Lifting the Veil of Cultism

Welcome to today's workout:

Everyone arrives on time, Team 1.
Team 1 hits the sauna for 10 minutes, stretching out.

Everyone late or beginners, Team 2.

Team 2 follows Team 1. Team 2 teaches Team 1.

A yoga workout follows for 45 minutes till we're really sweating.

For 20 minutes we work the ham strings, hips, lower back, and begin slow kicking, starting from the ground.

Aikido practice rolls up and down with Shotokan kicks from the ground for 10 minutes.

Standing, combination kicks with hand techniques, 20 minutes.

Use pads on kicks, elbow and hand strikes, 5 minutes each technique.

Break off for duos trading hand and kicks with blocks and counter attacks, some twists and turns and falls on the mat. Half hour.

Sparring gear on, continue. Free sparring, rotating partners. Half hour.

Move on to kata, basics to one advanced. Thirty minutes of this. Don't forget the water and breathing breaks between the above.

Break down the moves, repeat till we're almost can't sweat anymore.

Find that application. Put it on the mat. Roll on the matt, roll, roll, roll.

Karate techniques from the ground.

Basic Aikido, basic Judo, grips and throws.

One defender, multiple attackers. We're already going for more than three hours.

Bring out the weapons, basic warm ups.

Kata with weapons.

Breakdown the move, do the applications.

Attack and defend and block with weapons.

Everyone speak.

Cool down and stretch.

Meditation.

I thought of this repertoire while riding over the bridge.

Perhaps it could be a half or full day seminar.

Wondered who would show up to class, how much of this regimen I could stick to.

How would I modify things for those late, or whoever was injured, handicapped, couldn't follow.

How do I keep it humble.

I heard voices, questions:

"Do we wait for your count, Sensei?".

No, I won't give a count. Your own count from now on.

In fact, you don't need to bow anymore.

Or call me Sensei, or wear a gi.

I am no longer your teacher.

I no teach.

I haven't taught for years, nor have I stepped into a dojo since 2001.

The closest I've come is a Yoga class. 
Or a seminar on project management skills.

They still all lead to the same types of dreams: elitist fantasies encouraging macho heroic swashbuckling or swift unencumbered and deep strategic decision making. The Generals understand.
Confucius understands.
Public servant = martial artist.

It's a plea for Wing Chun, put forward by a woman who could smartly deal with testosterone.

It's been years. I put the breaks on my bike slowly as I reach the Manhattan side of the bridge. A sigh. 

I put the brakes on that martial spirit. On that 12 year episode of following, obeying and creating art in this other world.

That door was opened to the outside and I never came back in.

The opening of the door was like lifting the veil of cultism.

Photo of Japanese actor Rome Kanda, in Manhattan, circa 2004