Category: Opinion

To Learn Is To Teach…

It’s safe to say that I’ve walked through the doors of more dojos than I can count throughout the course of my martial arts journey. Some before I joined Uechi Ryu and some after. But none were upset as memorable as when I walked into my Sensei’s dojo for the first time. For the most part, I was a rude, snot-nosed kid who used sarcasm and attitude t mask my own personal trauma, usually caused by my Diabetes and the issues I had faced as a child. Although I hadn’t yet started karate, I was good friends with Sensei’s son, whom I grew up to recognize as a brother. On a particular night where I was visiting and my blood sugars were skyrocketing (as they usually were), I may or may not have commented about a grown man cleaning up dog urine, when I saw Sensei tidying up after the poodle my friend owned. He decided to introduce himself then, and also introduced me to my first pressure point, which cause my arm to flare with electric pain. Needless to say, I made no further comment.

Recognizing that it’s decades later, some people hear that story and think that it was cruel to do that to a kid. Modern day adults would assume that it would have been better for Sensei to contact my parents, have them give me a talk and be sensitive to what my feelings may have been at the time. Yeah… fuck that. That’s a HUGE part of what’s wrong with the world today. Everyone’s too involved with their feelings and being offended. But that isn’t what today’s post is about, so I’m going to try and stay on track here. The point is, this was the first step towards learning humility that I had experienced up to that point. As a result, I found myself seeking out the martial arts to help heal my body and spirit, as opposed to cowering in a corner. Imagine my surprise when I walked into the dojo for the first time and saw Sensei standing there, in all his black-belted glory, as the instructor of the class. I could have excused myself and stepped out. I could have walked away and sought my teachings elsewhere. Instead, that one brief moment of humility echoed in my mind and told me that this teacher could teach; and learn was exactly what I was there to do.

Decades ago and while testing for my first belt, I noticed a panel in Sensei’s home dojo, which was attached to his house back in New Brunswick. I’ve seen it in plenty of other places since then but I remember being fascinated by the words. It read:

“For every 10,000 people that join a martial arts school, half will drop out within the first six months
Of those remaining students, about 1,000 will complete 1 year of training then quit. 500 will study for two years but only 100 will see their 3-year anniversary
On average, only 10 will study to achieve black belt.
One shall go on to teach others what he has learned, for the martial arts is now part of their life and they shall go on to share this life with others.

This person is a Sensei.”

Although the words didn’t sink in for me as deeply as they were intended, I was fascinated nonetheless. As I progressed in my studies, I began teaching others. Basics at first, then more complicated techniques, forms and even teaching the occasional class when Sensei was absent or otherwise unavailable, which was pretty rare. I enjoyed it greatly and felt that teaching was as much a part of my overall growth and learning as my mainstream studies were. There came a time when one of Sensei’s students opened a dojo of her own. With at least one class that landed on a different night than ours, I took advantage of the added tranning time. Given that I was the eldest belt in that group, I was often looked to as the assistant instructor, often opening and closing the dojo in preparation for class, and often taking on class when the instructor had to work or was absent. Teaching became an ingrained part of my journey. I met and retained many of my close friends through teaching, including but not limited to my friend Ricky, who interviewed for one of my posts back in 2021. You can read his story here.

There’s a rewarding feeling that comes from teaching others. Sensei has always said that karate is a puzzle with a million pieces. As long as you step out of the dojo every day with one new piece, you’ll have learned something. Watching someone go from their first day in the dojo, barely keeping balance when they walk, to performing kata, sparring, and keeping up with the rest of the class, emerging from their cocoon and training to become heir best selves, carries a level of satisfaction that one can only get from teaching. But teaching is not everyone’s cup of tea. I learned this the hard way, when I agreed to take on Sensei’s children’s class as the lead instructor. I went into that first night with an electric sense of excitement in my soul. I had made it. I was a Sensei. The future of these children’s martial arts journey would be molded by my hand. I would have the opportunity to pass on the things I had learned, share my insights, provide my perspective on the lessons learned, the pitfalls, the positive and negative… Until I wasn’t.

Teaching children was a significantly different bag of tricks from what I had become used to. Prior to this, I never had someone in the dojo who was younger than a teenager. While teenagers come with their own baggage, it’s usually and reasonably safe to say that they’re there of their own volition and want to learn. The same can’t necessarily be said of children. Having them line up properly, stay in line and pay attention became 75% of my time during the hour I had them. By the time the adult students started filing in to attend the adult class, I was often emotionally drained and in no position to train myself. My intention to teach others was sapping my ability to train and develop my own skills. The big issue I faced as a Sensei was that when you train children, you need to make it engaging. You need to make it fun. You can’t spend a straight hour repeating the same form over and over like I had been taught. You can’t pound on them and forge their steel muscles through fire the way we were. It was an entirely different ball of wax, one I was neither prepared nor capable of taking on.

Less than a year after I had taken it on, I had to stop and recognize the toll that teaching was taking on me and I had to relinquish the kid’s dojo back to Sensei. For what was probably the first time since that initial step into the dojo decades earlier, I had given up on something. It was no doubt as disappointing to Sensei as it was to me. But it was in the best interest of not only myself, but the children I was trying to teach. I was skilled, I was capable and I could definitely impart those skills to others. But I lacked the proper tools and knowledge to pass it on to children. Although I knew I was doing the right thing, it felt like a failure. It struck a significant blow to my psyche that took a long time to get over. As a result, I never opened another dojo on my own again after that. A few short years later, I joined the RCMP and moved out west. It was a reasonably easy excuse that transferring every few years would make it unfair to students for me to open a dojo, only to close it 3 to 5 years later. But the truth was right there in the back of my mind; the failure of my first dojo was enough to prevent me from taking the chance again.

In retrospect, part of me feels that it wasn’t so much a failure as it was an important lesson for me to recognize the different facets of teaching that I need to recognize. If I were to open a dojo today, teaching kids would likely be less of an issue for me. After all, I teach my youngest son some karate when he joins me. But that’s one child, with all my attention on him. I still believe that one can never truly learn the martial arts to its full potential without eventually teaching. It is a natural progression in one’s skills that is in effect, inevitable. But the big piece is in how you approach it. As I mentioned earlier, teaching is not everyone’s cup of tea. But the beauty of karate is that a studious practitioner will always manage to teach something to others, even when one is not planning or expecting it. Therefore, there are no regrets. Food for thought…☯️

Autumn Falls

Most people have a preferred or favorite season throughout the year. For most people, it tends to be the spring, when everything starts melting and the weather gets milder. Birds are chirping and greenery starts to poke its head through whatever remnants of winter snow may remain. For others, it’s usually the summer, since this generally means vacations, hot weather and outdoor activities and/or time at the pool or beach. You EVEN get the occasional person who favors winter, citing the beauty and clam that a slow, snowy night can bring. Personally, winter is the season I dislike the most, given that it means shoveling and snow removal, traveling to work in the cold and increased utility costs for keeping the house warm. No, for me, the best season and the one I enjoy the most is autumn, colloquially known as the fall season.

During fall, one can not only start to enjoy some of the milder weather, similar to what spring brings, but one begins to cool off after the hotter temperatures thrown about from the summer months. I get to spend time outdoors and perform yard work and chores without turning my shirt transparent from the sweat. It’s still nice enough out to enjoy workouts on my punching bag or sitting in my garage with a nice cigar. Wildlife still wanders my residential property but changes within their behavior and color start to emerge. The same can be said for the wonderful splendor of nature as a whole.

The Appalachian view of the bay from my home town in New Brunswick

For decades, I lived in Northern New Brunswick, surrounded by sea water, an open bay and the rounded moutain tops of the Appalachian range. During my youth, I was blinded by time; surrounded by beauty but never truly seeing it, because I grew up around it. It wasn’t until I moved away and started my career in Saskatchewan that my mindset changed. Now, returning home is much like taking a breath of fresh air. For those who have read previous posts, specifically recent ones about the pitfalls of my recent trip out East, I’m referring to the environment and its beauty; not the difficulties of going how again. But it isn’t until recent years while visiting my home area that I’ve come to realize just how much beauty was sitting in front of me all along, with my very clear eyes blind to seeing it. I guess that can often be the way of things when one is younger. You never quite appreciate what you’ve got until it’s gone, right?

Sugarloaf Mountain, an extinct volcano in my hometown

If you look at the photo included with this post, you’ll see one of the best parts of the fall season; the changing colors of the leaves. Stretch across a mountainy splendor, one can experience every variety of red, orange, yellow and brown, occasionally sprinkle with a touch of remaining green. This is either from the pine tress or from the few stubborn holdouts that don’t seem to lose their remaining chlorophyll, the pigment that gives most leaves their color. The overall tableau allows one to drink in the full splendor of nature’s awesome beauty and the impressive cycle and process it goes through every year. I can easily imagine, sitting on a rocker on a front porch, looking out at the open ocean and changing colors of the leaves, all while sipping on a hot cup of herbal tea. Not all time needs to be occupied. Sometimes the perfect day is allowing time to slow to a standstill so that nature can be heard. Although I will confess, this is often easier said than done.

So as the autumn settles in for its very short visit before the frigid temperatures of winter settles in, be sure to take some quiet time. Watch the transformation. Watch the evolution of the season and enjoy the cool, crisp mornings offset by the warmer, balmy afternoons. This is truly the best season that offers just a little something for everybody, regardless of their preference. And if you’re unfortunate enough to miss it, take comfort in the knowledge that it’ll all come around again in a year. But for now, take advantage if you can. A peaceful moment can heal many wounds. Jus’ sayin’… ☯️

Sometimes, Nature Knows…

About three years ago, I had an interesting incident that took place on my property. My family and I live on a small residential lot in Regina, Saskatchewan. It’s a quiet neighborhood, free of any commercial or industrial districts with the exception of some schools. I guess those aren’t necessarily in either of those categories but my point is, people don’t generally come into our neighborhood unless they live there or are visiting someone. As a result, we have an abundance of wildlife, including but not limited to rabbits, large squirrels and plenty of domesticated cats who have full advantage of wandering the neighborhood unbothered (for the most part). For me, the concept of seeing large rabbits just chilling on my front lawn has always been a point of fascination, since it was something I rarely saw in New Brunswick. We have them; they simply aren’t quite as visible as they seem to be here.

The incident I’m referring to from three years ago, involved a mother rabbit and her two babies being attacked by a large bird on our front lawn. One baby was killed, the mother fled and one baby hid under the wheel of my recycling bin. It was wedged under there, stuck and frightened. I temporarily took it under my care until I turned it loose when I spotted a group of three adult rabbits wandering the front lawn. I named him Fluffernut, although I can’t even confirm that it was male. I got a lot of backlash and hate for my actions, which not only caught me by surprise but as a strong believer in putting good out into the world, I felt I had done something right, even if the nay-sayers felt that I hadn’t. You can read about this interaction here. And here’s a photo of the little guy, hours before I released him back into the wild.

Fluffernut

A short while later, I was visited by a slightly larger rabbit that had some of the same color patterns and approached my son and I while we were inside the garage. Considering a rabbit’s fur and shading will change over time and with the seasons, I had no way of truly knowing if this was the same rabbit I had helped. But given that it was following my son and I around and accepted some Timothy hay and seeds without seeming scared or skittish around us, suggested that it had some familiarity with us. Maybe I was just romanticizing the notion. Who know? My point is, I feel that sometimes natures knows. And if you put good out into the world, good will often find you. A day or two ago, the same type of occurrence happened. And part of me can’t bring myself to believe that EVERY rabbit in my neighborhood is capable of approaching me without fear or dashing off as soon as I move.

So on Tuesday night, I was sitting quietly in my garage, polishing my work shoes and puffing on a semi-decent cigar. Once I had a few coats of polish on the shoes and they were looking decent, I set everything aside and started doing something light gaming on my iPad. I have a batch of daily crosswords and puzzles that I like to do in order to keep the mind sharp. Suddenly, a very large, light-haired rabbit hopped into view at the mouth of the garage and sat for several minutes, quietly staring at me with its dark, beady eyes. I felt entranced, and didn’t dare move for fear of scaring it off. After a few minutes, it slowly and calmly hopped into my back yard. Nathan came out, presumably having seen the rabbit from his bedroom window. I asked him not to scare it and to slowly retreat back to the house. Several minutes later, it approached the garage again. It sat the open mouth of the garage, watched me for a time, nibbled on some of the weeds sprouting from the seam in the garage door and even took a few steps INTO the garage.

I didn’t dare move and I barely breathed but I once again found myself wondering, Is this Fluffernut??? Probably not, but I can’t help but feel that nature knows. Maybe it was. Maybe he remembers and occasionally visits. The nay-sayers would say no. The beauty part is, thinking it doesn’t make it so but believing it makes me smile, so it can’t be all bad, right? All I know is I would have been unwilling to accept letting that little ball of fluff die needlessly, that day. Nature or not, nurture sometimes needs a win. And I felt I delivered that, back in the summer of 2022. Food for thought… ☯️

Get Back On The Horse…

So, I wanted to touch base on one of the most disliked (generally) but yet effective tools in training within karate circles; the horse stance. I think it’s important to bear in mind that like all other aspects of karate and the martial arts, different styles and schools may execute techniques and movements in different ways. By virtue of this and as I write this post, it’s important to view my opinion through the lens that these perspectives are those of my home dojo and reflective of Uechi Ryu Okinawa karate. Some of this may not relate to other styles, they may do it differently or, if you’re a martial artist yourself, may have been trained differently. I want to be clear that the specifics of this post are not intended to say any other method is ineffective or improper. It simply isn’t my way. ‘Nuff said. Let’s get on with it, shall we?

If you’ve trained in traditional karate, you’ve likely experienced it before. Class has been carrying on for over an hour. You’re soaked in sweat and your gi has practically turned transparent from your sweat. Every muscle, joint and even your bones ache and all you want to do is break away so you can gulp down some much-needed water. The, Sensei calls out: “HORSE STANCE!” You obediently drop into the familiar position that is in some ways comfortable due to its familiarity while simultaneously spelling your ability to walk’s doom. You predict, quite accurately, that you may be unable to lift yourself off the bed tomorrow morning. That’s if you don’t collapse from the horse stance now. Sensei sets an egg timer; you know the one… the turn-dial timer that clicks at every second as it counts down? You remain static, listening to every click and praying for the next one to be the last, until finally, the bell rings. This never meant we could stop, however. Stopping was not permitted until Sensei said so. But when he finally did, the relief in one’s legs ALMOST overshadowed their exhaustion.

Me, in a horse stance in Okinawa in 2001. How young and thin I was…

What seemed like a form of torture to the casual observer was a typical part of training for most of us. And we took full advantage of the training benefits that the horse stance provided. So, let’s start with the basics. What the fuck is a horse stance? Although done slightly different in some schools, if you look at the above photo of me, you’ll note that the big toes, feet and knees are pointed outwards at roughly a 45 degree angle from the front of the body. The torso is dropped down into what could almost be called a crouch but while spreading the feet so that the thighs are perpendicular to the shins but parallel to the floor. This position is held for whatever purpose the practitioner is using it for. In most cases, it’s used primarily for training and form. But in some limited capacity, it can also be used to help execute techniques in specific circumstances during an actual physical confrontation. Imagine, your opponent has fallen to the ground and the only way to retain contact with him is by crouching down into a horse stance. It provides overall balance, stability and reach to lower positions. As you can see from the photo, you can execute techniques from different angles while in a horse stance.

Let’s get to the meet and potatoes, though. Why in the hell would we put ourselves through the scenario I described above for a stance that is only rarely used in actual fighting? Well, on the one side, most aspects of form wouldn’t necessarily ever be used in a real fight. Form is intended to provide foundation, develop technique, speed and precision before using it in a real-time application. But the deep and wide position of the horse stance strengthens almost all the aspects of the lower body, legs, hips, thighs and butt. Believe or not, your butt muscles play an integral role in the proper execution of your kicks, your balance and your stance. Remember that, next time you consider skipping your lunges during resistance training. Horse stance is an isometric exercise, which means you hold the position without moving by engaging the muscles in those areas. The maintained tension contributes to the overall strength and growth.

A bit older and thicker but that horse stance still rocks!

Besides building up the muscle strength in the lower body, the horse stance will also help to build up your endurance. It’ll also work towards improving your mobility and range of hip movement; an important aspect when training in an art that includes leg movements and kicks. This helps to increase your flexibility and make deeper, prolonged position possible and more comfortable without injuring yourself. Your balance and stability will increase over time and believe it or not, your core gets significantly engaged, considering you need to keep your torso and upper body straight and stable while in the horse stance. There are probably far more physical benefits than I have listed here, but those are the basic ones that I can think of, for the purposes of this post.

While most of this covers what horse stance can do for the body, it should also be recognized that it can do quite a bit for the psychological and mental aspects, as well. Let’s not forget that karate is as much a mental discipline as physical. The concept of fighting through the pain, pushing through and finding one’s limits are very real aspects of traditional karate. Executing a proper horse stance and holding it allows a practitioner to build resilience, mental discipline and build up one’s tolerance to physical discomfort. These are wall important aspects to developing as a martial artist. As it was once said, discispline is not the enemy of enthusiasm. So while it would be easy to dismiss or omit the horse stance from one’s workout, I highly recommend against it. After all, reading this post should illustrate that every movement, every technique and every aspect of one’s martial art has purpose, and provides far more than what the casual observer likely realizes. Food for thought… ☯️

Whatever Happened To The Good Ol’ Days…?

We’ve all been there. You say or do something during your youth that elicits a roll of the eyes or a look of disdain by one of your elders, followed by one of the dreaded sentences that make your youthful eyes glaze over and threaten to close. “In my day, we would have never…” or “Kids these days!” were some of the more prominent ones I heard in my youth. It’s a pretty common thing, to have your parents or grandparents compare how they would have done things in their youth as opposed to how you did it. Or point out the various things they WOULDN’T have dared to do or that were impolite or improper during their time. We always find these comments annoying when we’re young and if you’re anything like me, you likely swore up and down that you would never be that way when you had children. And then you have kids. And given that they’re of a newer generation, their habits, opinions and views on the world are inevitably different from your own. And so it should be.

The world is not what it was 30 years ago when I was a teenager. In my youth, there were no smart phones and mobile phones involved a large bagged device that had to be plugged into your car lighter. Even when we had curfews, my parents had no way of contacting me to tell me to get my ass home. I could hop on my bike and pedal until my legs gave out and my folks would never know just how far I’d gone or what I’d been up to (unless I got caught doing something). My generation didn’t spend hours on end with electronic devices in our hands or binge-watching hours worth of television. I say this with full awareness that I’m currently blogging through an electronic device. But the most prominent thing that you never did, at least when I was a kid, was turn your nose up at a birthday or Christmas present. In my youth, even if you wanted and/or expected a particular gift or thing, you smiled, said thank you and made the best of what you got; even if it wasn’t what you wanted. The only exception was if you were given socks, underwear or clothing. That is some bullshit, right there… What kid wants SOCKS for their birthday. Am I right??? But I digress…

All of this stems from the fact that I have now become the older generation who comments on today’s youth. What’s most disturbing is I never saw it coming. Once I had children, it was all down hill from there. The disdain for their behaviors and perspectives, comparison to the lack of respect or the dismissal of responsibilities… While I thought I would never be the kind of parent who would replicate these behaviors from the older generation, I’ve taken stock only to realize that I am fully immersed in “old man syndrome,” commenting about how I never would have dared to say such things to my father, in response to my youngest’s birthday, which was last weekend. I didn’t realize how deeply like my father I had become until the words came out of this little bastard’s mouth…

My son Alexander, sporting the youth size boxing gloves he received on his birthday.

On Sunday, we celebrated my little Alexander the Great’s sixth birthday. We had a fun weekend of doing all the things he wanted to do, which included lunch and play place time at McDonald’s (in and of itself no longer a cheap option for a family of four), followed by a couple of hours at the Science Centre (yes, the same Science Centre from the incident in yesterday’s post). I thought we did a pretty good job of accommodating his special day. My wife made him a homemade chocolate cake, which he got o help and decorate. We got him two gifts. The first was the set of youth boxing gloves seen in the photo above. Believe it or not, finding a small pair of gloves that would accommodate his hands was tougher than one would think. Before I had kids, I used to see 8 ounce boxing gloves all over the place. Think I can find them, now that I need them??? Of course not! But the gloves will be handy in helping him to train safely while doing karate workouts with daddy. This will save potential injury from using oversized gloves or even throwing bare-knuckled punches on the pads before his wrists strengthen and his technique gets smoother.

The second gift is a pretty cool one, if I do say so myself. He loves to make hideouts and forts using blankets and chair and whatever else he finds, while hanging out in the basement with me. I got him a polyester tent that has small tunnels that offshoot from the sides and bring him to two, smaller tents on either end. A couple of quick blankets over the top of the tents and he has a contained fort that he can drag blankets and his iPad inside, snack and his water bottle and chill out on his own, hidden away safely from “bad guys.” I thought these gifts were reasonably well thought out and I was looking forward to seeing him get excited and enjoy the gifts he’d gotten. We’ve never been a household for showering dozens of gifts on any of us, believing that this isn’t the inherent purpose of a given holiday. A simple gift or two is enough. But the disappointed and despondent look on his face as he asked the question, “Are there any more presents?” caused a variety of emotional responses in me.

Alex said knock you out!

At first, I was angry and disappointed at the selfishness coming from the child I was raising. In what world is it okay to have your parents spend time, money and effort in doing all of these things for your birthday, only to have you question why you didn’t get more? Where’s the respect? Where’s the appreciation? In my day, we would have smiled, nodded and been happy to make the most of the gifts we received instead of wondering where everything else is hiding. When asked why he wasn’t happy with what he’d gotten, he pointed out that he’d apparently listed a number of things he wanted for his birthday in recent months. Well, fuck… My wife and I exchanged a look with each other but neither of us could recall him naming the things that he did. Was this on us? I’m open-minded enough to believe it’s a possibility. Maybe I just didn’t do a good enough job of listening to what my child wanted. Maybe I’m being too harsh in my view of his reactions. Or maybe, just maybe, I’m right and he should be grateful for what he’s got…

Once I had a night to sleep on it (and after he’d set up his fort and realized he was having fun), I started thinking it may be more of the former than the latter. While a birthday isn’t intended to be a free-for-all for as much stuff as one can get, it might have been nice if I’d gotten him something that he actually WANTED. I think he might have enjoyed his birthday a little better if his immediate response to his gifts was disappointment, even if he’s enjoying them now that he’s using them. A big part of adulthood is working to recognizing that our children, while smaller and lacking some of the knowledge to know better, are still people with their own feelings, views and thoughts on things. While they may not always align with ours, they still have validity, in certain areas. It’s what allows us, as adults, to come full circle and realize that our parents may have been right with the comments they made in our youth. I just wonder if they ever reached the realization that it isn’t always about the previous generation and that as humans, adapting to the times that come is nearly as important as remembering where we came from. I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking it. He’ll likely forget all of this after the first few hook punches land next time we train. Food for thought… ☯️

Not All That Glitters…

Ah, Shakespeare… I never read much of his stuff through school the way many others might have. Apparently, French schools in Northern New Brunswick took issue with using English literature as a base for learning. No idea if it’s still the same today, but back when I was a student, they died on the hill that they would only refer to French-origin authors. But I digress… Despite the title, today’s topic isn’t about Shakespeare. It’s about Diabetes. Specifically, the benefits and pitfalls of an insulin pump and some of the unseen difficulties that people may not be aware of, when they see someone rockin’ an insulin pump on my hip. I recently had a couple of teenagers walk past me in a retail store and they actually asked me if I was wearing a pager? First, I was surprised they knew what a pager was. Now, I’m just disappointed that they asked, considering the tubing that juts out from the top. But anyway, moving on…

I’ve been on pump therapy for a little over ten years now, and am enjoying my third insulin pump from the same supplier. Each more advanced than the previous, my first pump was a glorified syringe; providing a basal rate throughout the day and not delivering insulin unless I manually inputted carbs for as bolus. I still had to finger prick several times a day and maintain direct, hands-on control of all aspects of my Diabetes (which one likely should anyway). When the concept of continuous glucose monitoring was brought up, I was recommended the Freestyle Libre. Referred to as “the poor man’s CGM,” it wouldn’t tether or communicate with any pump, but a simple phone app would allow you to get your interstitial fluid reading at any time. The down fall to this is that it didn’t maintain levels for you or adjust your pump, so total manual intervention was still required. But it was still a step forward from constant finger pricks.

My second pump came with a tethered CGM, which now allowed me to have communication between the pump and the CGM for direct adjustments and insulin blouses, based on what my blood sugars were at, at the time of my meal. It was a significant step forward and prevented constant finger pricks every time I ate something. Which was nice. The third pump, which is the one I’m on now, not only has a tethered CGM but uses a platform called SmartGuard, which communicates and makes micro adjustments to my blood sugars every five minutes, depending on my blood sugar levels, insulin sensitivity at certain times of day, and different carb ratios for different meals and times of the day. These adjustments, performed by the pump itself without my intervention, have significantly improved my time in range, providing better overall blood sugar control, less extremes high’s and low’s and a happier, less grumpy me (although only marginally less grumpy).

So, here comes the dark side of pumps… I’ve always written that life rarely cares about one’s plans. The only stronger advocate for this effect is Type-1 Diabetes. At the end of the day, you can do everything inherently right and still have issues. Such examples happen frequently for me, despite how closely I watch my levels and take care of myself. After all, just about ANYTHING can affect blood sugars, including things like mood, temperature and climate and just about anything else you can possibly think of. And no matter how nice a trinket the insulin pump may be, or how diligently you work towards controlling your condition, something will always come along to throw a monkey wrench into the mix.

If you look at the image above, it shows a steady decline in blood sugars levels. This is from the app on my phone that monitors my pump functions, so that I don’t have to constantly remove the pump from my belt to look at it. This decline in blood sugars carried on for a couple of hours. If you look closely, you’ll note that the pump initially trie dot adjust by cutting off my basal flow shortly after the noon hour to compensate for the downward trend. Although sitting around 8.0 mmol/L isn’t a terrible level, the downward trend is what can be a concern. Once I dipped below 4.0 mmol/L, I slipped below proper range. I’ll point out that during this time period, I was at a science Centre with my family. I wasn’t engaged in stressful activity, I wasn’t exerting myself and I spent most of the visit sitting. It starts to take an upward trend shortly after the 2 o’clock hour. This is after spending over forty minutes eating an entire bag of Skittles (the large, 170g bag; not the individual 61g sachet).

It took another half hour or so for me to start to feel normal and to be able to function within what I needed to walk around, interact with my kids and get us home. It’s a not-so-frequent occurrence but it does happen; even with something as technologically amazing as the insulin pump. But low’s aren’t the only issue. Lingering high’s can also cause significant issues. High blood sugars can lead to nasty secondary issues like ketoacidosis, where your blood slowly turns acidic. Not fun. But the overall shitty feeling you have while dealing with either extreme high’s or low’s more than just suck; they can potentially endanger your life. The previous day to the scenario above, I had a blood sugar level in the mid-teens, which lingered for a significant portion of the day.

If you look at the image above, the tiny red slice accounts for the period below range I suffered while out with my family. The huge yellow portion is the approximate fourteen-and-a-half hours that my blood sugars were high. This led to a night with barely any sleep, frequent urination, constant adjustment bonuses to compensate, both manual and pump-programmed, and wondering at what point I should start to consider phoning an ambulance. Nice, eh? The icing on the cake is I ate nothing heavily sugared, drank plenty of water and fluids and didn’t do anything that should have elicited this spike. But for some reason, it happened, it lasted and it lingered. I had to deal with it during the period of the day that a reasonable person should be sleeping and getting the required rest for the day that would follow. It sucks, but such is the life of a Type-1 Diabetic. It sometimes has no rhyme or reason and just fucks with your day without warning.

This is all the more reason to be properly prepared at all times. In that extreme low scenario when I was out with my family, if I hadn’t packed my shoulder sling with some fast-acting carbs and other Diabetic necessities, I might have found myself in a difficult situation. And this is the where the “not all that glitters is gold,” comment comes in. The insulin pump is an amazing tool for Diabetes therapy. But that’s all it is; a tool. A technologically-advanced tool that makes my life ten times easier than it was two decades ago, mind you. But a tool nonetheless. And as handy and pretty as it is, it still falls to the person behind the pump to ensure proper blood sugars levels are controlled and health is maintained. Diabetes has come a long way, since I was diagnosed all the way back in 1982. I can say with sincere honesty that I can’t wait to see what the next decade will bring. After all, there’s nowhere to go but up. Stay healthy. ☯️

Let’s Tip The Scales, Shall We?

So, this will be a straight up opinion-based post, with no illusions of referencing Diabetes, martial arts or Buddhism in any way, shape or form, so please feel free to click your back button or forego reading the post, if you feel that the content may offend you or trigger you in some way. I need to be clear that I don’t argue in my comments section and while I value everyone’s opinion and welcome it, the contents below reflect only my own, personal opinion and I’ll be the first to admit that THAT doesn’t mean I’m right; it’s simply my view. If you’re prepared to take a step in the exploratory arena and actually read something to elicit some thought, please carry on. Just clarify, today’s post will be a rant on tipping, tipping culture and proper etiquette within the modern retail and restaurant industry. Tread carefully at your own risk…

First of all, let’s start by looking at what “tipping” actually involves. I the modern sense, tipping is when you’ve enjoyed a meal or solicited the services of a business or restaurant. At the conclusion of the transaction, customers can provide a gratuity or consideration on top of the total cost, which is meant to go directly to the person who served you. This is referred to as a “tip.” In Canada, this trend was dragged over in the early 20th Century by European settlers as a gesture to show appreciation for a job well done or service well provided. For most of us, this is still how we think of a tip and the reason behind why we provide one. But somewhere over the past couple of decades, there seems to have been a growing trend where tipping is not only expected but many businesses are starting to dictate to customers just how much they should tip? Or is it a recent trend…?

Tipping is said to have originated in medieval Europe. Ironically, tipping was considered an important consideration for low-wage or enslaved servants who didn’t make enough money to support their families. Sound vaguely familiar? It should; this is a prominent argument among the restaurant industry that servers and support staff need tips to supplement their low salaries in order to make ends meet. As the argument goes, many argue that it isn’t their responsibility to supply additional funds to employees because their employers don’t pay them enough. It should be the employer’s responsibility to provide a livable wage that allows staff to make a living while providing service to customers. Many argue that, if you aren’t making enough, then just go get a job where you make more. While I’m a big fan of this concept and I’ve lived my life doing just that, there are two problems with this concept as a general rule: 1) You never know the circumstances of someone’s life that may make it an obligation to work the job they’re in, and 2) Many higher paying jobs often require training, education or certifications that depend on the employee paying for them out-of-pocket.

In North America, tipping became a controversial issue in the 19th Century as gratuities and considerations were often given to low-wage employees and immigrants to supplement their lack of money. It isn’t until the 1930’s that it became a common practice in retail circles. But the practice of tipping has always been controversial, with a significant divide between the ones who believe if you can’t tip, don’t go out and the ones who believe that they should only have to pay for their meal and nothing more. It can be a difficult and awkward discussion, when the two parties collide. Personally, I fall somewhere on the middle; I don’t believe I NEED to pay anything more than what my bill’s total sits at. But if the person serving me provides excellent service and I enjoyed my experience, I have no issues in providing a tip. It’s the ones who demand or expect a tip, regardless of service, that irk me. Especially at a retail location where I walked the floor, found my own garments, tried them on and walked up to the till and find a tip option on the debit machine. Really??? What the fuck am I tipping you for? Standing behind the counter on your phone while you WAITED for me to walk up…? But I digress…

So, when is it appropriate to tip and how much is reasonable? Well, you’ll find plenty of references online related to a “standard percentage,” but don’t let that fool you. In reality, there is no standard amount. A customer should always tip based on the amount they feel is appropriate, commensurate with the service they received. If a restaurant or business gives you attitude over the amount? Guess what? That plays into the overall service and as a customer, that’s likely a location you should return to. I once read a story about how a restaurant banned a customer because they didn’t tip their server. When the manager spoke to the customer, they said they couldn’t afford a tip, so the manager told them that if they couldn’t afford to tip, maybe they should have simply eaten at home. Really??? Have we fallen so far low as a society that a business would prefer to lose the sale from a customer than accept that even if they don’t have EXTRA money to tip, they still contributed money to that business that not only ensures it can retain staff but continues to operate?

I miss the old days when I was a kid and my grandparents would take me out for a treat at a local coffee shop. After eating my treat and my grandfather had his coffee, I’d see him slip a few coins to the server or leave it on the table. A polite thank you would always be exchanged by both sides. No awkwardness, no attitude regarding the amount; just gratitude that a customer decided to provide a little something extra for the good service they received. This is the environment the world needs to return to. Businesses having a sign on their door that says “If you can’t afford to tip, please don’t enter our restaurant,” or “mandatory tipping of 20% or more” may have become the norm but may soon find themselves shutting their doors. In a society of continued inflation and price increases, people will start moving away and revolting against businesses that make tipping mandatory or an expectation, as opposed to simply paying their staff a livable wage. I know for myself, if an employee goes out of their way to provide good service, I have no issues giving a tip. If they give me attitude or sneer at the amount I leave, or even demand how much I leave, which has happened, they’ll likely find themselves on the receiving end of some choice words. Food for thought, that you don’t have to tip for… ☯️

When Customer Service Still Exists… (Above & Beyond)

We live in a world of entitlement and immediate gratification. Most people these days are of the opinion that they owed everything, are entitled to everything and assume they’re always right. I see a lot of that. Cue a British retail mogul named Selfridge, who coined the phrase “the customer is always right…” In the early 20th Century, Selfridge coined this slogan, but the part that modern people seem to forget, is that the slogan actually reads, “the customer is always right in matters of taste.” This slogan was meant to emphasize that customers should always have their preferences catered to, rather than lose the sale. Somehow, over the decades that followed, it got shortened to “the customer is always right,” and customers the world over have used this as a weapon to assume businesses should bend over backwards to provide things the customer either hasn’t paid for, or isn’t entitled to. The flip side to that coin, is the degradation of customer service in modern retail. More and more, it seems that getting decent service and correct orders in almost any industry is a dead art; businesses preferring to assume customers should just take their chances and suck it up if it’s wrong, rather than actually try to do it right.

It’s a bit of a cynical view, I admit. But it comes from a place of experience and knowledge. I’ve worked in retail industries often over the past three decades, despite my policing career, and I’ve seen the damage from both sides. This is why, when good service is provided, especially good service that goes above and beyond, I believe that is should not only be recognized but thoroughly congratulated. So, here’s the background. I was diagnosed as Type-1 Diabetic when I was four years old. As of two days go, that means that I’ve been Type-1 for 43 years. I’ve been around the block, as far as dealing with every possible situation Diabetes can throw at me, including ketoacidosis, comas, frequent dehydration, eye issues (hence my eye injections) and kidney issues. I’m among the lucky ones, as I’ve worked and fought hard to maintain myself and my health, preventing some of the more serious complications of Type-1, such as organ failure and, well… death. So believe me when I say that I try and do everything right and control my condition with an almost surgeon-like precision.

Whenever I travel, whenever I leave the house, really, I always make a point of bringing along certain necessities with me. This usually includes nasal spray, hand sanitizer, a portable first aid kit, a glucometer, and last but not least, fast-acting carbohydrates, like Skittles or Swedish Berries. This is done almost without exception since, even on a short car ride, my blood can suddenly drop for little to no reason and I can find myself stuck in traffic with no means of treating a low. It’s almost reflexive at this point, having done so for most of my adult life. Which is why the situation that happened last Thursday night came as a bit of a shock… I travelled to Saskatoon for my scheduled eye injections. I do these at 13-week intervals now, which is a marked improvement from the 4-week intervals I started at. Once again, a testament to how the body can heal itself from many conditions if you take care of yourself and give it the tools it needs. I travelled to the city Thursday morning and checked into my hotel room without issue. I walked over to the hospital about mid-afternoon and got checked into for my procedure. Getting through the process can take a couple of hours but the procedure itself is only about ten minutes. Modern medicine, go figure.

That evening, I enjoyed a solitary meal at the Irish pub located on the ground floor of my hotel. Everything went fine and I made my way back up to my room to binge-watch some Netflix and go to sleep. I awoke a couple of hours later to my insulin pump blaring an alarm at me. It appeared that I was suffering a low. Not just a low, but I got the dreaded “Below 2.8mmol/L” message, which meant that my low blood sugar was basically at a life-threatening level. The only thing I can figure is that I had over-bolused for my meal and the additional insulin hadn’t caught up to me until then. Yet another reason why it’s never a good idea to eat so close to bedtime. Accustomed to treating late-night lows, I staggered over to my backpack and rummaged through, trying to wrap my fingers around the live-saving gummies or Skittles I expected to find. Only, I found nothing… The candies I usually so meticulously packed in every bag whenever I left the house were nowhere to be found. Panic began to set in. I considered downing the little sugar packet included with my coffee station but quickly dismissed the idea, since it would have very little effect and I would still be in trouble. With little other choice and quickly losing sense of my faculties, I did the only thing I COULD do; I grabbed my room key and debit card and stumbled out of my room to seek help.

I made my way to the ground floor and remembered the bank of vending machines to my left. I walked over and struggled to see clearly, both from the blood sugar and from my recent eye injections, to figure out if one of the machines took debit. I felt the minutes melting away, so I walked up to the counter and asked the front clerk for help. I managed to mumble out that I was Type-1 Diabetic and was having a low episode and needed his help. Although I have been staying at this hotel for over ten years, I didn’t recognize this man, which likely makes sense as I’m usually sleeping during the over night. This man guided me over to the lobby couch, sat me down and hustled into the restaurant’s kitchen and got me a cup of straight Coke. He handed it to me and watched me as I drank it readily. He got me a refill once I had finished the first cup and carried on from the reception desk, while keeping a clear eye on me. After about ten minutes, my blood sugars started to climb back to a level where I could at least start to see properly and feel a sense of coherence again. He asked me how I was feeling, to which I replied that I was coming around. The clarity of my voice must have encouraged him, compared to what I had initially mumbled.

I slowly walked over to the vending machines and I was able to find one machine that took debit, so I got myself a bottle of Coke to bring back to the room, in the event I dropped again or if I needed a little bit extra. I was sure to thank this gentleman before getting on the elevator. My blood rose to over 4.0 mmol/L before I finally fell back asleep, which isn’t phenomenal but was a clear sign it was climbing and my pump would wake me if it dropped again. I woke up the next morning feeling as though I had been hit by a freight train. I felt like an absolute inexperienced idiot. Not only did I have one of the worst lows in recent memory, I ad to do it while I was away from home and on the one occasion where I somehow forgot to pack some carbs for the trip. I know how the latter happened but I won’t bore you with the reasoning. The bottom line is that when it comes to my health, there is no valid excuse. If anything, I should have checked my back when I arrived and unpacked. At least then, I would have had the opportunity to buy something for the room ahead of time and I could have avoided the whole thing.

As I started sipping my morning caffeine, the reality of the situation started to sink in. The severity of the low and the situation I was in, alone in a hotel room, no sugary products to consume and slowly losing cognitive capacity, this could have gone from bad to extremely worse in very short order, had I not made my way downstairs and if my mystery clerk hadn’t assisted me. Although he may not have been fully aware of just how serious a state I was in, and he may not recognize that he may have potentially saved my life (or at the very least, saved me from an ambulance ride), he rose to the occasion and helped me without hesitation. He could have done what many would have done, and what I’ve been subjected to in the past, where security could have been called, accused me of being intoxicated, etc. After all, incoherent, stumbling man on shorts and bare-footed, mumbling something about an episode; many would have acted differently. But not this man. This man stepped up and gave me the help I needed to allow me to help myself. For me, that’s customer service that goes above and beyond what one would usually hope to find.

When I checked out of my room that morning, I asked the front desk clerk who the gentleman working overnight was called. As I asked, I reached over to the bank of business cards on the desk and grabbed one for the General Manager. I think the clerk took this as a bad sign and asked me if something had happened. I said that yeah, something had happened. This man possibly saved my damn life and I wanted his name so her could be recognized. She told me her name was Greg, and was happy to hear that he was able to help. I’ll be sending a note to their General Manager recognizing this man and what he did for me last Thursday. He showed the kind of attention and assistance that everyone in the service industry should be able to provide for their guests/customers. And I should dare say that customer service like that doesn’t belong on the night shift. Hat’s off to you, Greg! You’re an example to others. Keep up the good work!

For myself, this was a sobering reminder that my condition follows me wherever I go. It doesn’t take days off, doesn’t stay behind when I travel and won’t give me an inch for the mile. By virtue of that, it’s all the more reason for me to be vigilant in preparing for any outing, trip or travel. After all, I can’t always assume that in the event of an emergency, Greg will be there to save the day. Sugary food for thought… ☯️

I Have Superpowers…

No, I’m not faster than a speeding bullet. I can’t leap tall buildings in a single bound and I’m not mightier than a locomotive. I’m not referring to the imaginary superpower, although that would be really fuckin’ cool. I always thought the power of flight would be the best power, since I could eat to work every morning without paying for gas or sitting on public transit. But I digress… No, the super power I’m referring to, is one that we all have and we can all take advantage of. The big problem is that in general, without limiting ourselves by certain exceptions, no one tends to recognize or take advantage of those super powers. I’m talking about your body’s own inherent abilities.

The human body is a genuinely amazing thing. For the most part, the human body is able to heal and/or regenerate almost all the tissues within itself, with the obvious exception of teeth. Bear in mind, there’s a huge difference between “healing” and “regenerating.” For example, the liver is one of the only organs that can positively regrow, even if a significant portion of it has been removed. Bones will also knit themselves back together, often stronger than their previous state, when broken. The majority of the tissues in one’s body will heal themselves back together their original state, or what’s known as “cell replacement.” Depending on how they heal, this can be pretty extreme. For example, I’ve read that the lining of our stomachs and intestines are almost constantly replaced by fresh cells; a necessary system of the body to counteract the corrosive nature of our digestive acids, or the uterine lining in a woman’s body, which regenerates completely from one month to another.

This plays a major role in how we live. For the most part, the healthier we live, the better the chances we have of proper healing and recovery. For example, despite being one of the organs that can regenerate, the liver will fail and die off if one consumes and abuses of alcohol. Certain nutrient or mineral deficiencies will prevent bones from knitting and can even make them brittle. It’s important to note that nutritional, lifestyle habits and even how we sleep can affect our body’s overall ability to heal and regenerate itself. Age also plays an important factor, of course, with one’s body’s ability to heal properly decreases with time and age. But in terms of lifestyle and fitness, I can provide a first-hand example…

In November of 2023, I received a Type-1 Diabetic’s worst news from my endocrinologist. My blood work showed that my kidneys were struggling and I was in the early stages of kidney failure. That would be scary for anybody but having lived for 43 years with a condition that I knew would eventually knock one of my organs out of play (besides the pancreas, of course). It’s a reality I was always aware of but never really paid any mind, since I tend to work out pretty well and monitor my blood sugars pretty closely. I remember walking out of my doctor’s office that day with a fairly strong sense that I had been handed a death sentence. Recognizing that I had a family and very much left to do with my life, I did what I always do when death foolishly knocks at my door; I fought back. I started by asking what could be done to heal the issue. This is an important aspect to proper health. People these days are obsessed with “treating” symptoms but never really look at the overlying cause that’s brought them to their current state.

My doctor suggested that losing a bit of weight would help. My initial thought was “fuck you, too.” Although always on the husky side, I’ve never been obese or even what one would call fat. Although I snack and eat like the best of the ‘em, I’ve never been a horrific eater and always monitor my carb intake carefully. This is where he introduced me to Ozempic and suggested I start taking it. I was pretty leery of it, due to the negative spin the media had put out. But I reluctantly started on it. In tandem with the drug, I also drastically altered my diet. No, I didn’t jump on to some stupid fad or gimmicky diet and I didn’t download an app. I simply took common sense steps that doctors and nutritionists have been barking for decades. I started avoiding battered foods in favor of fresh, lean proteins. I got in the habit of pan-searing fresh fish instead of getting battered, frozen fish. Steak and chicken were prepared fresh, as well. Healthy grains in small doses, fruits and even soup, which I’ve always considered a nemesis of mine. I had soup forced on me a lot during my childhood and as an adult, I always stood that a liquid couldn’t be a meal. I’ve allowed myself to provide me wrong.

Sleep habits were altered. I go to bed effectively the same time every night, with the only exceptions being if I’m traveling and it can’t be helped. I started taking steps to ensure proper, uninterrupted sleep, which has been challenging in and of itself, due to PTSD. But once I got to a certain point, I can now get at least six to seven hours of sleep WITHOUT any of the initial aids I was taking to get that sleep. Most mornings, I wake up prior to my alarm. Working out has been a consistent challenge in recent years. Fatigue and lack of motivation can be some of the biggest obstacles to proper health. I changed up my routine where, instead of trying to work out for a couple of hours, several times a week, I work out for thirty minutes, every day. There are days where I miss, of course. But losing one 30-minute workout is much easier to recover from, than going a full week without working out at all.

In conjunction with the Ozempic, this led to about 30 pounds of weight loss, which is almost double what most semaglutide users can expect. Instead of sitting back and letting the medication treat something, I jumped on and helped it do its job. Given this weight loss, a few magical things started to happen. My blood sugars became increasingly easy to control. My blood pressure dropped and stayed down, meaning I had less headaches. My sleep quality increased significantly but last and not least was the biggest aspect of all; my kidneys had recovered and I was no longer in early stages of failure. The sense of relief and satisfaction at having taken my health in had the way I did was phenomenal. Now, I’m not suggesting that someone who IS in kidney failure can recover their organs. I’m not friggin’ Wolverine, after all. I was lucky enough to have caught this at a stage where the damage could be reversed.

The lesson here is that most people have vices that are unhealthy and do damage that isn’t seen in the here and now. It isn’t until a red light pops up that we decide to stop and take a good, hard look at our habits. Some people never get the opportunity. But making some of these small changes to one’s habits can be life-prolonging, if not life-saving. So, we all have a super power. We have the ability within ourselves to heal our bodies and maintain our health. We simply need to embrace that power and work towards making life healthier and easier for ourselves. Food for thought. ☯️

When Should One Start Teaching?

This is actually a topic I found recently on a social media page for karate, where the subject of teaching others and at what level of black belt can one begin to teach. Recognizing that every style has its own methods and differences, I don’t necessarily want to generalize too badly but I will share the high level version of what my school has always done and what Sensei always encouraged. For the most part, my Sensei’s Sensei used to say that martial arts is like climbing a ladder; over time, you make your way up several rungs to get higher. Once you do, you’ll take notice of someone who is a number of rungs below you. The idea is that you should reach down and help that student climb the next rungs to reach the same level as you’re on, if not exceed it. Then, as that student progresses to the higher rungs, they would be doing the same for you. It’s a bit of a romanticized notion and it certainly requires each practitioner to be a bit selfless and willing to help others as opposed to focusing solely on themselves.

But the specific question posed in the social media post I saw, was how many degrees to one’s black belt were required to teach. This is a bit of a loaded question, since originally, belt systems weren’t used in traditional Okinawa karate. The ones with knowledge basically just, well… taught. So the concept of requiring a black belt in order to teach others is a somewhat westernized detail that doesn’t necessarily track. One aspect I WOULD agree with, is the requirement to get one’s Sensei’s approval or consent before starting to teach someone else what you’ve learned. Your Sensei is the one best suited to determine what level you’re at, and whether you’ve become proficient enough in certain areas to effectively pass on the material. After all, if you perform a technique poorly and you teach it to someone else, they’ll learn it poorly and practice it poorly. This does your style a disservice and will lead to the dilution and watering down of your style, whatever that may be. But at what point can one genuinely begin to teach others?

This question takes me all the way back to good ol’ 1989. Yes, you read that right; 1989. 36 fucking years ago. Man, I’m getting old… Anyhoo, I remember struggling through much of my first week in karate. Such is always the way with new students. You don’t know shit, haven’t learned anything yet and are basically just following along, trying to mirror what you see everyone else doing. Usually while doing it poorly or improperly. After the first week, Sensei grabbed me before class and told me I needed to learn some of the basics one-on-one. I had foolishly assumed at the time that I would be receiving this instruction from Sensei. But given that there are several students and only one Sensei, I quickly learned that he would often lean on other students to provide initial coaching and guidance. I still remember the young girl who taught me the opening of my first kata… She was a few years younger than I was. One of three sisters, all of whom were in karate, her name was Teri-Lynn.

Patient, helpful and willing to put me through my paces, it’s interesting to wonder where I would be or what direction my martial arts training may have taken, if not for those initial interactions where I was properly guided by someone who knew the material and could easily and readily pass it on. It played an integral part in how I viewed the dojo, its students and the teaching of Uechi Ryu. Unlike some other schools I visited and tried, where I was basically left endlessly to my own devices to learn and glom on to what I could. This makes it extremely difficult to learn properly and can lead to frustration, discouragement and ultimately, quitting the school. But my point is that Terri-Lynn was a yellow belt when she taught me all the basic knowledge I required to start my karate journey.

So, the takeaway lesson here, is that rank is irrelevant when it comes to teaching the art. Whether your belt is white, black or any of the colors in between, teaching what you know is man important part to learning within karate. And not just for the one you’re imparting the knowledge on; it’s important for you, as the teacher, as well. One cannot effectively learn without teaching. And one cannot effectively teach without learning. This is the important balance that one must acknowledge when seeking to learn and/or teach within traditional martial arts. Karate is meant to be taught. And while one cannot effectively teach train by oneself, karate is not a solitary art. I’m reminded of a line from Star Wars, of all things. In Episode I, where they’re at a Jedi funeral and discussing the return of the Sith, Yoda says, “Always two, there are. No more, no less…” There’s a whole bunch of reference behind this but the same can be said of karate. One who knows, and one who learns. Those roles will shift and go back and forth through the years. Learning and teaching go hand in hand. That’s why, if trying out a new dojo and you feel abandoned and left to your own devices, it may not be the style for you. Food for thought… ☯️