Life is Short-Only Now do I Know What it Means

Growing up we all heard it--"have fun, life is short."  When you're young that particular phrase has little meaning because you're still on the 'new' side of life.  Family, friends, career: we work so hard at these three things, these societal norms that the word 'life' takes on a new meaning.  Accomplishments, personal and professional, are those things of which life is made.


Yes, those things ARE life, and very, very important parts of it, but so is self-expression, laughter, breathing, seeing, and listening.  It's become much more clear to me, with each passing day, that we take so much beyond the point of seriousness, including ourselves.  Is there really so much self-worth that we believe our own lives are worth more than the person next to us, around the corner, or standing on the street?


I tell you friends, I find myself laughing at more and more and taking everything less seriously all the time.  Some people find this developing trait to be annoying, but me...I think it's endearing.  By taking myself less seriously I find I enjoy things, little things and big things, more than I would otherwise.


None of this means you should be less driven or ambitious, it simply means those focal points shouldn't define you as an individual.  It's okay to be passionate about something, but not at the expense of others, or just as importantly, yourself. 


For many years in corporate settings I've watched some walk over others in an attempt to elevate themselves.  I've figured out that they were only standing on the shoulders and backs of the ones that made it happen for them, and more often than not they were later exposed for their ethical shortcomings. 

What does "life is short" mean to me?  All that I've written above and a little more.  It means peace, love, laughter, music, learning, education....and just being good to one another. 

Except for the buttholes of the world. 

I jest.

Peace to you all!

Karate Class, Kids and Me

Over the years I've attempted to teach children martial arts, and each time I've tried my success has been limited.  The constant interruptions, the fidgeting, the crying, the giggling, the thumb sucking--it all drives me crazy.  To say I've lacked patience in this realm is an understatement!


So here I am, almost a month removed from beginning a new class.  I explained to the YMCA manager that I was interested in trying to teach children seven years old to twelve years of age in one class, and my second class beginning at age thirteen and up.  That's not an unreasonable request, wouldn't you agree?  The remarkable thing?  She agreed that this was the correct age groupings.


A few days prior to my first class I received a call from the local YMCA activities director asking if I could swing by her office when I got off work.  "Sure," I replied, assuming the worst.  I figured she was going to tell me that there wasn't enough interest generated in the classes and that the floor time would be better suited for another yoga or zumba class.  I'm pretty sure I even rolled my eyes at the mere thought of those classes taking my karate floor time, but hey, what can you do when there's no love to be found?


I walked into her office and sat down.  She began, "I've got some really great news!"
"I'm all ears," I replied, a smirk on my face (I have no idea why I was smirking.  Probably a carry-over look from my full time job--the usual look I have on my face when someone brings me news I don't want to hear).


"There are almost thirty children signed up for your classes," she relayed, her white teeth shining from constant bleaching. 


The information didn't quite sink in...all I could think was, I wish my teeth were that white.


"Did you hear me, Howard?  Isn't that wonderful?!  Almost thirty children.  The parents are soooo excited to have this class offered," she smiled, her white teeth mesmerizing. 


I wonder if she uses Crest Whitening Strips?


Finally, it dawned on me what she was saying.  "I have almost thirty children signed up?  No adults?"


"Well, that's what I wanted to speak with you about, Howard.  Several parents have children ages four and up.  Many want to put their four year olds in your class."


I've got to ask her who her dentist is.


I shook my head.  "Like we discussed, children that age, four, five and six, usually aren't ready for a karate class.  The teacher winds up being a baby sitter while the kids stand around and learn little."  I thought my reasoning was sound and the argument valid.


"Would you be willing to try teaching a four, five and six year old class?  The second class would be for those seven and above?"


I should stop drinking so much coffee.  I'm sure that's what's staining my teeth.  I bet she only drinks water and tea.


My head dropped in sullen defeat.  How could I say no to my new part-time employer?  Besides, her teeth are so incredibly white.


My first few classes were exactly what I expected.  Snotty noses, giggling, crying, thumb sucking, questions about my dragon belt (I still don't know what that means), a couple of loud farts, smelly feet, and pigtails.


Something was missing though, something I couldn't quite put my finger on until the fourth or fifth class.  My impatience was mostly AWOL.  I would be lying if I said it was completely gone; on the contrary, there were a couple of kids that I wanted to see put their shoes on, tell mom and dad that my class wasn't for them, and march right out of there. 


In the old days my trouble makers would be worked harder and be disciplined even more than their classmates, but age and a little bit of wisdom seems to have crept into my mindset.  One such little girl, the daughter of a military family, was a bit of a problem child.  I made up my mind after the first class that I didn't care for her or her lack of respect for adults (particularly her sensei, which is why I made her do a few extra pushups in a few different classes).


Yesterday, I took a little different approach with her and the couple of others who obviously suffer ADHD (attention deficit Howard disorder).  I corrected them when they were wrong, but made a big deal out of even the smallest of accomplishments.  Suddenly, several of them were trying a little harder, focusing just a bit more than they had a few minutes earlier.


After class I was gathering my things when my little trouble maker girl walked back into the dojo. 


"Sensei?"


"Yes, sweety?" I answered.


She ran over to me and jumped in my arms and gave me the biggest hug.


Yeah, I'm still smiling--stained teeth and all.