I've written alot about the over romanticizing of the martial arts in this blog. So much so that my number one fan rolls her eyes at me when I use the term and often asks me "what does that even mean"?
I've even scoffed at the romanticizing that people make over the instructor / student relationship. If there is a place however, where I am most hypocritical it is in this regard. My biggest three influences in the martial arts live rent free in my heads as semi-god like beings. "That's different" I'd argue, but I'd be wrong. The fact of the matter is, that when you work with someone for so long, on something as important as self defense and something with a history that you have a personal opportunity to keep alive - bonds are going to form.
Last year in April I learned that the second person I had the privilege of training from white belt to black belt was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I was shocked, and saddened. Although I have trained a total of three people from their first day until blackbelt, only one remains training. I had lost touch with this individual but quickly reached out when I heard the news.
True to everything he was always about, he was gracious, curious about my life and proud of his family's achievements. We talked about how fun it was to train. I was shocked and crushed by his bravery in spite of his condition. He was excited to go scuba diving again, and he again told me how much he loved Bonaire. He finished the conversation giving me advice on being a good father, and a good husband - something I have no doubt he was to his core, so it was appreciated, muchly.
Today I learned that he has succumbed to his illness.
I'm stuck sitting at my job, frequently losing my composure silently at my desk. One of the other black belts who helped run our school said it best, "I wish I could have been around him more, selfishly...loved that guy". Yeah, I did too. Regardless of how I currently feel about the martial arts, I don't carry many regrets, but not keeping in touch with him much after he left my school is one of them.
He had come from a Tiger Schulman program. Had to be in 2002, or 2003. Something like that. I'll never forget this short man, with a comically long goatee beard. He was boisterous, but when he wanted to talk about a serious matter he would take a hilariously quieter tone. Although confident in his sparring, he took on one of those quiet tones and explained to me that he was not very good at forms. I told him he came to the right place, that I liked forms enough for both of us, and that he was going to by default get good at them just by sticking around me. I was happy with the last forms I saw him do.
He'd hold court sometimes after class, talking in his boisterous voice, with everyone listening and he'd always leave for the night with a hearty "good night everybody". Little things like that stick with me. I notice and I'm affected / bothered (many times, not this one) by idiosyncrasies like this. To this day I can hear this in my head, in his voice. People would laugh, or roll their eyes at the things he said -- It was a good time. His sons trained at my school and they were good kids, hard workers and respectful.
Sometimes there is a moment when you just know that someone is going to make it, that black belt isn't a question of if, but of when. Sparring him one night, I threw a jumping front, round kick at him. He bit on the fake, and unfortunately, my usual good control took the night off and I walloped him with the round kick to the head. Truth be told, not many people ever fell for that one, so I was kind of as shocked as he was. I stopped the fight and asked him if he was ok. He smiled, admitted that he was seeing stars but wanted to continue. We moved around and he encouraged me to not back off. It was clear to me in that moment, he got it. He very much so had what it took to be a black belt.
His black belt test was of the harder variety. 20 or so black belts on the board all hostile towards the candidates. He stood in that pressure, he did his forms, fought his fights, and proved his rank. It was never in question in my mind. I was proud. My first student was kind of a phenom, and is a story unto itself, so when my second student stood in the fire and came out stronger, I was prouder than any moment as an instructor to that point in my teaching career.
My school closed shortly after his black belt test, and our parent school was too far of a commute for he and his family. Similar to me now, he had a young child and his responsibilities as a father and work put martial arts on the back burner.
There's no lesson in this post, no message, or ray of understanding. I've said in this blog before that I write this for myself. I'm not in a good place with the martial arts, but I kicked the dust off this blog to remember my friend and 2nd black belt ever.
Rest in peace Nels, we were well met in this life and I hope when I see you again that you don't fall for my shitty jump kicks.
