My ripple rushes quickly to the feet of the judges as they become aware of my presence.

As I wade through this fresh space to find my center, my eyes frame the outer limits of this ring back to the center, an artist sizing his canvas.

As I place myself, traditions of ages past compel my respect, and respect is given in return.

Now my mind takes me into myself as I begin to emerge into a world shut off from sound and sight.

The moment is complete. I begin to stir. My hands gather space, my feet entwine space.

I'm suddenly at one point, but just as suddenly at another, as my story unfolds.

My eyes begin to see the attackers as one by one they appear, but I'm not altered.

My right arm reaches out to quickly dispense of one of them. Another falls to my left side-kick as I spin on yet another, who drops just as suddenly as he was up.

My attackers are many, yet my fight is not real. I begin to tire as my fight is now with myself.

At last my attackers are few. They become dim to my eyes. My world begins to vanish as sounds of encouragement ripple on the air, but I need to hold onto my world a little longer.

A quick glimpse of the respected ones compels me to push on as my once quiet pond now revels in a torrent of motion that laps the outer edges of the ring.

My arms gather back to me and my legs become one again. It is done. I relinquish my world and accept theirs. My heart pounds, but my pond begins to settle.

My eyes adhere to numbers but my heart measures not. They say I have done well. I step from the pond, my gi wet, and I am refreshed.

Larry Tatum