This post was written by Faye Lewis.
What a year 2025 was. (I’ll spare you the political commentary – that’s pub talk.) On a personal level, it was a year of ups, downs, breaks and breakfalls. Yes, I know, terrible Shorinji Kempo puns.
I kicked the year off full of energy and managed to get my green belt in March. After that, I threw myself into blue belt training, outside of class practicing twice a week with Tom in addition to our other classes. Tom discovered a deep love for bō staff practice and his enthusiasm somehow led to us piecing together the first tenchi ken bo staff kata’s from videos. Whether we did any of them correctly is an open question.
Meanwhile, life outside the dōjō decided to go full chaos mode. Redundancies at work, suddenly having to put my house on the market, and trying to complete a two-year Lightbody course on top of everything else. In short: an intense year. And that’s before we even get to the rug incident.
But honestly, Shorinji Kempo became the thing that kept me sane. It gave me somewhere to put my attention that wasn’t spreadsheets or estate agents. Turning up to class, learning terminology, trying to make incremental improvements, doing meditation and at times punching a pad really, really hard – all of it made me feel better physically and mentally.
Then came the moment of glory: two weeks before my blue belt grading in November, I tripped on a bloody rug and managed to fracture my 4th and 5th metatarsals and do a bit of ligament damage for good measure.
Nothing dramatic. No daring mid-air kick. Just me, a rug, an empty cup of coffee and gravity doing its thing. So I’ve spent the past month sat at home with my foot propped up, reading philosophy and trying to memorise pressure points. Or as sensei Nicki helpfully offers; someone utilising Ken Zen Ichinyo and training to their level– there’s always a teaching moment…
Weirdly, resting has been easier because of what Kempo’s already drilled into me: resilience, patience, and the whole “never give up” mindset. The mental discipline side of Kempo is very real – even if you’re sat on the sofa watching your foot slowly turn less purple. I tried to be helpful practicing with Tom testing him on all the footwork and the juho and goho before his orange belt grading and lots of people have been checking in on me which is very kind.
But it’s not just me who’s been getting something out of it. Millie said recently:
“I’ve only been training for a short time, but Shorinji Kempo has quickly become something I really value. The meditation, the technical practice, and the respectful environment make every session meaningful. I really love the reflections we do mid class and always learn something from them.”
Juan summed up the whole journey perfectly:
“I’ve come to see that I will never finish learning – and that, to me, is the best part.”
Juan can be quite sage-like at times.
But it’s the same, honestly. The more you learn, the more you realise you don’t know. It’s brilliant and infuriating in equal measure. Much like life!
Tom echoes the sentiment of what I said perfectly:
“Since starting the study of Shorinji Kempo I have started the study of my self. I have become more focussed along this journey which has taught me to slow down and that practice in whatever discipline will help you achieve your goal.”
One thing that stood out for me this year is how much the mental and physical side of Kempo are just… the same thing.
So while this year didn’t end the way I planned, I’m weirdly grateful for the forced pause. I’ll be back in mid-January, foot hopefully functioning like a foot again, picking up where I left off – probably still mispronouncing half the Japanese terms, but at least slightly closer to understanding some of the philosophy – and definitely more determined to get my blue belt in early March.
As Fuhai Shōju teaches us, “You must not lose; winning is secondary.”
For me, that’s been about not being defeated by injury and, more importantly, not giving up. Yes, some parts of training had to be put on pause. Yes, it felt like a huge blow to all the hours I’d put in – and honestly, it dented my ego more than a little. There’s a lesson in that too. But despite the initial disappointment, I don’t feel defeated. In fact, I’m proud of myself for keeping my chin up and staying focused on things I can control.
So here’s to another year of learning, growing, messing up, improving – and trying not to injure myself on household items!
