Last night I had a few old workmates over for dinner and met their partners for the first time. One of them asked me about karate – obviously I couldn’t hide my dojo (which was the view from where we were drinking) and pretend I didn’t do it, but at the same time I just had no desire to even want to talk about it, hence, the motivation for this blog post (not sure if there is much relevance but anyway….)
The first 10 years
Telling people I do karate is one thing I have never done. In fact, it has always been something I have kept as a big secret, unlike other hobbies and activities which I was always keen and open about discussing. When I first started as a 10-year-old Jean Claude Van Damme wannabe, the main reason I never entered tournaments for the first few years was because (and I don’t want to sound too cocky here), I knew I would win them – both kumite and kata. Not that winning was a bad thing, but because it meant you would have had to receive your trophy or medal in front of everyone and to add to my stress as a youngster, get your photo taken for the local newspaper, something which I simply dreaded, death would have been the more desirable option for me. I hated being the centre of attention so much that I even lied every year to friends about when my birthday was. Can you imagine parents having to listen to their 5 year old kid beg to them about not wanting to have a birthday party, or not wanting any presents?? Well that was me - the shy kid. Maybe it was my shyness level being off the charts, or maybe I just didn’t think letting people know I did karate was anyone’s business. And yes, I did finally participate in tournaments, and yes my mug also appeared in the newspaper, and another big yes for it was as bad as I thought it would be (a story for next time).
The next 10 years
As I slowly grew out of being so shy, conversations about karate and other martial arts with others who practised something began. Debating over what style, kata or form was cooler, stronger, and having conversations about those which we thought simply sucked. Always had the time for a good yarn not to mention having even more time for full-on fighting sessions on the spot for those that were ever keen to. I still remember kicking one kung fu guy in the guts so hard the sounds of him grasping for air made me think I was on my way to prison – fortunately he survived and 20+ years on, is now a current student of ours – Good work Phil 😊 ahhh the sadistic joys of belting each other up back then.
And the 10 years after that…
Over the years whenever I have met people who I know do karate regardless of style, and how bright and fancy their gi colours maybe, I’m always up for a little chat or should I say, practise my listening skills. Must admit, there were times when what others were doing and saying, and even their way of thinking being polar opposites to ours really got under my skin. Though I don’t always agree with the opinions of others, it’s always fascinating and at times mind-boggling to hear what actually exists out there. Having said that, this world would be a rather dull place if multi-coloured belts didn’t exist right?
The present
These days, I find myself when asked if I do karate – I try to respond with a No (conversation ended). My choice in avoiding talking to others about karate, be it people who I have met for the first time like last night, karate ‘experts’ with decades of experience, and even family and friends is by no means out of ignorance or a superiority complex. The need or want to talk, explain, introduce, justify, clarify, or debate is simply not there anymore. This is not to say I don’t want to discuss karate related things, I love reaching out to others out there who I feel are on a similar wavelength as us irrespective of rank or ryu-ha (style), but the necessity to carry out the above-mentioned – nah I’m over it.
I remember one night in Okinawa after training when we went out for dinner with Gaja Sensei (Our kobudo teacher) and an Uechi Ryu mate also based in QLD, Australia, we were approached by a local drunk in the restaurant. He asked my sensei if he did karate and the response was a short and swift NO. Not sure if it was due to similar reasons as mine, or the fact he didn’t want to talk to a drunk, but it was a memory which firmly stands out and one I am rather fond of. Gaja Sensei too kept his training a secret from people (including family, doctors and nurses) for as long as he could, reasons I’m not too certain of but nice to share a similarity.
As I’m spending more time in the dojo these days trying to discover things for myself, the more I appreciate the tools our sensei have provided us in doing so. Times of being disgruntled at others for whatever reasons have long gone.
Is this what a standard timeline of a karatekas life usually looks like? Wonder what our next 10 years will entail?
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