Shotokan: A Way of Life
Elizabeth D Kaufman (Stony Brook University)
“What, are you too afraid to look at me or something?” That was the question she posed as the others
once again ganged up to watch. I never knew why I couldn’t. It was just a fact. I couldn’t look people in the
eye. Then, she hit me. Every day of elementary school was the same.

I never knew for sure, until recently, why I just couldn’t fit in as a child. The other kids dubbed me the
class freak. I played alone. I couldn’t make friends. I didn’t understand jokes and I just didn’t “get” what
other people were talking about. I could hear things the other kids couldn’t. Not voices- things like light
bulbs and television sets buzzing, along with high pitched tones. That drove me nuts. More than anything
else, it drove me crazy how I couldn’t look most people in the eye.

The school, during my early years in the education system, thought I might be a little “slow.” After
getting past the second grade, however, they changed their mind and decided I was very intelligent. No
matter how smart they felt I was and no matter how many awards I received or what talents I had, the other
children wanted nothing to do with me.

Years inevitably passed and, while my peers opinions of me weren’t as big an issue, I still felt
misplaced and bullied. Pokémon became a means of escape from the world I seemed to be bound to.

Arriving in America, in 1998, Pokémon, a Japanese cartoon, card gaming and video gaming series, took the
country by storm. Cards, toys, a television show and a plethora of accessories stocked toy stores. Drawn to
the animation, distinct from American cartoons, I was curious about the mannerisms of the characters, but
most of all by bowing.

I saved money from working around the neighborhood and earned enough to buy the cards, a game
boy and a Pokémon game. The main character, Ash, didn’t fit in with the others, but had the same goals. It
just took him longer to reach them. This was a prominent theme in many other anime (Japanese Animation)
shows that I have come to watch. The more I watched anime, the more I felt connected with characters that
were just as clumsy and out of place as I was. More than that, however, anime I watched sparked my
curiosity about other aspects of Japanese culture.

Everything from food to manners intrigued me. How the Japanese could live in such tiny apartments
in order to share space with others was difficult for me to grasp, looking around me in America. It baffled
me (and still does) that Americans complain if they touch other people on public transportation or if they
cannot sit, and how we bump into others upon exit, not apologizing, while the Japanese shout “sumimasen
(sorry!)!” and bow as they wiggle their way out of an over packed train car. I couldn’t get enough
information. I suppose that my thirst for knowledge inspired me to take up the martial arts. Partly because of the
desire to defend myself against the bullies I faced and partly because of its mystery. Movies like The Karate
Kid promoted martial arts as a means of turning one’s life around. Also, the moves were “cool.” But above
all, bowing still intrigued me. I couldn’t figure out why people bowed to one another or what the true
history of it was. I decided I wanted to learn for myself.

It was a hot Las Vegas afternoon when I stepped foot into what would become my dojo. The windows
facing west, I was blinded by the setting desert sun. When my vision was restored, I found myself in a very
simple, open setting. Immediate to the entrance were chairs, couches, a coffee table with some Shotokan
magazines and pamphlets written in the mysterious characters I knew to be of the Japanese language.

Bamboo plants were nestled between the L-shaped couches. Black furniture made of wood and white
surroundings set the tone. Traditional Japanese lantern-shaped light fixtures enveloped the area as the sun
sunk lower. It was peaceful.

For a moment, I lost myself. It was refreshing listening to the trickling of the small fountain next to
the tall bamboo plant that I missed upon entering. The door jingled as it was opened and the students began
to arrive. Sensei appeared from the back and introduced himself with a bow. Clumsily, I bowed back.

40



“Do you know what a bow is?” I stared at him. “A proper bow,” he continued, “is showing respect. It
is also showing the other person that you trust them. You look down when bowing, back straight. You look
the person in the eye during Kumite (sparring). Respect must be shown at all times. Do you understand?”
His voice grew louder upon reaching those last words. Suddenly, out of nowhere, all the students yelled
“Osu!” and bowed perfectly, looking down.

It became clear to my why the characters bowed in anime. Unlike the characters in the anime, though,
while I could learn to bow, I didn’t progress as quickly in karate. Sensei asked me to come before class and
stay until after class. We didn’t practice kicking bags or punching. Without knowing it, sensei gave me
tools to control the things that hindered me outside the dojo.

Meditation was one of those tools. Something as simple as breathing, he taught me, could be the
foundation for everything else one did. In and out. No thoughts. In and out. Clear head. I learned to use this
skill before kumite, before performing kata (forms), while getting frustrated in school and when I felt I was
about to lose my cool anywhere outside the dojo. Over time, I was impressed- meditation, done both in the
morning and evening, really did help get my thoughts under control. I felt better.

I was soon looking at karate as more than just an Olympic sport. It was true that I did enjoy being a
national competitor after a few years of practice, but I couldn’t have become that if I didn’t live karate as a
lifestyle. Sensei taught us about Japan and the people who lived there. We would go as a group to Japanese
restaurants and learned about Japanese food. We would live treating all people as beings that were equal to
ourselves. I came to learn some of his teachings as elements of Buddhism, which I later studied in college. I
began to live life in this manner; helping others became important. So did reducing the complications in my
life. Feeling inspired, I began to participate in helping my community and “being the bigger person” as they
say in America.

Slowly, but surely, I was beginning to gain confidence. I became stronger not only physically, but
mentally. For someone who was a complete outcast, this was greatly beneficial. Most importantly, my
sensei taught me the skill that truly changed my life forever- sensei taught me how to look people in the
eye. Why this is such a big deal to me can be hard for others to understand. Until recently, I had no way to
describe my difficulties. I felt uncomfortable looking people in the eye and being around them. I panicked
when things got slightly tense. I had no hand eye coordination and did not enjoy daily life. I hid from the
world. The word I was looking for was “Asperger’s.” While I was diagnosed with everything else under the
sun, Asperger’s Syndrome, a form of autism, is now something that a doctor says we should explore. They
don’t have a cure, but they have a name.

My sensei made me look at people in the eye for periods of time. He had told me he “just knew” I
needed the help. Doing those drills while taking hits made me more uncomfortable than anything I had ever
done, including getting knocked out, but I couldn’t be more grateful.

I have chosen to study psychology and Asian American Studies, along with Japanese these past four
years. Though I’m not sure where I’m headed, I’ve enjoyed taking psychology courses, learning about
myself, and studying Japanese culture, which I fell in love with. Since karate and studying ways of
Japanese life has helped me so greatly, I intend on giving back to my community. I would love very much
to found a karate program for autistic children.

Regardless of what I do, the skills I have gained have made me who I am today. I can meditate when
my senses are overwhelmed, have self-control and have the confidence that I can learn to overcome
anything. I believe this to be the result of my training and the confidence I developed by living that life. I
truly love Japanese aesthetics. I am confident karate and the Japanese spirit within it changed who I am for
good. So confident, I can look you in the eye and say so.

41