Dear Oklahoma...

This year more than ever, people from home are consistently saying the same thing “you should come home.” Though it pulls at my heart, what really influenced me was a 2010 Leadership Council talk at UCO. I believe it was a guest speaker but it could have been Scott "the great" Monetti. Whoever it was, they talked about being content or rather to challenge ourselves daily to not be content.

When we become comfortable we can also become stale and develop a fixed mindset. Whereas, if we pursue a life of things that make us uncomfortable or at least challenges us, we can grow. Our ideas of what the world should look like, the perception of the people and culture around us and how to handle the future will be better off when we challenge our ideas and assumptions.

Yes, I fully agree that I could be happy at home. In fact, it would be incredibly easy to live there. I’ve developed meaningful relationships with my family and a few close friends, I could quickly find a job, I know where I could volunteer and I could open a dojo. I have connections and ties everywhere in the great state of Oklahoma. It would be easy. I would be simply content but being content is not enough for me.

I want to push myself past content and see just how far I can go. 

I want to be called out for a micro-aggression and not be defensive, when just last year I heard the term for the first time. I want to discuss stereotyping and cultures with a security guard long after all the students were picked up. I want to struggle to pronounce names because I live in a place where the ones I grew up with are considered the “unique” names. I want to sit on a bus with a man seeking refuge from his country during a time of "conflict" and have a 3-hour conversation using translating apps. I want to experience life not from a bubble with a radius of my own backyard but from meeting people, living in other cultures and being open to my own vulnerability.

So dear dojo, Red Cross and every other type of family back home, know I love you and miss you dearly but understand that I am exactly where I need to be.

Sincerely,
Jenn

                         

I traded in my Chaco hiking sandals for business casual shoes

I feel out of place in a location where I once felt great comfort - my home, Oklahoma. The traffic, city lights, tall buildings, lack of recycling as a norm, trash-filled lakes and no natural beauty to be active within a 20-45min drive is saddening.

My CamelBak is no longer my go-to required item like a purse or wallet is for others. It is hung up just reminding me of what I left and giving me hope that I will use it again. -I should probably clean it at some point.

My Chaco tan is quickly fading not because of a lack of sun (100 degree days) but a lack of outdoor use. There is nowhere for me to hike in the mornings unless I drive a couple hours away.

In a weird way, I'm happy that people haven't been bombarding me with texts and calls. I find it overwhelming when they do after returning from a place without reception.

I think I'm starting to not just understand logically but understand emotionally how my students feel coming from cities such as Harlem and L.A. to live at a school in the mountains of CO - out of place, not centered.


There are MANY benefits of being home: family, not missing birthdays or holidays, watching my nieces and nephews grow up, being there for my best friends and returning to the place I feel most home, my dojo.

I also am fairly certain this move back home will get easier once my new job transitions from training to working on projects in the community. I know I need to keep busy and am addressing this as quickly as possible.
I joined a conversation group to help me improve my Spanish and I help teach twice a week at my dojo. Once I (re)learn how to use and fix a sewing machine, I'll have a great project (my t-shirt quilt) to work on throughout the winter in my evenings.I know change can take time but I don't think I was expecting to feel so distant from a state I once called home.


My next job will be in nature.

My Mountain

As I'm sitting on the floor in the middle of a large room I find myself pondering many of things. You see, I just got done practicing an art I like to call karate and I'm starting to fully grasp the understanding that karate IS a way of life. I believe I always had a notion of this but just now am I seeing the entirety of it.
I was told that earning my black belt is simply reaching the bottom of a mountain and all those years previously were just a walk to the base. I used to agree with this metaphor but always with some reservation. I mean as many years as I've been doing this, surely I was part way up the mountain when I earned by black belt. No, i wasn't and its clear to me now. It's been almost five years since I tested for that belt and I'm only a few miles up the mountain, if that.
Each person finds his or her own path and for me it has been a strange one with many breaks, confusion and stress. Getting away from the dojo I've called home since I was seven and "spreading my wings" is something I hope never to take for granted. I'm developing a self-defense program for a local school district and I'm filled with so many emotions, and a lot of nerves. At first I didn't want to let my karate family down and I was filled with anxiety but as I sit here and let that go, I realized something; this is my path. So my methods may be different or maybe they will be identical but I get to make these choices. I get to decide what direction I want to take. Do I want to continue with in the traditional Okinawan footsteps? I don't know. What I do know is that right now the only person I can let down is myself. This is a very freeing thought and I'm not sure I would have come to this conclusion without hiking my own way up the mountain.