(In 2010 young Australian Jessica Watson was rightly feted for her<\/em> circumnavigation of the globe as a sixteen year old in her boat Ella\u2019s<\/em> Pink Lady. The following is the tale of another special young person<\/em> who set out on his own epic journey).<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The news cameras were not rolling. The photographers were not<\/em> to be seen. The journalists wrote no glowing accounts… no<\/em> jubilant, cheering crowds. No politicians to praise the effort or<\/em> bask in reflected glory. This young person\u2019s epic solo journey came to<\/em> an end in front of forty family, colleagues and friends.<\/em> Were there seemingly insurmountable barriers? Was there personal<\/em> risk and danger? Did the task require great fortitude and perseverance?<\/em> Did many question whether success was even achievable? Did the<\/em> young person rise up to reach for a long cherished dream? Yes to all.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

This journey was not one of months… it lasted seven and a half<\/em> years. The final hour was the most taxing and difficult.<\/em> At the end the young person addressed those present. This in itself<\/em> was a challenge because he can speak only in a handful of broken<\/em> words. Looking into the eyes of each person he nodded and said<\/em> \u201cMum… Thanks\u201d. \u201cDad, Jess, Jan\u201d. His voice broke, but he went on.<\/em> \u201cAmy, Geoff, Jo, Bruce\u2026 Thanks.\u201d People with Down Syndrome can be<\/em> difficult to understand at times but we all understood him. There was<\/em> not a dry eye that afternoon.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The colour of his dream was not pink. The colour of his dream<\/em> was black. A simple black cotton belt. That belt sat in a drawer in my<\/em> office for six years and every few months he would ask to see it. That<\/em> simple act would sustain him over the coming months as he trained,<\/em> and train he did. In the heat and in the cold. When he was tired and<\/em> when he was injured. At the end of class I would nod to confirm his<\/em> effort and sometimes he would say \u201cSoon… Me… Black belt. Same as you<\/em> Sensei\u201d and I would reply \u201cYes, Alex… Soon.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then his day arrived. Alex had studied and trained in the<\/em> demanding Koryu (traditional) martial system – the Shinto Muso<\/em> Ryu. Wielding in turn a sword and a four foot staff he had mastered<\/em> a long and complex series of movements, all performed to Japanese<\/em> commands. It can be fast and physical and there is little room for error.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alex was tested… He passed and his dream was realised. That simple<\/em> black belt was his.<\/em> So where did we find Alex that evening? Was he basking in his<\/em> success with friends and admirers? Relaxing now he had accomplished<\/em> his goal? No. Alex was in the Dojo again that night, black belt out of<\/em> sight beneath his hakama. Somewhere deep inside he had discovered<\/em> that journeys do not end. Effort does not stop. This is not something<\/em> Alex can tell you. He can only show you.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the night\u2019s end we sat beside each other and I asked him why<\/em> he had come. His reply… \u201cHelp you… Help people. Black belts… Help<\/em> people. Same as you now Sensei.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said \u201cYes, Alex. Same as me.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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