Sunset of a Life
There comes a time when almost all of us realize that the glory days are behind us, when we know we are not as good as we used to be and never shall be again. For martial artists this decline in the body’s abilities typically occurs in conjunction with growth in knowledge and spiritual power such that improvements continue for decades after other athletes have hung it up. But not always. For some it is a sudden injury, for others we hang it up because of a change in job or family status. It might be losing someone. But for all of us there comes a defining moment when we realize we are no longer a kid but a mature martial artist, and that we must train hard just to slow down the decline in our abilities. That we won’t get any faster or better. A point where it hurts to get out of bed in the morning to train, and you can tell that the rain is coming because all the old injuries throb with the pressure change. It is the point you realize that you are over the hill. Like me.
I have kids that I taught that now are becoming Instructors. I have the children in class now of the children that I taught decades ago. I have actually caught myself saying things like “Back when I was a First Dan”. I am almost ready to start talking about walking ten miles uphill to class in the snow (it was only three miles, but a really big hill).
So how do we deal with the fact that we are into the afternoon of our martial arts existence? Do we like Dylan Thomas rage against the dying of the light, or do we serenely smile into the sunset? In the evening of my life I must ask myself the questions of what have I done, what is my legacy, and how will I handle the rest of the decline? In short, I must face my mortality and that I will not go out in a blaze of glory that will be remembered in song and story, but a slow fading that turns the brilliant pink into a deepening darkness and ultimately the black night. And as I face the west and watch the sky change, I have to smile, because overall it has been a beautiful day.