kick

When I was journaling the other day about finally Getting the mohawk turn in skating, I was looking for Steven Brust's The Sun, the Moon, and the Stars. I finally found it (right where I thought it ought to be), and found the quote I was looking for. Chapter 14, part 1, page 157. Copyright Steven Brust.

I remember when, in karate, I learned how to do front kicks. I'd been doing them, sort of, for more than a year, and I didn't realize I was doing anything wrong. For the whole year, Sensei had been saying (among other things), kick with the knee, just let the lower leg relax, and manipulate the ankle so you attack with the ball of your foot. And, more and more, kick with the knee, kick with the knee.

One day, between kicks number four and five out of a set of ten at maximum speed, I kicked with the knee. That is, I let my lower leg relax and concentrated on getting the knee out there, and bam. The kick flew. It was fast, and strong, and felt so good I almost couldn't stand it. I was astounded at what I'd done, but after that, well, I had it, and that was that.

What's funny is that I hadn't been doing anything other than what Sensei had been telling us to do for more than a year, yet when it came, it was like a Zen moment of enlightenment. I wanted to share it with some friends at the doj, but I couldn't. Why? Beacause all I could say was, "You kick with your knee; just let your lower leg relax."

Everything I discovered like that; I try to listen to my teachers, and follow their directions, and sometimes I even think I have it, and then one day, bam.

( the rest of the quote, relating this to art )