I left my previous school about two weeks out from their grading. I was pretty bummed about it. What's the point of knowing what a tang is if I'm not being marked on it?
I realize not all schools grade in the way that mine does. I also realize that some HEMAists don't feel compelled to assign a rank to their skill set and are happy to never go through any kind of grading process. For myself; my evolutionary hard-wiring dictates my desire to belong to a group and to adhere to that chosen group's hierarchy.
Plus, like, it's fun.
So, I graded last week.
I've been practicing HEMA for about a year and a half. Before last week, I had not yet had an opportunity to undertake a grading. It felt like it was long overdue. I was ready to prove myself. Maybe a little too ready - since I found myself unexpectedly nervous in the days and hours leading up to it. The instructors had been coy about what the grading consisted of, I didn't know if I'd be whacked with a paddle or forced to run across hot coals.
It turns out, nothing so extreme. We spent about an hour and a half doing all the same drills I knew and loved - only this time we were being watched like hawks. The added knowledge of being scrutinized made it harder to concentrate at times, and I found my footwork getting clumsy and my face betraying that fact. I couldn't understand it; people around me were laughing and joking, why was I seemingly the only one stressing?
Well, now that it's done, I can see how Not A Big Deal it is. Sure, it's nice to get assigned a colour and a patch and to be able to tell your friends what a bonafide martial artist you are. It's nicer, I think, to have a tangible way to measure the hours of work you have put into getting better at something. Some people abhor labels, but sometimes they can be quite comforting.
I'm not any better at HEMA just because I got assigned a rank. But now I'll have something I can hold, touch, look at. Remind myself in my less confident moments that I'm not just imagining my progress. Everyone else can see it too.
That's a pretty nice feeling.
Thursday, December 7, 2017
Tuesday, September 26, 2017
When Do I Get to Call Myself a Martial Artist?
You know, I've been 'doing' HEMA for a little over a year now. Allowing for semester breaks, personal holidays, incidental absences... That's probably a good fifty classes - at two different schools, focusing on several different weapons types and styles. You'll have to bear with me here, as an arts student maths was never my strong suit - but that's about 150 hours of training. They say it takes 10,000 before you are an 'expert' at something. By comparison, my measly experience seems to barely even qualify as 'novice'. So, how do I evaluate my own progress? Can I even call myself a martial artist yet? What does any of it even mean?
I consider my arts background. When I think about that industry, anyone can be an artist. You just need to create art. Doesn't have to be good, doesn't even have to have taken you very long. You wrote a song? Artist. Drew a picture? Artist. The bar is very low, and it's a label absolutely anyone can pick up and affix to themselves. There's no training required (sure, I trained for three years, but more fool me) and, as a result, there is perhaps a little less prestige associated with the classification. So, righto. No problems calling myself an artist.
What about 'martial artist'? I often wonder where the title came from. One might think that those stereotypical masculine, brutish men who love a bit of punchy-kicky would want to distance themselves from the mincing art world as much as possible. Why pick 'artist'? Why not 'martial practitioner'? 'Martial guru'? 'Martial whiz'? 'Martial virtuoso'? 'Martial synonyms'?
I digress.
You can't just call yourself a martial artist. Well, you can, but that sort of hubris is reserved for frauds and people with Youtube channels. If somebody told me they were a martial artist, I would completely expect that that person should be able to kill me with their pinky finger. What's the point, otherwise?
Well, the thing about art is that it's a constant work in progress. Everything you make is a little bit less shit than the last thing. You learn something new every time and you take it forward with you into your future endeavours. Now, I haven't been doing HEMA long, but I'm starting to work out the parallels. Even the best of the best - who have been fighting since before I was born - are still learning. They're learning how to improve their art. It'll never be perfect, such is the human condition. But it can be better than it was before.
In the same way I work on vocal tonality, I practice my linear footwork.
I get a little better at writing dialogue. I get a little better at keeping my point on line.
Tomorrow I might write a song. The day after that, I might finally understand how to do a cadence properly.
It's all art, man. I am a martial artist. I don't have to be a good one, I just have to be the kind who is always open to learning something new.
I consider my arts background. When I think about that industry, anyone can be an artist. You just need to create art. Doesn't have to be good, doesn't even have to have taken you very long. You wrote a song? Artist. Drew a picture? Artist. The bar is very low, and it's a label absolutely anyone can pick up and affix to themselves. There's no training required (sure, I trained for three years, but more fool me) and, as a result, there is perhaps a little less prestige associated with the classification. So, righto. No problems calling myself an artist.
What about 'martial artist'? I often wonder where the title came from. One might think that those stereotypical masculine, brutish men who love a bit of punchy-kicky would want to distance themselves from the mincing art world as much as possible. Why pick 'artist'? Why not 'martial practitioner'? 'Martial guru'? 'Martial whiz'? 'Martial virtuoso'? 'Martial synonyms'?
I digress.
You can't just call yourself a martial artist. Well, you can, but that sort of hubris is reserved for frauds and people with Youtube channels. If somebody told me they were a martial artist, I would completely expect that that person should be able to kill me with their pinky finger. What's the point, otherwise?
Well, the thing about art is that it's a constant work in progress. Everything you make is a little bit less shit than the last thing. You learn something new every time and you take it forward with you into your future endeavours. Now, I haven't been doing HEMA long, but I'm starting to work out the parallels. Even the best of the best - who have been fighting since before I was born - are still learning. They're learning how to improve their art. It'll never be perfect, such is the human condition. But it can be better than it was before.
In the same way I work on vocal tonality, I practice my linear footwork.
I get a little better at writing dialogue. I get a little better at keeping my point on line.
Tomorrow I might write a song. The day after that, I might finally understand how to do a cadence properly.
It's all art, man. I am a martial artist. I don't have to be a good one, I just have to be the kind who is always open to learning something new.
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
New Year, New Beginnings... And Dolphin Jousting
It seems like an eternity since I last spared a thought for this blog - but, in actual fact, it's only been a few months. Time plays tricks on us all.
It's a new year. I will be starting at a new HEMA club. While I miss my previous school dearly, I am looking forward to the new challenges and vastly different training environment I am sure to find myself in. This club has a far broader range of styles taught than the previous one - something that is both daunting and exciting. I had enough trouble at a school that taught only sabre - I wonder how I'll go with learning longsword, singlesword, unarmed... probably some other things I haven't yet conceived of... Yikes.
I had my first go at longsword at this club's final class last year; it was like my very first HEMA class all over again. Couldn't figure out where to put my limbs. It was somewhat disheartening to feel as though the skills I had been learning the previous six months were now useless (they aren't, but it certainly felt that way at the time). Six months doesn't sound like a long time, on paper. But for me - a person who has never really done any kind of sport or martial art before - it's the longest I've committed to something of this nature.
When I left my old club last year, I spent some time convinced that I would give it up for good. I was in a shitty place mentally and emotionally. For certain (and respectfully unspecified) reasons, HEMA now carried with it some negative and upsetting connotations. I really didn't think I could continue with it, and I remained convinced of this for weeks and weeks - feeling sorry for myself that I had to let go of something that had been quickly becoming a passion. But, slowly but surely, a fog lifted - and I realized that I wasn't willing to let it go after all.
I had started something that terrified me, something I was entirely unfamiliar with. I didn't only start it - I kept it up for half a year. And I realized it was something I really, really enjoyed doing. Why would I quit now? So I didn't. And, if I may be allowed a little moment of self-congratulation, I'm a bit proud of myself for that.
Okay, mushy stuff done. So, where are we now?
The beginning of the year at the new club calls for a long weekend away in a sandy paradise. A kind of preparatory getaway to usher in the new semester. I figured I'd better tag along - get to know my new classmates, see how well they party (hearty, it turns out). When I arrived the holiday house was bustling with excitable chatter and the unmistakable smell of bacon cooking. Swords and gear were strewn across the living room floor, and beautiful Greyhounds meandered past - receiving an abundance of reverent pats as they went. It was a great atmosphere and I was already feeling excited by osmosis to be amongst it.
The weekend's itinerary consisted of varied weapons workshops, a crash course in marching, near-excessive barbecuing, and the battling of inflatable dolphins in the ocean. I couldn't stay for the entire camp but I thoroughly enjoyed what I could be there for. This club has an incredible sense of community and camaraderie - it's really quite touching to see. I look forward to getting to know these guys as the year progresses. I am thoroughly sunburnt and my muscles still ache from the workshops, but it was a fantastic pre-semester introduction.
Class starts in earnest next week and I am excited to start this new chapter in my (still rather new) martial arts career. Go swords.
It's a new year. I will be starting at a new HEMA club. While I miss my previous school dearly, I am looking forward to the new challenges and vastly different training environment I am sure to find myself in. This club has a far broader range of styles taught than the previous one - something that is both daunting and exciting. I had enough trouble at a school that taught only sabre - I wonder how I'll go with learning longsword, singlesword, unarmed... probably some other things I haven't yet conceived of... Yikes.
I had my first go at longsword at this club's final class last year; it was like my very first HEMA class all over again. Couldn't figure out where to put my limbs. It was somewhat disheartening to feel as though the skills I had been learning the previous six months were now useless (they aren't, but it certainly felt that way at the time). Six months doesn't sound like a long time, on paper. But for me - a person who has never really done any kind of sport or martial art before - it's the longest I've committed to something of this nature.
When I left my old club last year, I spent some time convinced that I would give it up for good. I was in a shitty place mentally and emotionally. For certain (and respectfully unspecified) reasons, HEMA now carried with it some negative and upsetting connotations. I really didn't think I could continue with it, and I remained convinced of this for weeks and weeks - feeling sorry for myself that I had to let go of something that had been quickly becoming a passion. But, slowly but surely, a fog lifted - and I realized that I wasn't willing to let it go after all.
I had started something that terrified me, something I was entirely unfamiliar with. I didn't only start it - I kept it up for half a year. And I realized it was something I really, really enjoyed doing. Why would I quit now? So I didn't. And, if I may be allowed a little moment of self-congratulation, I'm a bit proud of myself for that.
Okay, mushy stuff done. So, where are we now?
Dolphin jousting. That's where. (Image credit: GLECA)
The weekend's itinerary consisted of varied weapons workshops, a crash course in marching, near-excessive barbecuing, and the battling of inflatable dolphins in the ocean. I couldn't stay for the entire camp but I thoroughly enjoyed what I could be there for. This club has an incredible sense of community and camaraderie - it's really quite touching to see. I look forward to getting to know these guys as the year progresses. I am thoroughly sunburnt and my muscles still ache from the workshops, but it was a fantastic pre-semester introduction.
Class starts in earnest next week and I am excited to start this new chapter in my (still rather new) martial arts career. Go swords.
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