Category: Martial Arts

“Where Have You Been?”

Karate is a strange creature. For the most part, people tend to come and go in weird intervals throughout the calendar year. And they can hardly be blamed. Sometimes life just gets in their bloody way and there’s nothing we can do about it. I know that for myself, I’ve had work and familial obligations that have often prevented me from attending class. I’ve often had a particular instructor ask me, almost every time he’s seen me, “Where have you been?”

This is a question that has grated on my nerves, regardless of the source, for over thirty years. For the most part, I tend to get a workout in about four to six times a week, depending on appointments, work and other life obligations that seem to slither their way into my personal schedule. But the point is that my fitness and my karate are engrained into my weekly routine, in such a way that surpasses the two classes a week that I attend.

But every once in a while, these absences will be noticed by an instructor or someone else and they always seem to consider it necessary to ask why I’ve missed the classes I was absent for. Needless to say, this is a bad idea for any student, especially beginners.

Karate (or any martial arts) is a lifetime commitment. I know guys who only studied the Way for a few months and still retain some of their lessons and apply them to their everyday lives. The overall effect martial arts can have on someone is measurable, but the emotional effect it can occasionally have on one’s life is palpable…

I’ve had times in my youth when I missed a number of classes. Either because I was exhausted, sick or just plain didn’t feel like coming out. I would often scuttle my way back into class and feel ashamed at my lapse in discipline and hoping that no one would take notice. One of the benefits of being a white belt or junior grade, is you tend NOT to stand out when you’re at the back of the class.

But as far as those periods when I didn’t FEEL like training… Imagine if I was berated and pestered about my absence back then? This might have led to my departure from class for a longer period of time. But instead, my absences were considered a time of reflection and I was always welcomed back.

In my current school, I have a particular instructor who seems to make it his business to point out and ask about any absence I may have. He does this to most students, but if I’m being honest I consider myself to have a bit of a louder voice than most.

“Where do you think I’ve been…?” I usually ask. I point out that in the period where I haven’t been to class, I’ve usually managed to work out three times, which is one workout more than the scheduled classes I have with my current dojo.

This is one of those times when it’s more important to focus on the why and not the what. We all have times when we lapse in our attendance and skip a few classes. There’s nothing wrong with that, inherently. The important part is that you go back. And if you happen to be a senior belt or instructor, do both yourselves a favour and don’t poke the beast! Take your student’s absence in stride and teach them accordingly! ☯

There’s No Crying While Meditating…

You know, there’s a reason why monks prefer to live out their lives within the walls of a monastery. Sure, some of them do it as part of a vow of silence, some do it because they prefer to live a simplistic life of minimalism.

Living a monastic life has some measurable benefits when it comes to meditation. For the most part, monks have an easier (notice I said “easier”, not “easy”) time finding harmony and inner peace, thanks to the quiet and serenity that comes with living within the boundaries of a monastery. Although finding one’s balance and harmony is possible even when one does not live within a monastery, there’s a hiccup to modern life that the monks likely didn’t anticipate: kids!

Picture this, if you will… You settle into a comfortable position, perhaps cross-legged, perhaps sitting on your knees. You close your eyes and start taking several deep, steadying breaths. Maybe you even have a bit of relaxation music playing in the background. As you feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into your meditation, you feel a shift in the air. A disturbance in the Force, if you will! You have your suspicions about this disturbance, but you continue to concentrate and focus on your breathing.

Then it happens: you feel a light, nasal breathing against your face, followed by a soft whisper, “Daddy?” This is accompanied by the typically expected poke of a small, bony finger; perhaps against my cheek and if I’m a real winner in tonight’s story, perhaps against the eyelid. “Daddy, you’re a statue…”

You try your best to stay focused and concentrate, hoping that your first-born will take a hint at your lack of a response and back the hell away. But of course, my offspring is stubborn and tenacious and refuses to surrender. Especially when faced with the mystery of what daddy is doing (I have no idea where he gets THAT from!) He’s fascinated at what his father is doing and wants some answers.

Just then, salvation comes in the form of my wife who steps into the basement and softly whispers that Daddy is meditating and that he should leave me alone. The boy responds, “Daddy’s not meditating, he’s a statue!” My wife agrees that it’s fine, I’m a statue but to leave me alone nonetheless.

Just then, my infant son who was until this point quietly cradled in my wife’s arms, decides to burst out with a mighty wail equivalent to someone getting their family jewels stomped during a mosh pit. This effectively dissolves my focus with the imaginary sound of a shattered pane of glass.

Meditating is already something that requires a deep level of focus and practice. It takes time to find your groove, become comfortable with what your doing and get to a point where it provides you with any sort of noticeable benefit. So learning, practicing and becoming proficient is all the more challenging when attempted in a modern family setting.

Eventually my son may come to learn and understand what I’m doing and respect the need for a few moments of silence. In the meantime, be sure to find time for yourself in order to search for harmony and inner balance. As the skills develop, it will become easier even WITH all the “little distractions” that come with life. ☯

Doing It Wrong Ruins It For The Bunch…

For the past two centuries or so, many instructors of the martial arts have made a go of teaching their art as a career. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, so long as you do it properly. Realistically, as soon as you start teaching something that you’ve spent a lifetime mastering, you’ve established yourself as a professional in that field. And any professional who teaches their trade should be compensated. Makes sense, right?

The unfortunate reality is that some of these “professionals” are anything but, and they continue to teach something that can only be described as a watered down version of the pure styles that the founders intended. This has prompted the trend known as the “McDojo”.

For those who may not be familiar, a “McDojo” is a school of martial arts that teaches a watered down version of their style and provides no genuine skills training. They often focus more on profit and student retention than the proper education of their students. McDojos can be dangerous because they instil a sense of confidence based on skills that may or may not exist within the school.

With my own karate classes starting back up after the holidays, my thoughts have been dwelling on some of the dojos I’ve visited over the decades and how they’ve presented themselves. And believe me, I’ve visited a LOT of them. Some people will tell you that style isn’t important. It is and it isn’t, as some styles will work for some but not for others. When choosing a dojo to train with, it can be difficult to identify a McDojo if you’ve never dealt with them My goal is to provide some “tips” on what to look for. Here we go:

  1. They have children as instructors: This is a problem, because it is IMPOSSIBLE to achieve a black belt in less than ten years. The amount of knowledge, skill and training required in order to reach black belt level in ANY traditional style takes years to accumulate. That means that even if you started karate at the age of 4, you would be into your teen years before the color black even comes close to adorning your uniform. I think someone described it best when they said to think about a medical doctor. Would you want to be treated by a doctor who graduated after two years as opposed to 7 to 9 years? Obviously not. The same goes for black belts;
  2. They don’t fight: Look, you can be as peaceful and serene as you want to be but the truth is that the martial arts are “fighting” arts and you can’t learn properly if you don’t fight. And there can’t be any rules. When I grew up, our sparring involved an “anything goes” mentality. We obviously avoided striking each other’s groin for the obvious reasons, but strikes to the head, throws, pressure points and any strikes you could think of were incorporated. It’s comparable to becoming a great painter; how can you become an artist if you never intend to use a brush? The only true way to measure your skill is by exercising it in actual fighting;
  3. They cost a fortune: Tuition fees, uniform and equipment purchases (which HAVE to be through the dojo) various “suspicious” costs, such as registration fees, club fees and such can all be indicators that you may be in the wrong place. When instructors focus on ensuring that you’re paying your monthly dues and each belt test has a cost for the test, the belt, the certificate and “registering” your rank with the style, there’s definitely a problem. I started karate in 1988. I started paying a fixed monthly tuition and in 30 years, it has never increased. I never paid for a belt test and in fact, my instructor always gifted each colored belt to me. Although this is the extreme, it is also a standard that other schools should follow:
  4. They don’t adhere to a structured system: This means that either they teach a Chinese style but use a Japanese belt system, or have weird patches and crests all over their uniforms or have belts that don’t exist in the martial arts (such as pink or camouflage belts);
  5. They have “masters” or “grandmasters” in their school below the age of 50: This is a difficult one, because it isn’t so much that it’s IMPOSSIBLE as it is unlikely. Attaining these ranks takes decades, and the general age that one reaches them is pretty consistent. I was raised on a system where the title of “Master” is provided to someone who has achieved a rank of 5th degree black belt or higher. But when you get someone who is reasonably young and has already achieved this rank, there’s a good chance it’s a self-promotion for the image of the school as opposed to actual rank;
  6. The information is lacking or seems “sketchy”: An instructor should be able to recount the history of his/her style. How else can you teach the style if you don’t know where it came from? If an instructor is unable to provide you with basic background of where they trained and what the history of their style is, there’s a problem.

There’s a lot involved in choosing and training with a martial arts school. The reality is that you’re going to sweat, you’re going to cry, there will be pain and you’ll likely want to quit as often as not. THAT’S the reality of training with a genuine martial arts school. It’s a life-long commitment and it will take decades to reach a significant level. And it shouldn’t require a second mortgage or your first-born to do it.

At the end of the day, I’m in my 40’s and I’ve been doing karate (as well as some other martial arts) for over 30 years. I still don’t have the title of “Master” in front of my name and maybe I never will. But my skill has been acquired through decades of blood, sweat and tears. Such is the truth behind the way; if it were the simple way, a passing way, everyone would do it. ☯

I Don’t Care How You Spell It, Honor Is Important…

Honor is an important aspect of life and society. We hear a lot about it in the movies and in books, but we don’t always lend much thought to the prospect of honour within our own lives. Most people adhere to a system of honor without even realizing it. Maybe you were raised on a system of honor and you stick to it without acknowledging that this is what you’re doing.

Honor is a very fluid word, and holds a number of different definitions depending on the context. For the most part, it means sticking to what’s right or following a code of conduct. If you look at it as an action, it means to have great respect for something/someone or hold them in high esteem. it can also mean to fulfill a previously made agreement.

“Stand Up For What’s Right, Even If You Are Standing Alone!”

Suzy Kassem

For the most part, honor is mentioned and/or covered in great detail in many of the books I’ve read; the Hagakure, The Bubishi (Karate bible), The Art of War, Bushido’s Code and The Book of Five Rings, among many others. And those are just the “non-fiction” books. One of the main characters from my favourite book series, The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan, lives his existence based on a code of honor he sticks to quite fervently.

Depending on what system or style of martial art you’ve studied, aspects of honor is covered by a number of different rules; protect the weak, never attack the helpless, follow the rules, etc… Despite an inherent aspect of violence in the martial arts (kind of hard not to be when you’re training to punch and kick), there is also an inherent peace and discipline involved, which leads to a realized practice of politeness and gentleness. Some would call this “balance”.

Maintaining one’s honor is important; not only for yourself but for your family and the people close to you. And with that honor comes a level of irreproachable honesty that should be observed as well. ☯

A Reminder Of Respect…

I wrote a post about six months ago outlining the proper guidelines one should follow when attending ANY martial arts school. Some of these are simply a matter of tradition, some of them are necessary to ensure that a dojo runs smoothly. Some, mostly all of them, are also a show of respect for the school you’ve chosen to attend.

In recent months, I’ve had the opportunity to observe some students, visitors and outsiders in a few different martial arts circles. Based on some of the things I’ve observed, I think it would be useful for me to repost some of those guidelines. Here we go:

  1. Bow when entering or exiting the dojo: This seems like a bit of a tiny detail, but it is an important one. It provides a show of respect; respect towards the instructors, respect towards the ones who trained before you, and respect towards the school;
  2. Ensure your Gi, or karate uniform, is clean and pressed: This one is important not only for protocol and etiquette, but for hygiene reasons as well. And you would be surprised how many people overlook it. There’s nothing worse than someone who assumes that their last workout wasn’t intense enough to warrant laundering their uniform. Make sure it’s clean. Not only does that ensure a more “pleasant” environment for yourself and the other students, it shows proper respect for the uniform you wear on your journey;
  3. Stand straight and pay attention: When not executing a movement in the immediate moment, it is imperative that you stand straight and tall, heels together and thumbs tucked into the front of your belt. Keep your gaze towards the front and pay close attention to what the head instructor is saying. Try to avoid looking around and fidgeting. A big part of discipline is being able to focus long enough to build an attention span beyond that of a goldfish;
  4. Acknowledge every instruction given: Different styles will have different ways of doing this. Some will choose a shallow bow when the head instructor provides instruction, some will answer in the affirmative by saying Hai (Japanese for “yes”) or something of the like… The method of acknowledgment will depend on the style and school you’re in;
  5. No food or drink within the dojo: You would think this one would be common sense, but a martial arts school is no place for you to sip your mocha-choca latte while your kid trains. Since the average martial arts class only lasts about an hour and a half to two hours, you can manage this easily without having food and drink within the confines of a training environment;
  6. Get out of the way: If you become injured or over-tired, bow, step back and sit in seiza (on your knees) at the rear of the class. Stay out of the way and remove yourself from the flow of the class until your fatigue passes or your injury allows you to continue. Of course, if your injury is severe or serious enough to think you need to remove yourself, you likely shouldn’t continue as you could aggravate the injury further;
  7. Don’t show up late: This one is and always has been, a personal pet peeve of mine. Some instructors will say that if you show up late, it’s better to get “some of the workout” in rather than none at all. Although that is a great concept, showing up late can be disruptive to a class and shows great disrespect to your class and instructors. We all have busy lives. It falls to you to plan ahead and schedule things so that you may attend class. Whether or not showing up late is appropriate will be up to your head instructor, but true respect dictates that if you aren’t fifteen minutes early, you’re already late;
  8. Don’t waste your instructor’s time: Although you’ve likely paid a fee for your presence, the instructor(s) within the school are there to impart their knowledge and skills to you and others. If you aren’t going to put in your full effort, then you’re wasting your instructors time. Effectively, you’re also wasting your time AND the fee you paid. You’re also affecting the other student’s ability to learn properly. Food for thought…;
  9. Respect and train based on your partner: You will sometimes be paired with someone of lower or higher rank than yourself. If you’re paired with someone of lower rank, you become the example of what is to be taught. If you inflict injury upon your partner, you may discourage them from further learning and you will have gained nothing yourself. If training with someone of higher rank, respect should be given and you should take every advantage to learn from this person as they are in the same position you would be if training with a lower ranked belt.

Recently, I’ve seen everything from kids running around, coffee, students fidgeting and looking around… There was even one guy who showed up forty minutes late for class with a bag of cheeseburgers and ate while the rest of us did calisthenics! Besides the fact that the smell of burgers was killing me, a karate dojo is definitely NOT the place to eating, much less junk food.

Folks, no matter what sport or art you study, there will always be guidelines to follow. The martial arts simply has more, and that’s part of the charm. Although the above guidelines are only basic, they apply to any martial arts school you attend. Your specific dojo may have more, and this is one of those moments where it’s important to take the initiative and ask. After all, respect is a primary aspect of karate and all martial arts. ☯

The Burden Of Knowledge…

To teach is an interesting prospect. It requires a person to take the accumulated knowledge they’ve gained on any given subject and impart it on others in a way that is clearly and easily understood and absorbed. Since people aren’t exact copies of one another, this becomes all the more difficult when one considers that every person absorbs knowledge in a different way; some people listen, some people watch and some people must DO in order to learn. And I have dealt with them all…

Through the years, especially the past decade or so, I’ve had plenty of people ask me why I haven’t opened a school of karate. One of the biggest obstacles that I’ve faced is that my job usually has me moving to a different location every three to five years, which is definitely not conducive to the long-term teaching required for martial arts.

But the main reason, and the one that keeps me from slapping my style’s logo on a door is simply this: I just don’t want to. I should probably explain that statement. When a prospective student walks into the doors of any dojo, they take in the wonder and fascination that comes with watching a karate class. The students, garbed in crisp, white uniforms lined up facing the head instructor. The head instructor, or Sensei, providing the evening’s teaching in whatever form is required, be it calisthenics, forms, techniques or otherwise…

Meanwhile, what does the instructor get out of all of it? Yes, it’s important to acknowledge that learning and teaching go hand-in-hand in karate, no doubt about it. But teaching a class on any sort of permanent basis requires a certain level of loss that not all sensei are willing to pay.

If I take myself as an example, I have a certain amount of material that I need in order to pass my next grade of black belt. Now, I can train for probably about 90% of that required material by myself. But the remaining 10% usually requires a partner, specifically one who has the skill and technique to match what I’m trying to learn.

When I had opened my previous school, I would head to the dojo full of proverbial piss & vinegar, raring to go. Then I would face the dozen or so students who had attended class that night and begin our warm-up. As class progressed, my focus would always lean towards what the students required for their next grading or for the proper learning of the techniques. Sure, I’d enjoy myself and even get a good workout from the class (I could never do otherwise) but ultimately, my training and requirements came to a standstill.

And this is usually a common element of any instructor worth the belt around their waist. They put their own needs and requirements aside in favour of providing the best learning environment for the students. The students usually don’t recognize just how much of a commitment that actually becomes. I can even recall evenings where my own Sensei would only have three or four students and would openly ask what we wanted to work on that night. No matter what the answer, I would often hear a sigh and a far off look in his eyes, which I have no doubt was his recognition of the fact that he would be teaching and doing the same thing for what probably seemed like the umpteenth time, setting his own needs and wants for that matter, aside.

The only thing that ensures the survival of any martial art is to teach it to others. And most people who embark on that journey are genuinely interested in learning. But the commitment and sacrifice that happens is required from both sides: student and teacher. So, if you enjoy your training and consider it an important part of your life, thank your Sensei. He or she is giving more of themselves than you know.

As for me, the day may come when I’ll open the doors of my own dojo again. And when I do, I’ll show up and train my students with the same enthusiasm and commitment they require. No true student of the way would do anything less. ☯

Peace Or Power Through?

Life certainly has its share of difficulties and nothing is intended to be easy. As I’ve often said before, life doesn’t care about your plan. Given the various schools of thought that I study, I frequently find myself in conflict. What do you do when your faith conflicts with what you’re built to do?

I have often found that my faith tells me that I should pursue the most peaceful way possible, to follow the path of least resistance. I’m inclined to eliminate suffering as much as possible, if you will. And to be honest, this is the normal human condition, if you think about it.

As humans, we are biologically designed to take the easiest path to any result. Like the flowing of water, we tend to follow until we reach our lowest point. This isn’t always ideal, and can sometimes cause more issues than it solves.

Sensei has always told me that I shouldn’t force things so much, that I should go with the flow and allow life to guide me on the path I’m meant to take. Although the prospect of simply sitting back and allowing life to guide me along the lazy river, this isn’t the easiest thing to do when you have a home and a family to support and need to follow the expected requirements of modern life.

Meditation can often provide some clarity when trying to decide one’s path

The other side of the coin is that I was unfortunately raised as a fighter. I don’t give up and I never surrender, even when it causes me pain. If my life, my way of life, my family or my country are threatened, I won’t stop fighting until I win. For obvious reasons, this is also not always the best path.

It’s kind of ironic, because the same man who raised me to never stop fighting is also the same man telling me not to force things so much! That’s how things tend to get convoluted, when messages get confused and you don’t know which direction to take.

Ultimately, I don’t have an answer. If I did, I can promise that I wouldn’t be writing this post! No matter what path you choose to follow, life takes a lot of work. There’s no getting out of it. And when you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, it makes the journey take twice as long. ☯

Just Call Me “Teacher”

Over the decades, I’ve had the honour and pleasure of studying and training with a number of different martial arts and fighting styles. During these studies, I’ve taken note of some of the similarities and the difference between those styles. One of the important aspects is how to address the instructor of one’s respective martial arts style…

Depending on the background and what origin your martial art may have, the title given to the instructor may differ. Some styles may actually have no title for the lead instructor and may resort to something simple, such as “sir”. In this post, I will endeavour to cover the most common terms for martial arts instructors.

  • Sensei: Obviously, I’m going to start with mine! The term Sensei means “one who comes before” but literally translates as “teacher”. The term is used in most Japanese martial arts (such as karate, d-uh, Judo, JiuJutsu, Kendo, etc) and in SOME Chinese styles. The term Sensei can be used to address anyone qualified who teaches you a particular subject, and isn’t limited to the martial arts. For someone ranked at 5th Dan or higher, the instructor can be addressed by the title of “Master”. This is generally an honorific title and many instructors will choose to continue to be called “Sensei” regardless of what degree of black belt they hold;
  • Sifu: This is the term for an instructor in the Chinese styles of martial arts, most prominently Kung Fu. It can mean both “master” and “teacher” and in some circles can also be used to mean “spiritual father”. The problem with this term is that it can have different pronunciations depending on the art you’re studying;
  • TKD: TaeKwonDo is one of those complicated creatures, because they have so many different organizations, rules and denominations of the style, that they differ a great deal from one another. Depending on what TKD organization your school may fall under, terms such as “Boosabum”, “Sabum” and “Sahyun”. That being said, TKD is one of those schools where all the instructors I’ve ever met have been referred to as “Sir” (In Canada, at least);
  • Coach: This is a term used in most schools of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu schools, albeit some of them will use the term “Professor”, which is just an honorific. The term translates directly from the Brazilian term for “teacher”.

There are plenty more terms out there, but I’ve covered the most common ones: karate, kung fu, Tae Kwon Do and Jiu-Jitsu. Believe me when I say that there are many more styles and terms out there that may be different. The important thing, especially if you’ve just started a new style, is to ask. Don’t be afraid to ask how you should be addressing the instructor.

I still remember my first encounter with Sensei. We were doing kicking and punching drills, and I was confused on the exact step for one of the techniques we were studying. I tried getting Sensei’s attention for several minutes, until I finally yelled out, “Sir, I need your help…”

Sensei was good enough to wait and let me ask my question, then took the time to answer it. Then he asked “Got it?” I said yes and stepped back into line, at which point Sensei said, “Oh, and by the way… My name is Sensei and if you ever call me something different, you’ll owe me a hundred push-ups…” Then he walked away from me, leaving my jaw dropped wondering if he was kidding. He wasn’t. But that’s another story…

The point is, if someone has successfully opened a martial arts school and is successfully teaching, he or she has earned the respect to be addressed by the title their art entitles them to. So, be certain to be respectful and ask if you’re not sure and use the title once you are. After all, respect and discipline are practically synonymous with the martial arts.

FYI, it’s been 31 years and I’ve never had to pay out those hundred push-ups. Jus’ sayin’… ☯

In Teaching Others, We Teach Ourselves

I can’t recall where I read the proverb I used in my title, but it’s pretty accurate. If there’s an important lesson I’ve learned in almost four decades, it’s that we gain almost as much from teaching and passing on our knowledge as we do from obtaining it.

I’ve previously mentioned the martial arts ladder, and the importance of helping other students climb beyond you, once you’ve reached a certain level. Some “old school” martial arts teachers will often claim that it’s important to hold something back; keep that secret technique to yourself so that you always have a finishing move to fall back on. I was raised on a system of martial arts where the students have the potential to learn EVERYTHING the style has to offer.

Shintaro-san showing me some specifics of a kata
Okinawa – 2001

Humans are competitive by nature. There’s no getting around it. Something about “survival of the fittest”, and one of the aspects of that competitive nature is showing off your skills. Most people are inclined to show others what they’ve learned and showcase their skills. That’s why most sports are competitively displayed for spectators. Although some instincts are hard to fight, one can easily turn that competitive nature into an instinct to teach.

One of the best times of my martial arts career was when I had a school of my own, back in New Brunswick. It was a wonderful feeling, opening the class with all the students bowing to me and following my instruction. There was a deep feeling of satisfaction in knowing that these people were learning and progressing based on what I was teaching them. Seeing their progress taught me a great deal about how I was learning.

Leading a junior class in Sanchin, sometime in the early 1990’s

I was reminded of all this when I saw a Tai Chi group practicing in the open hallway of a local shopping mall this morning. The group was a bit on the smaller side, maybe more than a dozen. I don’t like using the term “elderly” but the group was a touch on the older side, and you could see that the person leading the group was deeply invested in coaching a guiding the people that were there.

I had to close my school in early 2009 as I had to move across country for my career. Since my job usually moves me around every few years, I’ve never had the stability to open another school. It wouldn’t be fair to any prospective students to start training with me, only to have me leave after a few years.

But it got me thinking about decades down the road, and wondering if perhaps eventually I’ll be teaching my own group once I retire and finally settle to a permanent home.

Learning any new skill is exciting and loads of fun. But should you ever have the opportunity to teach what you know to others, I highly recommend it. Like most thing in life, teaching has its difficulties but can offer great rewards and satisfaction. ☯

Accept The Knowledge, Or Get Out!

I don’t know how to do yoga. I know, shocking right? Can’t do it. I know it involves specific poses, stretches and stock ownership in LuluLemon apparel, but if you asked me to stand in front of a group of folks and try and teach them yoga, three things would happen: my pants would likely split from the attempt, all my joints would create a sound likely to frighten all those who hear it and last but not least… You wouldn’t learn yoga! Plus, picturing me doing downward dog is likely causing all the angels in heaven to simultaneously throw up…

Learning a new skill or art can be fun and exciting, but there are certain steps to acquiring that knowledge. If I walked into a yoga class today, I wouldn’t expect exclusive lessons and mentorship from the instructor. After all, he or she would have a classroom full of people to take care of. One would be inclined to assume that one would have to simply follow along and gleam what learning they can as they go along until they acquire the basics they need to start advancing. Some classes are like this. Another option is that you would perhaps need to accept coaching from someone not too far above your skill level. This is more likely.

And the case would be the same for the martial arts. If you walked into a karate class on your first night of training, you could hardly expect that the lead instructor would be the one showing you the basics. Maybe they would; it depends on the school you train in. But unless the school you’re starting with is overrun with black belts (in which case, you should run from that school as fast as possible and find a different one) the safe bet is that you’ll likely be learning from a junior belt, perhaps even a white belt. And not everyone is okay with that.

I’m reminded of a class from just a little over twenty-five years ago… I was stretching and shadow boxing, preparing for the gruelling two hours that awaited me. I was early, as usual, and I noticed a new guy in class. He was wearing a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, looking awkward against the backdrop of students in crisp, white karate uniforms.

Sensei walked up to me and introduced me to the new student (I honestly don’t remember his name. It’s been over twenty-five years, give me a break!) He asked me to show the new student our ten basic exercises and aiding movements as well as the opening of our first form. I gladly agreed and introduced myself as Sensei walked away.

I noticed that the new guy seemed a bit distracted as I spoke to him and I asked him what was wrong. The exchange went a little something like this:

ME: Is everything okay? You seem distracted…

New Guy: No, no, it’s fine. It’s just that… Shouldn’t I be learning this stuff from him? (points to Sensei)

ME: Well, Sensei usually takes the first fifteen minutes before class to stretch and has one of us teach basics to new students. Is that a problem?

New Guy: Honestly? No offence, but I didn’t join karate to learn from a white belt! I want to learn from a black belt… (walks away and starts stretching in imitation of what Sensei was doing)

Now in this guy’s defence, I WAS wearing a white belt! At the time, I had a white belt with a solid green bar, meaning I was ready to test for green belt. I was far from new and was more than capable of teaching what was asked of me. But from this guy’s perspective, I was a white belt and unfit to be showing him the ropes. Ah, that lovely perspective…

Once class was in full swing and we started doing the actual form I was supposed to show the new guy, his confused look and the fact he was looking around in a vain attempt to mimic the other students did NOT go unnoticed. Sensei stepped up behind him and asked what the problem was, since I had shown him these steps. The new student replied that I had shown him nothing.

Once we closed and students started filing out, Sensei approached me and asked what I had shown to the new student. “Nothing,” I replied. “He decided he didn’t want to learn from a white belt. Sensei shrugged and instructed that no one provide guidance to the new student until he asked for it.The guy attended another two or three classes then dropped out. Seems that karate isn’t all that easy to learn when you aren’t willing to listen.

Was it a harsh elimination of an unwanted student? Perhaps. But the lesson here is that if you truly wish to learn a new art or skill, you’ll take the knowledge from wherever you can. If that student had followed my guidance on the first night, he likely would have been able to follow along and progress. Instead, he allowed his preconceived notions about the belt around my waist to negate any possibility of his ever training in the martial arts. A great loss. For him, not for us.

Be willing to accept knowledge from whomever is willing to share it. Sometimes you may lose nothing. Sometimes you may lose a great deal. But unless you’re willing to accept it, you’ll never know. It’s like Sensei used to say, “You’ve got two ears and one mouth, so you should listen TWICE as much as you talk!” ☯