Cho on Nostr: Kendo is my light #dream #kendo #martialarts #challenge #sports #life #women #belief ...
Kendo is my light
#dream #kendo #martialarts #challenge #sports #life #women #belief
Prologue
Where is my designated spot of victory?
My heart raced, causing my breath to quicken. Aching sensations pulsed throughout my entire body as I treaded barefoot. My feet, torn and wounded, endured excruciating pain. Surak Mountain stood before me, its surface adorned with countless small, frozen stones. Each step upon these icy pebbles pierced
my bare soles, evoking a sensation akin to thorns pricking my skin. Goosebumps erupted all over me with every stride, amplifying the agony I endured. Hours had already elapsed, and my feet now bled
profusely, necessitating periodic respite to cleanse them in the snow.
Arriving at work that day, I realized with dismay that everyone was dressed in hiking attire. In my
hectic state, preoccupied with kendo, I had forgotten that we were embarking on a mountain expedition together. My boss glanced at me and declared, “You’ll be staying at the office.” Pleadingly, I implored,
“I’ll manage.” He cast a silent gaze upon me and proceeded ahead. I continued to beseech and trailed
behind the group until one of my female colleagues suggested, “Would you like to borrow my shoes? I
have an extra pair of trainers in my car.” Her audacious proposal incited fierce glares from the others.
She was considerably smaller in size than I. Hastily, I exclaimed, “Yes! Yes! What a brilliant idea.
Thank you so much.” Though I struggled to fit my feet into her sneakers, my boss glanced at me once more, and somehow, I managed to squeeze them in. He remained silent, granting me a stroke of fortune.
I trailed silently behind the group, but even before reaching the mountain, the ill-fitting sneakers began to cause blisters, adding to my discomfort. Amidst this footwear battle, my boss bestowed a wry smile
and remarked, “If you aim to join the national team, you must possess the courage to climb barefoot.”
His countenance betrayed a hint of scepticism. He already knew that I would not be able to endure such a feat. Instantly, I asserted, “I can.”
We had previously discussed my aspirations for the national team, and it seemed he was aware of my
intentions. His personal motto was “Born today, die today,” embodying a profound understanding of what true effort entailed. Through relentless exertion, he had achieved what many would deem success.
Thus, it was only natural for him to test me.
As I continued my arduous trek barefoot for hours on end, my boss’s expression revealed a mix of concern and terror, yet he remained silent. Eventually, I heard my female colleague cautioning me,
“Honga! You could lose your toes. Please put your shoes back on!” My feet were bleeding, cut, and
swollen, yet I felt a sense of triumph, radiating a smile brighter than anyone else on this planet.
In my early twenties, I was an ordinary young woman, attending night college to study industrial
management while working full-time. On weekends, I toiled all day at a pizza restaurant, finding joy
even in the task of cleaning the restroom at day’s end. It was because I harboured hope that I could become something more, or rather, I would shape myself into something great. This moment, for which I had waited tirelessly for years, was the epitome of what I sought—a test of my abilities, a battle worth fighting, and the key to realizing my true potential.
After several hours, we settled in a humble mountain dwelling for lunch. My male colleague had
prepared food for everyone, burdened by the weight of carrying it all. We gathered small branches, albeit damp, and my boss skilfully kindled a fire. We sat around the fire, and my boss gazed into the dancing flames, softly uttering, “That will suffice. Put your shoes back on.”
I refused. I did not want to. We shared a hearty meal of 라면 (lamyeon: spicey Korean noodle), the best companion on a wintry mountain, adding a boiled egg, a small portion of rice, and kimchi to the steaming noodles. The steam enveloped my face, warming me from within, while the fire’s smoke
caused occasional discomfort in my breathing. Nevertheless, both sensations brought solace to my
weary body. It was a moment of bliss.
At last, I reached the summit of Surak Mountain. Closing my eyes, I gathered all my strength and
whispered a prayer, “God, I aspire to join the Korean national team. With your presence, I know I can
achieve it.” Opening my eyes, I surveyed the natural landscape from the mountain’s peak, feeling
transformed in that very instant. I affirmed to myself, “I will become a member of the Korean national
team. I can do it because I am Cho, Hyun Hong (Honga).”
Our descent commenced, and for several more hours, heavy snowfall graced the deep mountains. It was a gracious blessing, an experience I wished upon everyone to comprehend its ethereal beauty. At that
moment, thoughts of my mother emerged, for she would always say when she witnessed snowflakes cascading gently from the sky, “Blessings are descending.” And so, I contemplated, “Could this be a
heavenly promise of blessings bestowed upon me?”
Throughout that entire day, climbing up and down the wintry mountain with bare feet, I triumphed over my boss’s test—a test that could have been devised by God or myself. Boarding the bus to return, my boss handed me a tissue to wipe away the blood and grime. Again, no words were exchanged between us. I quietly commenced the ritual of tenderly tending to my battered feet, revelling in a resplendent
triumph.
#dream #kendo #martialarts #challenge #sports #life #women #belief
Prologue
Where is my designated spot of victory?
My heart raced, causing my breath to quicken. Aching sensations pulsed throughout my entire body as I treaded barefoot. My feet, torn and wounded, endured excruciating pain. Surak Mountain stood before me, its surface adorned with countless small, frozen stones. Each step upon these icy pebbles pierced
my bare soles, evoking a sensation akin to thorns pricking my skin. Goosebumps erupted all over me with every stride, amplifying the agony I endured. Hours had already elapsed, and my feet now bled
profusely, necessitating periodic respite to cleanse them in the snow.
Arriving at work that day, I realized with dismay that everyone was dressed in hiking attire. In my
hectic state, preoccupied with kendo, I had forgotten that we were embarking on a mountain expedition together. My boss glanced at me and declared, “You’ll be staying at the office.” Pleadingly, I implored,
“I’ll manage.” He cast a silent gaze upon me and proceeded ahead. I continued to beseech and trailed
behind the group until one of my female colleagues suggested, “Would you like to borrow my shoes? I
have an extra pair of trainers in my car.” Her audacious proposal incited fierce glares from the others.
She was considerably smaller in size than I. Hastily, I exclaimed, “Yes! Yes! What a brilliant idea.
Thank you so much.” Though I struggled to fit my feet into her sneakers, my boss glanced at me once more, and somehow, I managed to squeeze them in. He remained silent, granting me a stroke of fortune.
I trailed silently behind the group, but even before reaching the mountain, the ill-fitting sneakers began to cause blisters, adding to my discomfort. Amidst this footwear battle, my boss bestowed a wry smile
and remarked, “If you aim to join the national team, you must possess the courage to climb barefoot.”
His countenance betrayed a hint of scepticism. He already knew that I would not be able to endure such a feat. Instantly, I asserted, “I can.”
We had previously discussed my aspirations for the national team, and it seemed he was aware of my
intentions. His personal motto was “Born today, die today,” embodying a profound understanding of what true effort entailed. Through relentless exertion, he had achieved what many would deem success.
Thus, it was only natural for him to test me.
As I continued my arduous trek barefoot for hours on end, my boss’s expression revealed a mix of concern and terror, yet he remained silent. Eventually, I heard my female colleague cautioning me,
“Honga! You could lose your toes. Please put your shoes back on!” My feet were bleeding, cut, and
swollen, yet I felt a sense of triumph, radiating a smile brighter than anyone else on this planet.
In my early twenties, I was an ordinary young woman, attending night college to study industrial
management while working full-time. On weekends, I toiled all day at a pizza restaurant, finding joy
even in the task of cleaning the restroom at day’s end. It was because I harboured hope that I could become something more, or rather, I would shape myself into something great. This moment, for which I had waited tirelessly for years, was the epitome of what I sought—a test of my abilities, a battle worth fighting, and the key to realizing my true potential.
After several hours, we settled in a humble mountain dwelling for lunch. My male colleague had
prepared food for everyone, burdened by the weight of carrying it all. We gathered small branches, albeit damp, and my boss skilfully kindled a fire. We sat around the fire, and my boss gazed into the dancing flames, softly uttering, “That will suffice. Put your shoes back on.”
I refused. I did not want to. We shared a hearty meal of 라면 (lamyeon: spicey Korean noodle), the best companion on a wintry mountain, adding a boiled egg, a small portion of rice, and kimchi to the steaming noodles. The steam enveloped my face, warming me from within, while the fire’s smoke
caused occasional discomfort in my breathing. Nevertheless, both sensations brought solace to my
weary body. It was a moment of bliss.
At last, I reached the summit of Surak Mountain. Closing my eyes, I gathered all my strength and
whispered a prayer, “God, I aspire to join the Korean national team. With your presence, I know I can
achieve it.” Opening my eyes, I surveyed the natural landscape from the mountain’s peak, feeling
transformed in that very instant. I affirmed to myself, “I will become a member of the Korean national
team. I can do it because I am Cho, Hyun Hong (Honga).”
Our descent commenced, and for several more hours, heavy snowfall graced the deep mountains. It was a gracious blessing, an experience I wished upon everyone to comprehend its ethereal beauty. At that
moment, thoughts of my mother emerged, for she would always say when she witnessed snowflakes cascading gently from the sky, “Blessings are descending.” And so, I contemplated, “Could this be a
heavenly promise of blessings bestowed upon me?”
Throughout that entire day, climbing up and down the wintry mountain with bare feet, I triumphed over my boss’s test—a test that could have been devised by God or myself. Boarding the bus to return, my boss handed me a tissue to wipe away the blood and grime. Again, no words were exchanged between us. I quietly commenced the ritual of tenderly tending to my battered feet, revelling in a resplendent
triumph.