Dear Dojang,
An interesting phenomenon occurs here in the mission schedule. During the week I have only one day I can really write letters, and this is typically so busy with writing, chores, errands, and other tasks of “preparation” that I might have only half an hour for a given letter. Now, I can hardly write a decent letter in that time and it will take me several sittings to complete the letter: so, in one letter taking one hour, two weeks might easily pass by. And so, despite my efforts I find that far too long has passed by between this and my last.
Things go well here. Still located in Casper I’ve put over 720 miles on my shoes during my work here. Though it sounds like quite a bit of walking, it no longer seems strenuous. At times it is downright pleasant, walking through warm sun or quiet evening with the continual Casper breeze blowing by.
But now that the challenge of long walks and aching legs, of tender fee feet threatening to blister has gone and is no longer daunting, I found a new threat has snuck in: that of complacency. The walking has become such a matter of routine, such a comfortable part of the schedule, that we do it more and more. If we are not careful we find ourselves spending more time walking than anything else. When we are no sure what to do or where to go, we might walk. Even, sometimes, when the opportunity arises to try something new or to save time, missionaries might put it aside in order to continue in the comfortable familiar. Every taekwondo practitioner knows the name of this: a comfort zone.
Comfort zones are a dangerous thing and they have a way of sneaking up on you. Like the Sirens in Greek Mythology, it’s easy to be mesmerized by the song and lulled away to destruction—or, in this case, uselessness.
But I have found that there is a great solution: that‘s what our leaders are for. When companions can’t slap each other out of the daze we have a district leader to watch us from a little distance and push us when we start to coast. And he has zone leaders to APs to Mission President and so on up the line.
In taekwondo comfort zones are just as sneaky and every bit as dangerous. I can think of three major zones that I had to get through to come the short distance I have in taekwondo, and I think everyone deals with more or less the same ones in the road to blackbelt.
The first is that of starting. Facing this identical problem in a different sphere, I think I can say I have a full understanding of what difficulties and concerns an instructor goes through with new students. Regardless of which background someone comes from you can be sure that these will be something new and “uncomfortable” for them upon joining a martial art. To pull through this the investigator must catch a glimpse of what it could mean to them—be it health, fellowship, competition, or a childhood dream—and then be willing to make the commitment and the change.
For me, I think this one wasn’t as hard as it is for some people. I saw what I liked, I knew what I wanted, and the support and leadership was instantly there.
The second comfort zone comes somewhere along the path to blackbelt sometimes early and sometimes a little later. For me it was almost exactly half-way: blue belt. Some people might pass this zone more than once on the way up. It happens when the student begins to develop some skills and starts to find out what he or she is “good at”—at least enough to start leaning on these talents and coasting. As with all of these zones, people often quit here. They can’t figure out how to change gears. This zone cost me several months of training.
Getting through the “middle zone” meant remembering why I had started in the first place. I had to pick up the same “tools” that I had used to pull through the first time and add to them the knowledge of what it had come to mean to me. I realized that it had come to mean a lot.
That re-forging experience carried me a long way and the things I had to realize have become driving forces. They carried me through to the last.
This last one is tricky, and maybe meets the siren metaphor most truly.
It is said that the blackbelt represents the vast unexplored reaches of space. For many passing through those zones and breaking through the colorful atmospheres they feel they are done: having made the trip out they are done and ready to make re-entry into their old comfort zones. When I meet those who have done this who say, “Oh, yeah, I got a black belt once,” I’m not sure what to do—whether they are to be laughed at or cried for. What a waste.
But there is another threat: that upon reaching space we will find ourselves adrift without direction. And this threat is most dangerous because it is a constant; at any moment we may find ourselves running low and then we are in danger of losing direction.
This is the very moment when we need most to take up those things that carried us through before and brandish them anew; and add to them continually, growing in purpose and plain moo-do spirit. And this is the time I have seen that we need each other the most, to boot each other out of our ruts and pull each other out of the zones.
I hope things are going as well for you in the dojang as they are here. I continue to go through my forms daily and to stretch two or three times a day. I guess that the push-ups I’m doing must be for Clory and McKayla now that Stormy has made it to blackbelt.
Though I’m a long time from seeing any of you, your letters and news continue to boot me out of any ruts and keep me practicing. I hope you are retaining the same love and passion for the art and the dojang that I do.
Until next time,
Keep your kicks high and your spirits higher!
Your black belt in a suit,
Elder T.S Anderson
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