What Karate Means to Me
When I tested for my first rank in Legacy Shorin Ryu, I had to write an essay entitled 'What Karate Mean to Me.' Even at that early stage karate-do had already made an impact on my life. In the years since, I have trained in several styles, in many different schools, and with a lot of fantastic people who have taught me about myself, themselves, and life. Since the age of sixteen, I haven't gone longer than eight months without training. Even then it was only because I had moved and had to find another school. At the beginning of February, I decided to take a break from training. Now seems like a fitting time to re-examine that first essay topic.
My first introduction to martial arts occurred while I was on break visiting my father in Canada. He and my brother had started attending a Tae Kwon Do school with classes in Montgomery and North Troy, Vermont. I had never seen anything like it. Not the martial arts - that was in movies and on TV. What impressed me the most was the atmosphere of study and the dedication of the students. They actually wanted to learn and worked hard to improve. This was a far cry from my high school classes where achieving was almost viewed as a negative. As soon as I got back to my mother's in Connecticut, I signed up for the closest class I could find.
The local YMCA a few blocks from our apartments offered a Tang Soo Do class taught by Mr. Wood. I was an over-weight, out-of-shape teenager, but I fell in love with training. The challenges were endless, but always within sight. Mr. Wood was an interesting man with a military background he rarely talked about. Aside from a few gory stories, his quiet calm manner left me with the impression that he could be dangerous if he had to be.
For the next two years, I alternated between training in Tang Soo Do with Mr. Wood, and later Master Lee when the YMCA class was absorbed into the main school's classes, and Tae Kwon Do during the summers. I met some interesting people whose dedication to improvement and the impossible aim to achieve perfection fascinated me. The art and philosophy that governed both systems intrigued me. I also learned how to take a hit without falling apart. The axe kick to the cheek from my brother left an impression, but also taught me that getting hurt wasn't the end of the world. I also learned to push myself beyond my comfort zone. Many nights I came home exhausted, sore, and with a feeling of contentment that only comes from hard work. From break-a-thons to raise money for a playground to 400-kick nights, I finally found a place where I felt like I could strive to be the best I could be without being looked down on as a teacher's pet or goodie-goodie.
After two years, I was off to University. This meant a move back to Canada and leaving Mr. Lee's school. I was leaving with a red belt (3rd degree) in Tang Soo Do. After the initial shock of being alone and far from home, I went to the clubs week in hopes of finding a club to join. Socializing has never been my strong suit, but a group learning environment was a great way for me to meet new people. I was shocked to find out that the Tang Soo Do style I had been training in was a Korean version of Shotokan karate. The university had a karate club that offered a mixture of Matsubayashi Shorin Ryu and Chito Ryu. The former was closely tied to the Shorin Ryu system that Shotokan was based on.
When I joined Legacy Shorin Ryu, I had no idea how big an influence it have on my life. I took off my red belt, which in Shorin Ryu was the color of 10th dan, and started over as a white belt. I had already experienced being a white belt in two systems and felt it appropriate considering the differences in what I was studying versus what I had studied.
During the school year, I trained several times a week with Hanshi Legacy and the numerous black belts in his school system who had their own schools. Monday and Wednesday nights there was a class at the University club. Tuesday and Thursday nights, it was training in St. Thomas. Friday nights, I sometimes trained with Shihan Bowron at the YMCA downtown but I eventually dedicated to helping Shihan Chaki with her classes at another YMCA. Some Wednesdays I'd help Sensei Patricia Beauregard teach her class at a French immersion school. Other Wednesdays became iaido/kobudo night. There were clubs at the local residential school for the deaf and hearing impaired. There were classes in the neighboring towns. Saturdays were for brown and black belt work-outs. Every other Sunday we practiced Hakutsuru (white crane). There was always an opportunity to train and a black belt to train under with so much knowledge and experience that every class was a challenge. I even got to help with the tiny tots classes on Saturday mornings before the brown and black belt classes. Some weeks we trained six days out of seven.
As I rose through the ranks, I faced many challenges and frustrations. I learned to lead exercises and then eventually classes. I worked with children as young as three years old and sparred with a professor emeritus black belt who had plenty of tricks up his sleeves. Testing taught me confidence and the art of presentation. I fought people I had never met before and Shihans who I knew well enough to feared their skill. I learned to take more than one punch and stay in the fight. When I broke my thumb and couldn't spar for my first kyu testing, I learned the value of opportunity. After that I was always the first person to volunteer to spar no matter who the opponent was. And there there plenty of opponents to face. I learned to dampen down my own anxiety and fears to do what I needed to do.
In the many Legacy Shorin Ryu schools I made many friends, found valuable training partners, and countless people I admired and respected. Some of my best friendships were forged on the dojo floor or over long car trips to and from training seminars or tournaments. I found great role models who I wanted to emulate not only in my training but in my everyday life. Everyone had something different to teach. From Sensei Baer's fluid power to Shihan Bowron's explosive speed to Shihan Chaki's attention to detail and penetrating techniques. Many training partners came and went until it was my turn to leave.
During the last summer of my undergraduate years, I had the opportunity to live and work in Montreal. My love of karate prompted me to look for a place to train until I went back to school. It was surprisingly difficult to find a school with the same energy as Legacy Shorin Ryu. I found schools that focused on 'real world' combat using chairs and ashtrays as weapons. I found kickboxing/aerobics classes. It wasn't until I stumbled into a Kyokushinkai dojo in Dollard-des-Ormeaux that I found kindred spirits.
The school was owned and run by a semi-professional kick-boxer. However, his classes were traditional. At that point I was a third kyu in Shorin Ryu and was not looking to learn a different style. The owner allowed me to train in his back room after work. I also signed up for a Kenshin Shoden Katori Shinto Ryu weapons class taught by Sensei Dave Purdy. That summer I trained to my hearts content and was introduced to the bokken (wooden sword). I learned the flow and symmetry of two-person katas and fell in love with sword-work. The summer was too short. While I was sad to part ways with more good friends, I took the lessons I'd learned with and from them with me.
Kyukushinkai is one of the more brutal styles I had ever seen. This school at least put a high importance of body conditioning and overcoming weakness. I watched a woman test for a first kyu and fight every black belt in the room including the school owner (and semi-professional fighter). Injuries were common and gi's were ripped. However, there was no doubt that every student felt they earned their rank.
Sensei Dave Purdy taught me about precision and patience. Sword-work requires an exacting attention to detail. Misplace even a toe and the strike will not be delivered with maximum effect. Beyond the nuts and bolts of weapon use, there is a culture associated with Japanese weaponry. How to sit. How to stand. How to bow. Every detail revealing intent and purpose.
I spent nine years training in Hanshi Legacy's schools. After obtaining my black belt, I spent as much time as an assistant teacher as I did training my own material. There were times when I became discouraged by what I felt was a lack of improvement on my part. There were times when I would find who new worlds of training opened up to me.
Through Legacy Shorin Ryu I learned not only Shorin Ryu and Okinawan weaponery, but I also had the opportunity to train with Sensei Nick Suino in Muso Jikiden Eishin Ryu Iaido and with Hanshi Anthony Sandoval in Matsumura Seito Ryu and Hakatsuru (white crane).
There is something inexplicably peaceful about handling a sword. I've had a few opportunities to draw an iaito (dull blade) and cut with a live blade. It takes endless practice and a steady mind to perform weapons katas with effortless grace. Iaido is probably the art that most exposes a person's soul. Nerves, anxiety, fear, unpreparedness, and any other mental or physical deficiency are laid bare for all to see as soon as a swordsman draws.
Training shifted from the physicality of punching and kicking to the subtler arts of joint manipulation and energy flow. Hanshi Sandoval always had an ease about him from his personality to his body movements. There was an effortlessness that I wanted to obtained.
When I finished my degree and set out for a post-doc in Minneapolis, I wasn't sure how or where I would continue my training. Karate had been apart of my life for so long that I couldn't imagine not doing it. So I set out in search of a new dojo.
I found dojos that merely got by with minimal training and effort. I found hard working dojos that lacked the underpinnings of white crane. I found good classical weapons schools that were just too far of a commute for me. I found a wonderful iaido school that was likewise just a little too far out of reach for me. Life became complicated and the excess energy that karate would normally consume built up in unhealthy ways.
Eventually I settled on a Tang Soo Do school, the Karate Junction, a few blocks from my apartment. It was run by an amazing woman who was also a personal trainer, Deb Hall. I wasn't sure that I could settle in a school that wasn't Legacy Shorin Ryu. So I started attending her kickboxing class. Wow, what a workout. I never left the school without being covered in sweat and exhausted. Her physical stamina and ability was an inspiration to me. After a few months, I put on a white belt.
Even though she taught Tang Soo Do it was a different style from the one I started in. I was again a beginner and enjoyed the challenge of learning something new. It was a far cry from Legacy Shorin Ryu but it was something I needed.
The chaos of life, economics, and a move to Maine led me to look for another dojo. I was ecstatic to find out that there were traditional Shorin Ryu clubs in the Ellsworth/Bar Harbor area and emailed a local sensei before I moved. After moving into my apartment I headed up to Bangor for dinner out. On the way I spotted Hamel Dojo and stopped by. This wasn't the sensei I had been corresponding with, but as soon as I saw how his students moved I knew I had found something I had been searching for.
In Sensei Hamel and his black belts I saw traces of Hanshi Sandoval. I had finally found a Shorin Ryu school with a white crane backing. This was the real deal and where I wanted to train. Going from a second degree black belt to a white belt in a style so close to Legacy Shorin Ryu was the hardest thing I have ever done. When I started, I gave myself five years to figure out if this was the right dojo for me.
I had been a white belt many times, in many styles. However, it was indescribably difficult to put away my black belt thinking when it came to Shorin Ryu. I had to empty my cup and learn a slightly different way of doing what I'd spent nine years doing. I had to 'Hai, Sempai' when I felt I knew better or disagreed. And I had to adjust to a dojo that was not as strict or high intensity as I was used to.
All of this was only possible because of Sensei Hamel. His knowledge and experience were by far the most advanced I had seen since I had left Legacy Shorin Ryu. The proficiency of his top black belt students assured me of his skill as a teacher.
After two and a half years of searching, I had finally found a dojo to train in. Again, I made lots of good friends and found valued training partners. I faced struggles and challenges, not the least were internal as I struggled to balance the realities of a dojo with my expectations. Through karate, I was able to rediscovered myself after a difficult personal relationship that took its toll on my self-esteem and self-value.
Nearly five years have elapsed since I walked into the Hamel dojo. I've spent four and a half years training in Matsumura Shorin Ryu Seito Karate and Kobudo to achieve a sho dan. As my training now once again is shifting towards teaching, I find myself less tolerant of dojo idiosyncrasies and norms. The love of karate and training is still there. The enjoyment in teaching is still there. The challenge of perfection remains.
Unfortunately, the frustration of things I cannot change and deficiencies in my training have called into question my desire to keep training in this dojo. Attending karate class has fallen below a priority threshold and that benefits no one, least of all the students I am often tasked with teaching.
So, as of the beginning of the month, I have ceased training. Karate has been such a big part of my life for so long that I still feel like this is only a break and that I will return to it. First I need to find a different mindset. Maybe I need to try something new for a while. Maybe I need to realize that the benefits of training in a dojo are worth the frustrations. Maybe I need to figure out what I want out of my training and the best way to go about accomplishing it.
I still think about karate every day. I wonder how the students are progressing. I hope the best for the dojo and the black belts I trained with. I miss the clarity in motion and the simplicity of a well-performed kata. However, I know that without taking this time off that I will only become more frustrated and bitter. Some day soon I will pick up my weapons or perform a kata for the love of doing and the connection to something larger. Until then I will try to figure out if I can return to the dojo that is the closest I've found to Legacy Shorin Ryu, if I should find another dojo, or if I should move on.
Regardless of my decision the benefits I have gained through karate and the people who have influenced me will forever be apart of who I am and will be reflected in whatever I do.
