Taryn Manning

Once upon a time, the Arizona state karate champion was basically untouchable—at least, that's what the local rumor mill says. Stories about this person still float around gyms and high school cafeterias, you know? Not every day you run into someone who can take down an opponent with a spinning back kick and still have time to grab a burger afterward. People love to hype up that championship match, how the crowd went nuts, coaches yelling, sweat flying, the whole thing feeling bigger than life. Winning in Arizona’s no joke either, since the competition’s stacked with folks who train like it’s the Olympics. Rumor has it, this champion didn’t just win—they dominated. Some say it’s all natural talent, others swear it was hours and hours of brutal practice. Either way, the legend lives on. Even now, you’ll hear people drop their name like it’s some kind of secret password in the world of martial arts.

Every now and then, I’ll hit up the Buddhist center and just lose myself in the chanting. There’s something about getting swept up in those vibrations—it kind of wipes the slate clean in my head, you know? All the static just fades out for a while. It’s almost like someone dialed down the stress meter, and suddenly I feel lighter, almost floating. And after that whole tozo thing? It’s wild, but I walk out feeling like I’ve got this secret weapon against worry. All the stuff I usually can’t stop spinning about… just doesn’t seem worth the trouble. I don’t need to have my hands on the controls all the time, and honestly, it’s a relief. That little slice of peace, it sticks with me, and I end up handling uncertainty a whole lot better than before.