My kids used to study judo just down the street from my house. One day, as I was dropping them off, I noticed a new guy, an instructor, was there in place of the usual black belt sensei. This guy looked like maybe he knew something about judo; he had that old, venerable, Mr. Miyagi-san thing going on, but he wasn’t even ablack belt! I was a little disappointed that this normally really solid club would allow a person without the proper credentials to instruct the children. Humph! What kind of school is this that has some guy, with a funny looking red/white belt, to take over the class??
If you know anything about judo you know how flat out, upside down and backwards wrong I was! Upon siding up to one of the junior instructors and asking, casually, “Uh, who’s this red belt guy?” I was told that this “red belt guy” was the founder of the club and one of the highest ranking judokas in the state!!”Uh, that’s, ah, great that he, ah, still has time to, you know, instruct our children,” I mumbled, humbled, back.
My understanding then and now is so baby, so infantile. I know in part and see in part because that which is perfect is not yet. Why is it that I think that I know something when I don’t? Continue reading