Musings from the Mat: Where does courage live?
“Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now.” - Goethe
When I was 7 years old, my grandpa Wakefield came to live with us at our ranch home in Lake Oswego, Oregon. His eyesight was fast disappearing, and he needed a regular gin rummy partner. That turned out to be me. A week after his arrival, the historic 1962 winter storm hit the Pacific Northwest. Gusty winds equivalent to a category 4 hurricane (over 100 mph!) downed trees everywhere. Electrical lines spilled across the roads. Nowhere was safe to step. A tree fell and shattered the big glass window in our living room. Amidst all the chaos, we noticed a honeycomb-colored cat stuck in a big cedar tree right next to the house. Although my near blind grampa could barely see the feline, he could hear the meows. “We need to rescue this kitty,” he said with conviction. I shook my head in disbelief as he made his way to the back door and cajoled this tiny creature to climb down through the branches, using his gentle voice coupled with tuna fish offerings. It was a minor miracle in an otherwise tumultuous moment. And my already cool grandpa became a compassionate god in my eyes. I still remember the moment when he said: “Can’t let life get you down. Got to stay in the game. Keep your courage alive.” (This happened to be the same advice he would offer when I kept losing to him at gin rummy.)
Sixty years later, as I crawled into bed, I heard the dimmest sound of a meow. I thought it was my cat stuck in the basement, but the high-pitched tone was different. Moments later, I realized the sound was coming from outside the window. Grabbing my bathrobe, I headed outside and noticed the crowd across the street staring up at the 3-story linden tree. There, in the crook of a big branch, shivered a tiny black kitten with silver eyes, crying non-stop. My neighbor Kate was climbing up a huge ladder in attempt to rescue. Then I saw it: a midsized raccoon sitting in the branch above the kitty, and 3 baby racoons in tow. How complicated. Two hours later, with ten more neighbors adding moral support, the racoons were convinced to lumber on down. The cat jumped to safety. What had promised to be a potential nightmare turned into a miracle—with everyone safe and only a few hours of sleep lost. Kate never lost faith for a moment that evening – her mind was not clouded by our fears that rescue would be impossible, the cat killed in front of our eyes.
As we acknowledge the Winter Solstice time, we have our inner light to guide us through these darker months. We can’t make our fear go away, but we can find the courage to work with it. Feel it in our bones. Sculpt it like clay. See it as the kitty we can rescue. Neurologically, our anxiety gets stuck in our gut. It smolders there, becoming something like a chronic condition. Our Aikido practice offers us a remedy, a way to physically and mentally meet our apprehensions with fortitude and calm. We can embody the Art of Peace with courage, curiosity, and compassion. And we are not alone in our practice. When we step through the dojo door, we are invited to connect with people we have known for decades, alongside those who we met just last month. It’s a safe space to embrace self-reflection, foster fearlessness, and defend global fellowship.
It took courage for my grandpa to rescue a kitten in a windstorm, just like it took courage for my neighbor to secure safety for both cat and racoons. Their faith never faltered. May we continue to feel our boldness and valor inside and out, to use our practice to positively address our fears and fatigue. And may we embrace the teachings of O Sensei and feel the magic that comes with never giving up on loving kindness, no matter what.
Kimberly Richardson