Mistakes are Mirrors

One month into training, Mina’s progress felt stagnant. In the quiet of the dojo, she practiced alone, her hands and feet moving through forms Jiro had taught her. The orb hovered nearby, watching.

“You’re tense,” Jiro said from across the room, his voice cutting through the silence.

Mina froze mid-motion, her shoulders tight. “I just… don’t want to mess up.”

Jiro approached, his movements unhurried. “Mistakes are mirrors. They show us where we are out of balance. Watch.”

He gestured to the orb, which floated closer, its light uncertain. “It mirrors you, Mina. If you’re tense, it’s tense. If you’re afraid, it’s afraid.”

Mina glanced at the orb. “But it’s supposed to help me, isn’t it?”

“Help comes from harmony, not control,” Jiro replied. “The orb reflects you because that’s how you learn. Try again, but this time, let yourself be wrong.”

Reluctantly, Mina resumed the form. Her movements were uneven, her steps hesitant. She stumbled, nearly falling, and felt a flush of embarrassment. But the orb stayed with her, its light dimming only slightly before stabilizing.

As she continued, she began to notice the orb’s responses. When she moved too quickly, it flickered. When she slowed and focused, it brightened. Gradually, her movements became smoother, her breath more even.

Jiro nodded. “Better. Now you’re listening—not just to the orb, but to yourself.”