This blog takes its name from a karate principle: filling
the void. When performed correctly, it looks like this:
•
Attacker:
mawashi‑geri
•
Defender:
shift into neko ashi dachi to evade and create space, redirecting
the kick with ashi uke into gedan uke
•
This movement opens the attacker’s back.
•
Defender: step
through the gap between the attacker’s legs, pulling the leg back into neko
ashi dachi to break their balance. Both hands extend past the
attacker’s body, then drive back to force them over the positioned leg.
Technically, it’s an O soto gari — a reaping throw.
Because of my slightly wonky eyesight and the fact that I’m
left‑handed but naturally adopt a right‑hand stance in anything confrontational
(cricket, martial arts, you name it), I often end up with unusual variations.
In practising this technique, I couldn’t understand why my uke looked so
confused. Instead of stepping through with my front leg, I grounded it and
stepped through with the back leg into shiko dachi, unbalancing them from
the opposite direction.
In other words, I performed the throw backwards — and it
still worked.
That tendency crops up in other parts of my life too. Every
so often I find myself in situations where I’m not entirely sure how I ended up
there.
One example was a job interview. The first stage was via
Teams, where I explained my medical issues and how they affect me. I was clear:
travelling can trigger stress, but complex, time‑critical work tasks do not. I
was invited to a second interview — the only candidate — at the company’s head
office on the far side of London. I made the journey, arrived on time, and felt
I handled the interview well.
A week later, they rejected me on the basis of the very
issues I had been upfront about.
To add insult to injury, the next day I received a call from
another recruiter — this time directly from the company — inviting me to apply
for the same role I had just been rejected for. I declined as
politely as I could, but my appetite for job hunting evaporated.
That rejection forced me to confront a much larger void: the
financial hole that would appear once my redundancy money ran out. Until late
September, I had hoped to secure a job before needing to deal with the benefits
system. After that interview, I could no longer avoid it. So I contacted
Citizens Advice and other agencies and began the paperwork.
Working through the benefits maze is almost as demoralising
as not having a job. It also clashes with the mindset needed to hunt for work.
So I made it my primary focus until completed, with job hunting temporarily
downgraded.
The process is tortuous. I would have reached the end
eventually, but without Citizens Advice it would have taken far longer. Three
months in, I think I finally have the last pieces of paperwork — but only the
New Year will confirm that.
Before this, the void created by unemployment was filled with
job hunting and returning to the dojo — both positive, forward‑moving
activities. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t frame benefits paperwork as
a positive. But karate helped fill the void in its own way.
During all this, I managed to grade once. My son settled into
college, graded twice, and now partly acts as my teacher. I’ve been learning
the next techniques for my own progression. The weekly routine, the family
time, and the slow re‑socialising after four years of near‑isolation due to
Covid have all helped.
So as 2026 approaches, I’m hoping to close out the last of
the benefits admin and turn my attention to more positive pathways — courses to
broaden my skills, opportunities that arise, and a determined approach to
whatever comes next. That includes sticking with my karate and, with time,
progressing further.
In the dojo, filling the void means stepping into
the space that opens when something unexpected happens. Life has thrown its
share of awkward angles and backwards stances at me this year, but the
principle still holds: step in, stay balanced, and keep moving forward.
Thank you for reading.
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