A karate guy passed away today......

Today I found out that a karate guy I once met passed away. I didn’t know him well, not mates, not even long-time acquaintances. I went to one seminar yearrrrrs ago where he also partook, then ended up at the same dinner table with him afterward. That’s it. That was the extent of our shared life experience. And yet, I found out he died. Wow…so did a carrier pigeon arrive at my window? A phone call? A sms? Nah. My brudda Greig sent me a message after being hit by an avalanche of “Rest In Peace” posts that seems to hit every time someone remotely known in the community passes on.

This is the new ritual: someone dies, and the internet throws a digital wake that lasts longer than the actual funeral. Photos, stories, old blurry videos from the ’90s all unearthed and shared. Condolences flood in from everyone. Friends, students, students of students, that one guy who once saw him on a YouTube clip and now feels spiritually bonded. People crawling out of the online woodwork to say, “I didn’t know him personally, but he seemed like a top bloke.” Yeah cheers for that, mate. Very touching.

And believe me, I’m not trying to be disrespectful, far from it. I get that grief looks different for everyone. But sometimes it feels like the louder the post, the more it’s about the poster. It’s the social media Olympics of who cared the most… even if they didn’t.

It’s weird to think that without social media, we probably wouldn’t know who’s had a kid, gotten married, divorced, or died. We’ve outsourced human connection to the almighty online algorithms. Birthdays? Facebook reminder. New baby? Instagram story with a baby filter. Engagement? Do some cringe proposal or dance on TikTok. And Death? Share your old photo + thoughtful caption + 37 hashtags.

As for me, I’ve always been a rather private person. I doubt even some of my close mates knows when my birthday is, and that’s by design. I don't need and don’t want birthday messages from my cousin’s ex-boyfriend’s pest control guy who added me as a friend in 2005. And when I eventually cark it and enter a different portal (Don’t you just love that word Gregory?), I don’t want a packed funeral full of strangers trying to remember how they know me. Same goes for karate. Why is there this obsession with posting every achievement, every training session, every dojo selfie? I train for me. My karate journey is not a content stream for others. Recognition, digital or otherwise not required thanks.

So back to the karate gentleman who passed? He’s getting a tsunami of attention. Praise, admiration, stories that have clearly been sitting in someone’s mental drafts folder for years. And maybe he would’ve liked that, maybe he was the kind of guy who embraced the spotlight, who found joy in being celebrated. And that’s absolutely fine, genuinely! But there are also the hidden karate people out there, the ones who’d rather not have the spotlight. The ones like me, who’d prefer to go out quietly. No fanfare, no hashtags, no “Gone but never forgotten” posts accompanied by a selfie of you looking sad but heavily filtered - Get that shite outta here! When the day comes, just let me fade out ninja-style. Leave me alone and let me vanish into the winds forever.

Some people live loudly, some quietly. Some would want a full marching band at their funeral - I just want to decompose in peace. Preferably as compost, feeding a tree that also minds its own effen business.

Low-key obscurity: the ultimate belt I’m chasing..... in life, death, and the dojo. But hey, each to their own.

My mother's best friend's great grandmother's next door neighbour's landlord seemed like a good man. You shall be missed! R.I.P.