Perspective is a funny thing. Most of us remember something from our childhood — our locker in the 3rd grade, the playground where we played — as vast spaces full of possibilities and not a little magic. How many of us have revisited these places in our adult years to find these places somehow shrunken by time, relieved of their magic by the practicalities of being, as my grandmother used to say, “grown”? Such a common occurrence is this littling of things that I’ve always been faintly surprised that some sort of postulate or theory has not been derived by a space-time physicist (or whatever they’re called these days). Maybe there has been, and my not knowing is what I get for letting my subscriptions to all those scientific journals lapseÉat any rate, being a child is something that is supposed to be over when the clock strikes 18 and the voter registration card comes in the mail. Which brings me to this art.

I am a “late bloomer” by some standards, not having discovered Bujinkan Ninjutsu until well into my adult years. I have only been walking this path for a split second, but already I am experiencing the first budding of a balance of self I had never imagined possible in an adult world of bills and deadlines and expectations (oh my!). This newly paved road of mine has been full of lovely surprises, big and small, in the most unlikely places, but one of the most joyous has been the reincarnation (or rediscovery, as it may be) of a place I previously thought relegated to passing scents from fading Polaroids...childhood.

The width of innocence, the joy of learning the simplest things. The discovery of color, light, sound, movement. Who would have thought that, at this age, I would have so much in common with Melissa, who is 13 months old, lives next door to me with her mom, and is gleefully fascinated by the riot of colors at the vegetable stand and the spinning of clothes in a dryer. But one of the most amazing things of all is the smashing of the littling theory. The more I see and learn, the wider the horizons are, the more vast and magical the places in which we play. Watching a high-level practitioner at work always leaves me wide-eyed, but a perfectly angled ichimonji no kamae is an equal source of joy for me.

I have heard it said that without some pain there is no realization. For me, this is not an easy road, but it is the road I choose without hesitation, happily and with a determined gait. I believe our Soke has said (and please please don’t quote me, I’m just a kid) that practitioners of this art eventually travel full circle back into the innocence of childhood... as a black belt, with much wear, eventually becomes white again. These words are a source of strength for me, and I will carry them with me into the pain as I grow up, a reminder of the rainbows of vegetable stands and spin cycles. One day, I may be able to solve a complex calculus problem, but right now I have just learned to tie my shoes. In my heart, both are miracles in their own right.

Kat is a just a newbie. She hopes to continue the warrior legacy of her African, Celtic, and Native American ancestors. She can be reached via e-mail battlekat@aol.com