Copy of Roanoke Times Article – Monday, Dec. 12, 2005
Legacy of a master teacher
Gilian Corral
Corral, a resident of Southeast Roanoke, is director of Neighborhood Services for Blue Ridge Housing Development Corp.
The sign, “Aikido of Roanoke,” in clear, bold letters, was a beacon to my husband and me, new to the area and looking for a martial arts school. There it was, next to Sav-A-Lots in Southeast Roanoke, the strangest dojo I had ever seen.
The Sensei, or teacher, was wearing blue jeans under his gi top and black belt, and telling a story about a bar fight he broke up in a thick Southwest Virginian drawl. The “students” were a hodge-podge of folks more likely to be found at a gun show than a martial arts class. It was an unlikely place to learn much of anything, let alone a highly complex, spiritual Japanese martial art.
The students made no pretense of the usual formal customs, and used terms like “hamburger patty” to describe the techniques. Dan York, the Sensei, was more generous with long stories about anything other than Aikido fighting techniques. It was unstructured, strange, and offended every sense of propriety instilled by my former training.
Curiosity, mingled with suspicion, brought me back the next week. Suspicion turned to grudging acceptance as the Sensei took me under his wing. He was fiercely protective of students with physical problems, including me. He devised an entire version of his system for a woman who was paralyzed. I later learned that Dan had suffered a back injury and was himself paralyzed for almost a year. His experience led him to weave his art around his weaknesses.
Aikido of Roanoke, and Dan, were open to any sort of person. He saw it his personal mission to mentor the children who wandered in from the public housing complex down the road. Dan taught for free — just asked students who were able to pay dues to contribute to the rent and light bill. When the bills got too high, we packed up the mats and moved from place to place like Aikido nomads.
Dan often put his own money into the dojo, determined to keep those doors open to lost souls and Doubting Thomases like myself. As the weeks bled into years, I dropped my gi for jeans and a T-shirt, and my prejudices. Dan slowly chiseled away, bit by bit, focused on the potential only he could see behind our walls and layers. Although he never let me forget my vulnerabilities, he revealed unlikely strengths — and held me accountable for them. Before I knew it, I was training to be his assistant teacher for a women’s self-defense class.
Then, life threw a sucker punch. Sensei Dan York died suddenly Nov. 26, at age 49. In our shock, our little class banded together and cried, and tried to honor him the best we could in his passing.
As I reflected on his life, I stumbled upon these lessons learned from my Southwest Virginia Sensei during this strange and unlikely journey to enlightenment:
When confronted by an attack, use peaceful methods — humor, wit, charm. If these fail, throw him over a bar table. Incorporate a chair if available.
Keep your eyes open for the right time to strike, an opportunity to escape and the good in every human being.
Keep your head in the game.
Give your whole self. Every day.
For every action, mistake, day lived or wasted, a lesson can be learned.
Regret nothing.
It is tempting when you lose a parent or mentor to be angry at life for robbing you of their wisdom and kindness. I saw no anger on the faces of Dan’s students. In his great love for us, our teacher passed on lessons that would outlive him.
A Sensei passes wisdom onto his students. An O Sensei (Great Teacher) teaches his students to find wisdom in themselves.
O Sensei says, “I will not be there to defend you when the attack comes. So watch for it. Do not fear it. Trust yourself to react. You are stronger, faster, smarter than you know.”
Dan saw it in me. Now I see it, too. Arigato, O Sensei. Thanks, Dan. We’ll take it from here.