Category: Fitness & Well Being

Roughly 99% of people who walk into a dojo to join a style is doing so for the very first time. That is to say, they’ve never done martial arts before. And no, before y’all get snippy, I’m not saying that’s an actual statistic, it’s just my observations over decades of training in several dojos. One of the biggest challenges the new students face is the fact that they walk in, knowing nothing. This can leave them anxious, awkward and shy, which can make the learning experience harder and occasionally embarrassing. What sometimes makes things harder, is when you have a new student who thinks they know everything. That just makes things harder on the current students and can even be disruptive to the class in general.

The concept of learning in traditional martial arts will usually involve learning from someone who ISN’T the Sensei… As odd as this may sound, one needs to recognize that there are usually several students and only one Sensei, meaning that he or she may not necessarily have the time to spend with every student, even on their first day. This means that assistant instructors and even junior belts may be charged with teaching new students their basics on the first day. And this doesn’t sit well with everybody, especially those who think they already know better and feel they’re entitled to the Sensei’s attention. And as we all know, entitlement is currently the spice of society…

I remember an experience from years ago, when I was still back home in New Brunswick. Sensei had a policy that when a new student stepped into the dojo, one of the junior belts would show them the basic exercises and opening of our first kata, so that they would be able to keep up during their initial classes. This would usually involve fifteen minutes of kicks, punches and the opening of Sanchin, which is the first (and last) kata we learn in my style. this can be important and prevents the embarrassment of a new student standing there watching as the rest of the class engages in something they aren’t familiar with. There can be some of that even IF they get that initial show ‘n tell but at least it’s mitigated, somewhat.

I remember this one time, a large, muscled, athletic-looking guy came into the dojo. one of the first things he mentioned while introducing himself was that he was a hockey player and weightlifter. Although it isn’t completely unexpected that someone athletic would expect to be able to catch on to something athletic quicker than the average person, it would be a grave error in judgement to try and assume you know better than others who have been doing the art for years. Apparently, my turn had come around as Sensei asked me to show this individual the basics before his first class. I was comfortable with my level of skill and had no issues in showing the basics to someone else. I was motivated and pleased to be helping someone out.

I walked up to the guy and introduced myself. He was pleasant enough during the introduction. That is, until I explained that Sensei had asked me to show him the basics. He glanced down at my belt and saw that it was white. granted, my belt had a green bar on it, which in adult grading, is only one level prior to testing for green belt. But to his credit, this guy wouldn’t have known that. he held up his hands in a placating gesture and said, “no offence.” I don’t know about you, but experience has taught me that whenever someone says “no offence,” they’re about to say something that will likely offend.

He explained that he didn’t feel it was appropriate for a beginner to be teaching him and wanted to wait for Sensei. I responded that although I understood that perspective, Sensei usually used the 15-20 minutes before class to stretch and counted on the junior belts to show new students the basics. he said “no thanks,” walked away and began stretching in imitation of Sensei. When class began, the new student was completely lost. He gave it his best try and followed along with the class as best he could. Sensei noticed his struggle and the fact that he appeared not to know the basics and asked what I had shown him. he told Sensei I had shown him nothing.

The class carried on and Sensei came to talk to me about it after class let out. I explained what had happened and what had been said. He instructed us not to provide guidance or instruction to the new student unless he came and asked for it. Which he didn’t. Ever. The guy showed up for a couple more classes and then we never saw him again. Some say that was a harsh approach but the reality is that it was karate, not a fuckin’ knitting class. Besides, if you’re told something needs to happen a certain way in order to learn properly, one would assume that you should give the benefit of the doubt and do it. This guy chose to struggle and go against the flow before realizing he wouldn’t catch on. Be like water, dude!

Of course, had he stuck it out, he would have eventually caught on, received correction and started learning. But that was his choice. Martial arts is like a ladder. The students above need to help bring up the students below, in the hopes they’ll someday be above and help those who helped them. That being said, the one below needs to be willing to receive that help in climbing to the next rung on the ladder. Otherwise, they’ll always find themselves watching from below, while others continue to climb the martial arts ladder. This is something important to bear in mind, whether you’re currently a student of the Way or someone new contemplating joining a dojo. ☯️

I’ve been doing martial for well over thirty years now. In fact, I’ve reached the point where I’ve somewhat forgotten EXACTLY when I started, which makes it difficult to put a firm number on the years I’ve been a practitioner. If I go from memory, I’m pretty confident I started karate when I was ten years old, which means I’ve been practicing for thirty-five years this Spring. on the other hand, the year 1990 sticks out in my head for some reason, which would make it only thirty-three years. Not much of a difference and the only way I could confirm would be to see my original registration form, which Sensei would have back in new Brunswick. Fat chance of that, even if he should happen to still have it.

Even though my focus over those decades has been Uechi-Ryu Okinawan karate, I’ve dipped my toes in the proverbial pool and tried out a few different things in my time. If I had to put a number on it, I’ve trained in at least seven or eight styles, with some of them involving arts that don’t involve empty-hand fighting. When you ask the average person what they know about karate, they’ll usually point out the punching and the kicking, with rarely a mention of weapons. Which makes sense, if you look at the literal translation of karate. But it might surprise some to know that the average karateka usually WILL train with weapons at some point…

Outside of Uechi Ryu, I’ve trained in Kobudo, Kendo and Iaido. The first was because Kobudo goes very much hand-in-hand (pun intended) with karate and owes its roots to Okinawa. The last two, I got into because my parents were kind enough to buy me a wakizashi when I was younger and I wanted to learn how to use it, as opposed to leaving it in my closet. Most people are familiar with Kendo, given the use of the armour and grilled helmets you see when they square off, combined with the bamboo sword known as a shinai. Iaido is a bit of a different, still focused on the sword, that trains the practitioner to draw and execute techniques quickly, with a focus on situational and environmental awareness. It focuses on speed and accuracy.

Although everyone’s martial experience will differ based on their wants, needs and expectations, I chose to pick up a weapon because I knew that the day could potentially come when I would face an armed opponent and it’s never a good idea to do that empty-handed. I mean, if someone came at me with a sword and I had nowhere to go, what the hell am I supposed to do??? That bullshit that you see in movies where the person “catches” the sword between their palms is total bullshit. A properly honed sword, moving at a speed intended to kill, would slip past a defender’s palms with ease. And even if all the stars aligned and the defender managed to stem the sword’s approach, a skilled practitioner of the sword need only adjust the forward angle by a couple of degrees in order to cleave the defender’s hand off at the wrist. Assuming the sword is properly sharpened, of course. But I digress…

It paints a bit of a bleak picture but it’s a realistic one, which most people don’t usually adopt. What I like about Kendo and Iaido, is that the teachings allow me to apply techniques without necessarily holding a sword. If I find myself against someone with a weapon, I can adequately defend myself using a length of broomstick, a baseball bat or a random stick on the ground. It’s a better prospect than facing off against an armed opponent, empty-handed. Kobudo, for me, has its place but has been less useful throughout the years. After all, you won’t find most weapons associated with the art easily. Nunchucks are illegal in Canada, finding properly-weighed kamas is unlikely and walking around with a pair of sai on the streets is cumbersome and not recommended. The bo or staff is effective training as it falls under that same umbrella as sword training. I still own the last two, but seldom do I ever get to effectively train with them.

But let’s get into the meat of the post, which for those of you who frequently read my stuff, already know that I’m going to cover some of the positive and the negative aspects. And there are some of both, with weapons training. The positives are pretty obvious and I’ve already mentioned them; additional techniques, ability to defend against an armed opponent and the overall ability to actually USE the weapons you’ve trained with. By virtue of that, one would ask what possible negatives there could be. The biggest and most concerning is one that most people don’t consider, going into a confrontation: you could be disarmed. The problem with that is it opens the possibility of your chosen weapon falling into your opponent’s hands and being used against you. Not so ideal, if you train with a bladed weapon.

The second is more of a personal dislike but it ties up one or both of your hands. In karate, we use a variety of techniques that involve the open hand and grappling. If you’re using weapons that include both hands, like kama, sai, tonfa and even the bo, both your hands are tied up with your weapon and the ability to isolate and grip your opponent is lost. As I said, this is a personal dislike, since my karate style involves getting in close to one’s opponent an often involves gripping the gi, clothing, hair or other parts of your opponent so you can deliver the blow without them backing away or dodging. The last disadvantage I’ll point out, although I’m sure there are more, is the fact that training in some of these weapons styles may alter and change one’s stances and overall techniques they use in their home style. That can be detrimental to your advancement and progress.

All in all, training and familiarizing yourself with weapons is a positive thing. It’s a good addition to one’s martial arts toolbox and can be useful in certain situations. The same rules apply, when searching for a weapons school to train with. Make sure the style suits your wants, needs and expectations and be wary of the McDojo aspects I’ve written about so many times before. If a teacher is trying to sell you on joining by twirling a staff above their head, you should probably walk out. That theatrical shit has no use in the streets and may look cool but will likely get you hurt, more than anything else. Food for thought… ☯️

Having children can be a wonderful experience, for the most part. On the one hand, you get to see a tiny version of yourself grow and develop into their own person, with their own interests, hobbies and personality. On the other hand, it can be extremely frustrating, especially when you see them doing things you know could be done better or you recognize that there are certain things that you should teach them that they simply don’t want to learn. This can have a measurable effect, both on each of you as well as on the relationship as a whole.

I grew up with an intense craving for martial arts training. Like most kids my age, I was taken with action movies and the prospect of learning how to fight. As I was the victim of bullying throughout my formative years AND I had an immune disorder that was snaking my childhood hell (Type-1 Diabetes, if you hadn’t guessed), karate was a good fit for me. But it didn’t come without some searching, trying and experimenting with different schools and styles. It wasn’t until I found Uechi Ryu that I developed the deep love for karate that I still have to this day, or managed to control my ADHD and Diabetes, none of which I believe would have been as effectively accomplished as it was due to karate.

That’s why, when my wife gave birth to our son in 2014, I started seeing down a narrow tunnel into the future, one that allowed em to see the potential of passing on my skills and teachings to the next generation who would carry Uechi Ryu into the future. As Nathan learned how to walk and run, he began emulating movements that he’d see me do, which included kicking, punching and a variety of karate movements that he wouldn’t learn otherwise. The future looked bright, indeed.

When I was younger and training full time, I got to see the results of a parent forcing their child through karate. Sensei’s son, who happened to be one of my closest friends growing up, was Sensei’s only son and first black belt graduate. In “old school” martial arts circles, that’s a big deal. Sensei wanted his son, not only to be skilled but to be the best student he had. The only problem with that is that his son didn’t want it. He didn’t hunger for it. He saw no reason to pursue it. But he was pushed through it until he managed to reach Shodan, after which time he allowed his training to falter.

Oh, he’s returned to it on occasion. One can’t train for as long and as intensively as he had without it leaving some sort of impression. But having been forced to study karate for so many years left an impression on him that never went away. Nowadays, despite having three children of his own, his karate training is all but gone. This is one of the reasons why I pledged never to force my children to learn karate. If the time came that they wanted to train, I would be there for them. In the meantime, I would continue to let them see me train, take it all in and make the decision for themselves.

That’s why recently, I heard the most wonderful words a Sensei could hear from their first-born son: “Dad, I wan’t to learn karate…” I was ecstatic! I made plans. I brought in old equipment from the garage I hadn’t touched in years. I monitored my blood sugars closely so that I could ensure I could train for an hour without needing to stop. I told my wife about it. I told my work colleagues about. Suddenly, I saw the potential for my son and his own ADHD that I hadn’t contemplated before and recognized it would be something long-lasting that we could do together for years to come.

On the fateful day, which was only yesterday, I got home from work, full of piss and vinegar. I dropped my bags at the door, briefly greeted my wife then looked at Nathan and said, “Tonight, we start training in karate.” I wasn’t prepared for the bursting of my proverbial bubble that came next; “Nah, I don’t wanna…” I was floored. He had been hounding me to learn karate for the past month and now that the opportunity presented itself, he wanted nothing to do with it. I did my best to try and understand why he had suddenly changed his mind or his reluctance but, like most children, all he would say is that he had changed his mind.

I made my way downstairs and trained on my own, with a brief visit from my wife for a short sparring session. It was nearly impossible, hiding my disappointment. The worst part was recognizing that I seemed to be looking forward to it more than he was. I‘ve come to recognize in recent years that I have more years behind me than I do in front. The amount of time I have to impart whatever I’ve learned to my children grows shorter with every passing day and my hope is that Nathan will see me work out just once, where he’ll decide to jump in. In the meantime, I have to be patient. I don’t want to be that parent that forces their child into something like this. Because I want him to retain and carry it for his entire life and allow it to guide him. Such things won’t be possible if it feels like a chore. ☯️