I'm no stranger to the arts, granted I never became a master of any particular art, I enjoyed what I did greatly. I'm saddened by the fact that I haven't played my trumpet in many years, I always have the intentions of opening the case up, placing the mouthpiece in, and playing again. I do miss it, but what I really miss the most is performing.
I started my trumpet playing back in 5th grade, and my mom used to make fun of me, saying that I sounded like a dead cow. Little did she know it would become one of my favorite pastimes. Playing trumpet, especially in front of a crowd, was one of my favorites. I also enjoyed writing poetry. I had a notebook full of my writing, and it usually got passed around the lunch table in high school, I even had a few published in the school paper, and in a poetry volume at our county library back in Ohio.
I always enjoyed expressing myself in those ways. Though, looking back at them, I cringe. Reading old poetry, I think to myself “I sucked back then. Holy shit, this is awful”
I had this same experience happen just recently, with Aikido. I was looking at my first test video, in reference, and I couldn't handle it. It was horrible to see that in March, I was stiff, and choppy. I ended up closing the video before I even got to the part I needed to see. It was painful to see, but it was also a reminder that I've come a long way from that 'performance'.
Though, I still feel that... anxious and nervousness inside anytime I think about doing a test. That signature “butterfly-in-the-stomach” feeling. It's just another form of stage fright. During school, I did numerous Solo competitions, playing in front of judges. I did improv acting on the stage of the Renaissance Theatre in Mansfield, Ohio. I was a soloist in our jazz band. It seems these tests are just another performance.
The real test, as it is in any art, is what you do up to the performance. I spent many months working on my solo pieces, and probably a year before my improv performance. I threw many pieces of paper away trying to pen the right words in my poetry, and the final product never was perfect. It was as good as it could be that day. This is the same for these tests. In any art, including Aikido, the test doesn't determine your rate of improvement. The only way you can improve, is to keep practicing. The test is just a road marker. Belts wear down over time, trophies lose their shine, paper becomes brittle and faded. The only part that still remains is the experience and knowledge that has been gained. Testing, and performances are fun, but it isn't the true test.
I started my trumpet playing back in 5th grade, and my mom used to make fun of me, saying that I sounded like a dead cow. Little did she know it would become one of my favorite pastimes. Playing trumpet, especially in front of a crowd, was one of my favorites. I also enjoyed writing poetry. I had a notebook full of my writing, and it usually got passed around the lunch table in high school, I even had a few published in the school paper, and in a poetry volume at our county library back in Ohio.
I always enjoyed expressing myself in those ways. Though, looking back at them, I cringe. Reading old poetry, I think to myself “I sucked back then. Holy shit, this is awful”
I had this same experience happen just recently, with Aikido. I was looking at my first test video, in reference, and I couldn't handle it. It was horrible to see that in March, I was stiff, and choppy. I ended up closing the video before I even got to the part I needed to see. It was painful to see, but it was also a reminder that I've come a long way from that 'performance'.
Though, I still feel that... anxious and nervousness inside anytime I think about doing a test. That signature “butterfly-in-the-stomach” feeling. It's just another form of stage fright. During school, I did numerous Solo competitions, playing in front of judges. I did improv acting on the stage of the Renaissance Theatre in Mansfield, Ohio. I was a soloist in our jazz band. It seems these tests are just another performance.
The real test, as it is in any art, is what you do up to the performance. I spent many months working on my solo pieces, and probably a year before my improv performance. I threw many pieces of paper away trying to pen the right words in my poetry, and the final product never was perfect. It was as good as it could be that day. This is the same for these tests. In any art, including Aikido, the test doesn't determine your rate of improvement. The only way you can improve, is to keep practicing. The test is just a road marker. Belts wear down over time, trophies lose their shine, paper becomes brittle and faded. The only part that still remains is the experience and knowledge that has been gained. Testing, and performances are fun, but it isn't the true test.