Reflection on Minei Dojo Visit to Brisbane
Bit of a long write-up, but a few days off work have given the brain juices time to ferment. Whether that’s produced wisdom or just a more elaborate form of bs remains to be seen.
As some of you may have gathered from our social media posts, the Okinawans have now come and gone. There was plenty of training, learning, and of course plenty of good times. But as is usually the case when we get together, I reckon the biggest lessons had bugger-all to do with karate itself.
Whenever the lot of us get together and train, there’s a certain familiarity. We know each other’s strengths, weaknesses, limitations, abilities, and various psychological defects. Some of us are coordinated, some of us move like a shopping trolley with a dodgy wheel, and some of us are still trying to work out which way we're supposed to turn.
There’s no need to prove anything. Nobody expects a fat bastard to suddenly move like a ballerina. Nobody needs to tell the naturally gifted blokes that they’re good at something they’ve already demonstrated a thousand times. And nobody needs to pretend that everyone is equally good at everything just to protect a few fragile egos. We know where everyone stands. More importantly, we’re comfortable enough with each other to admit it. That doesn’t mean we stop improving….. quite the opposite. It means we can spend less time trying to impress each other and more time refining what we already have. A little adjustment here, a small correction there...
Sometimes, the difference between doing something reasonably well and actually understanding it comes down to a millimetre. At some point, training becomes less about collecting new techniques like Pokémon cards and more about understanding the shit you’ve already been practising for years.
Suplise
One thing that genuinely surprised me had nothing to do with karate. Our Okinawan guests were amazed with how well we had organised their visit. Sent them a draft schedule to put their minds at ease…To this day, I still believe they think the 3 of us have no serious side. Anyway, we had a Plan A, a kinda Plan B, and even a wishy-washy Plan C. We’d thought about different possibilities, potential problems, weather, transport, food, timing, and all the other little things that can turn a perfectly good plan into a disaster.
To me, this was just common sense. If you organise something, you plan for things to go wrong as people get tired, weather can turn nasty, and new portals could open. That's life. But apparently, having a properly thought-out schedule impressed our guests for them to bring it up on several occasions. For someone with enough OCD, ADHD, and whatever other three-letter acronym you can think of, this is just how my brain ticks. I can overthink a simple outing until it requires a project manager or a risk assessment. Still, it was nice to know the effort was appreciated.
It reminded me that sometimes, the things we consider ordinary are the things other people notice. Planning, preparation, consideration, and making sure people are looked after might not look like karate, but they're part of the same mindset.
Same Sh*t
As someone who runs my own little dojo, another part of the visit was particularly satisfying. I heard my sensei explaining and correcting the same things I regularly try to teach my own students. I'm not suggesting I've suddenly reached enlightenment or about to start handing myself grandmaster bend-over certificates. But it was reassuring to hear those same principles reinforced by someone further along the path. As instructors, we repeat ourselves constantly. We explain, demonstrate, correct, and explain again. Sometimes we demonstrate something so many times that we start questioning whether the students are deaf, blind, or simply waiting for the class to finish so they can go on a Sundee picnic.
Then another instructor comes along and says exactly the same thing. Suddenly, everyone pays attention. Ohhhhhh! So THAT'S what sensei meant! Yeah, matey. That's what I've been saying for the last 5 years, you magnificent wombat.
Of course, having senior Okinawan instructors explain the same principle carries a different kind of weight. Perhaps the students hear it differently even if majority of them don’t understand a lick of Japanese. Perhaps they understand it better, or maybe they simply realise their own instructor wasn't making things up after all.
And let's be brutally honest, having several balding Okinawan dudes deliver the message probably adds a little extra traditional mysticism compared with hearing it from some bogan (or Chogan) Aussie who looks like he should be fixing a lawnmower out the back. Whatever works ay! If hearing it from my sensei reinforces what we're already trying to develop in our dojo, then that's a win which I'll happily take.
Pedestal-less
In karate, often is the case where people put a sensei, grandmasters, or anyone that looks Japanese on a pedestal. Respect is important, and experience matters. We should appreciate the people who teach us and the effort they've put into passing on their knowledge and lah di dahh.
But respect and worship are not the same thing. Somewhere along the line, karate-ka around the globe seem to have confused having a black belt with being the second coming of Jesus Christ. Add a Japanese or Okinawan title, a few fancy kanji characters, and a photograph of yourself looking mysterious with your arms crossed, and apparently, you're now beyond criticism.
Our teachers are human. They have strengths and weaknesses, good days and bad ones. They forget things, get things wrong, and sometimes don’t know the answers. Heck, they’re even humble enough to go back to Okinawa and ask questions to fellow sensei that they couldn’t answer themselves. Imagine that… a master who doesn’t have all the answers.
Being highly ranked doesn't automatically make someone a better person, a better teacher, or even a better karateka. It certainly doesn't grant immunity from being a dickhead. One thing I reckon our Okinawan guests have come to understand about the Australian members is that we don't take ourselves too seriously. We can respect our teachers without treating them like gods. We can appreciate tradition without pretending that everything done in the name of tradition is sacred. And we can train seriously without behaving as though we are at a Big Ossssu Festival. Hopefully, our students could see that there’s no need to lick the boots of someone higher up. We're all human. Some of us just seem to need more reminding than others.
Style vs Substance
Every day, watching my guys perform their kata in front of my sensei, I couldn’t help but feel a little proud of what I’d passed on. The principles, the movements… fuck me, it was there...most of it anyway. No flailing arms, no interpretive dance, no looking like a bunch of drunks fighting dwarfs.
You can be athletically gifted, coordinated, fast, and technically impressive, yet still miss what Okinawan Goju-Ryu is trying to achieve. On the other hand, you can be uncoordinated as, struggle with certain movements, yet still be developing something meaningful in karate. Looking good and knowing what you’re doing are two different things. One person can perform a technique like an Olympic kata champ and miss the point entirely, while another moves like a constipated ape but understands the purpose.
That's what fascinates me about the Goju-Ryu we're trying to practise. It's not simply about making everyone move the same way or turning every student into an athletic machine. It's about helping people understand what they're doing and develop it within their own abilities. Sometimes, the person who looks the least impressive is the one making the most meaningful progress.
Behind The Scenes
Of course, the visit wasn't all philosophical enlightenment and karate chops - probably more meat chops..... So much so that by the end of day 3 some of us were craving veges and rice haha….and of course there was a lot chatting, laughing, and a whole heap of nonsense. But if you ask me what makes our group special, I don't think the answer lies solely in what happens on the training floor.
It's everything that happens around it. Students helping and hosting lunches and dinners. People and their partners giving up their time to look after our guests. Someone offering to take them sailing one day, while another takes them on a bushwalk another. Others organising things behind the scenes, making sure everyone has what they need. All the little things that nobody has to do but do anyway. The synergy was definitely there!
You can have the biggest and baddest facilities, the most impressive techniques, and a grandmaster with a belt with more stripes than a zebra. But if nobody gives a shit about anyone else, what exactly have you built?
Beyond Being Students
One thing I never expected when I started teaching was how much I'd come to appreciate the people who train with me. Initially, you teach these randoms karate. You show them techniques, correct their mistakes, try to keep them from injuring themselves, and occasionally wonder why they keep doing the exact opposite of what you've just demonstrated.
But over time, something changes. You start seeing the person behind the uniform. You learn about their families, their jobs, their struggles, personalities, and all that kinda shit. You watch them improve, not just in karate, but sometimes in confidence, patience, and how they interact with others.
And then one day, those same people are helping you look after your guests, preparing meals, offering lifts, organising activities, and making sure everyone feels welcome. Nobody needs to be told. Nobody needs to be bribed with a new belt or threatened with fifty push-ups. You suddenly realise that the relationship has grown beyond instructor and student.
I never thought I'd reach a point where I could feel a genuine gratitude and respect for my students, in a way that feels as meaningful as what I feel for my own family. But here we are. And that, more than any technique or correction, is something I never take for granted. To everyone who helped organise, cook, drive, entertain, train, clean up, or simply make our Okinawan guests feel welcome: cheers c!
On that note, (apologies.. I just can't resist) but I’m gonna end it here with a big fat osssssssssssu....
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