I dropped down on the floor. The whole floor was covered in a green rug with bits of red sprinkled in. I would need to wash my hands after this. All these bare feet, on a rug. Gross.

“Ichi!” the sensei called.

The children beside me did a pushup each, with apparent ease. I started to lower myself and my arms gave out.

Great. Now I would need to wash my face.

“Ni!”

I went to my knees and pushed myself up. Looking around the room, about half the students were on their knees.

This surprised me but I kept it to myself.

“San!”

I tried again, and again, landed on my face. I couldn’t even do girl pushups.

“Come on White Belt! Is that all you’ve got?” Another sensei stood towering over me.

His toenails needed to be trimmed.

“I’m trying.”

He clucked his tongue.

“I am trying, SIR,” he corrected me.

“I am trying, Sir,” I repeated back. He clucked his tongue again and walked away.

After pushups we went to ab exercises.

Then it was time to break off into groups to learn Kata, forms.

“Now, without looking, which one of you white belts can tell me what the creed says? It hangs on the wall above the mirrors where you just spent the last hour.” The students next to me went wide eyed.

I shyly put my hand halfway up. The sensei peered at me.

“Go ahead.”

“I come to you with only Karate: empty hands. I have no weapons. But should I be forced to defend myself, my honor or my principles; should it be a matter of life or death, of right or wrong, then here are my weapons, my empty hands.”

I had only been staring at it the majority of class. It was a nice creed. I could get behind that.

He looked at me for a long moment before asking

“Do you have photographic memory?”

I shook my head no.

We went into the first kata, learning the steps and the body positioning for it. The sensei grabbed my arm.

“It is okay if I touch you to adjust how you do this?” I nodded and allowed him to move my arm.

I liked kata the most. Each step was precise. Each arm movement and foot movement controlled.

This was dressage for people.

At the end of class I went into the girls’ locker room to get dressed into civilian clothes.

There were only two other women in the school. One of them had left already.

“Be careful out there,” she said to me. I was midway through pulling my pants off, so it startled me considerably.

“.. Careful out where?”

She nodded toward the dojo floor.

“You are young and pretty. It is a shark tank in here.”

“I don’t understand.” She shrugged, clearly having said all she was going to say and walked out of the locker room.

I shook it off and smiled to myself.

Someone had called me pretty.