Hibiscus Flowers - Karate & Okinawa Connections

A few days ago, our hibiscus plants were just about to bloom. The buds were starting to open, so the picture-snapping began. By afternoon, they were in full morning-glory mode; big, bright, and beautiful. More snapping than an Asian tourist continued and then within a day, they were all kaputskis and shrivelled like a shiitake in a cold bath.

Their entire life as a bloom lasted barely forty-eight hours. Yet during that short time, they brought me quiet joy and happiness. Every flower reminded me of Okinawa - ‘the warm, gentle breezes’ (haaaay Craig), the sunlit gardens, and walking down side streets where hibiscus can be seen everywhere.

There’s something deeply Okinawan in the way the hibiscus blooms. It doesn’t try to last forever. It simply opens, gives everything, and fades when its time is done. No hesitation, No BS, just pure expression at its finest.

In karate, hopefully we all strive for that same honesty. Each kata, each movement, like a hibiscus bloom; full of intent and presence. You train for years, but in the moment of performance, standing in front of your sensei or a grading panel, it only exists for that instant and then it’s gone. Even a fleeting moment can be more meaningful than a lifetime of hollow insignificant training which many karateka seem to experience.

Back to my hibiscus. Around that pink beauty, a bunch of little weeds stand, the random greens that pop up and never seem to die. They spread at the pace of karate experts posting on social media ie. relentless, and impossible to ignore. They don’t stir my heart.... or my bowels. Some people and their karate grow like weeds: tough and persistent sure, but utterly devoid of substance. Others bloom like hibiscus brief maybe, but radiant and full of spirit.

So when I see my newly blooming hibiscus each time, I think of Okinawa. The beauty like karate isn’t about how long it lasts, but how deeply it’s lived.

Next to the dojo these beauties stand!

2022 Okinawa Trip - When borders were closed, and tourists weren't blocking my flower views.