Everybody takes a break.

That includes all of us karate fanatics who eat, live, and breathe this stuff 24/7.

So what happens when the ‘break’ becomes a ‘semi-retirement’?  How can you get back in the dojo?

First, let me assure you…. EVERYBODY TAKES A BREAK!  Don’t feel guilty.  Don’t think your peers, or worse, your sensei is going to be upset that you have come back.  Quite the opposite!  Everybody missed you!  They will be thrilled to have you come back! 

I can tell you that at our dojo, every time someone comes back to train we are all happy.  We don’t put extra pressure on that person to perform, or be in peak physical condition.  It’s just a great feeling to have a familiar face back in the class.  Sure, the stance is off.  Yes, they get tired pretty quick and it looks like they might pass out!  But it still makes us feel good to see you!

So, what is the problem?  

To be honest, it’s you.

You have the issues.  You are the one putting all that pressure on yourself to be exactly where you were when you left.  You are the one that has the high expectations.  You are the one that thinks everyone will be looking at you when you go back to the dojo.  Finally, you are the one that realizes how much hard work it takes to get to your level, and you fear having to put all that work in again.

GET OVER IT!  Trust me; your sensei has seen it all before! 

You know you will feel better when you finish your first class back in groove.  You know that sense of accomplishment will come back.  You know the ‘family’ at the dojo will accept you back.

What are you waiting for?

Does your dojo get along with others, and play nice in the sand box?

I never thought we were allowed to!  I was brought up in a time when it was cool to be stand alone.  Our dojo was the best of the best.  Why would we talk to anyone else?  They were beneath us.  We might be polite at a tournament, but that was about it.  Their kata?  Awful.  Sparring?  Brutal. 

Even when there were multiple dojo’s with the same root, we never acknowledged the other guys.  They were breakaway, not recognized, ostracized.

What a stupid way to live.  I had my eyes opened in Japan when an old friend of ours took us out for a night on the town.  Another fellow came along, and I had never met him before.  He was obviously a karate guy, but why had I never met him?  Then we were introduced.  He was from Gojo Ryu, an entirely different style!  Yet our friend got along great with him.  They were old friends and allowed their love of Karate to be a building block between them, rather than a wall!

Then I had a chance to live and train at an Aikido dojo for a few years in Regina, Canada.  That Sensei had friends in different disciplines from around the world!  He was friends with Aikido, Karate, Judo, Kendo and Jiujitsu. 

I had my eyes opened.  I now realize that there is no ONE WAY to anything.  I try to teach my group that reaching out across styles only increases your own skills and awareness.  Sure, we have our own bias and certainly we are not perfect, but why be closed off to others?

I think it speak volumes about a dojo’s leadership when they can’t work with others.  Why the secrecy?  Why the stand alone attitude?  Don’t be fooled:  I mean really work with others.  Open up dialogue, train and teach across disciplines, invite others and allow yourself to be invited. 

So again, does your dojo play nice in the sand box? 

Why not?

Why should you practise kata??

Because we told you to!

A Trip to 7-11

One of the best experiences when traveling anywhere is to make the effort to live like the locals.  Why go somewhere and expect everything to be like home?  What’s the point? 

Japan is no exception, and these attempts to blend in make for some great stories!!  The weird part about Japan is how so much can be so similar to what you have at home, sometimes it isn’t that different or difficult to really blend in.

My first trip to Japan was in 1984.  There were six of us Canadians that time, and we stayed in a rented house off the beaten track in a district of Tokyo called Nishi-Ogikubo.  Most of the team went home after a month in Japan while Glen Smith and I stayed on for another two weeks of training.  It was the first time either of us had been on our own, and we had to figure out a way to buy food, clean the house, and do the laundry.  A daunting task for us both!

One night Glen realized we were out of milk for tomorrow’s breakfast of cereal.  No problem.  By this time we were regulars at the local corner store, and we headed out into the dark.  We could speak about 37 Japanese words between us; what could go wrong?

The store was run by an old lady, and was very typical of those family run businesses in Tokyo:  storefront on the main level and sleeping quarters either upstairs or in the back.  Nothing special, but a far cry from the 7-11’s or Mac’s we were used to back home. The store lights were dimmed, but the door was open on this hot summer night, so we wandered in.  Glen headed to the coolers to pick up a litre of milk, while I had a look for the Meiji chocolate almonds that are so good.

It was then that I noticed that we were absolutely alone and there were scattered coins beside the cash register.

Had we stumbled in on a robbery?  Was the old lady bound and gagged somewhere?  Was the criminal lurking behind the shelves of dried shrimp crackers, waiting to pounce?  Would I not be able to finish my chocolate almonds?

We called out into the dark….. “Hello, anyone here?”  Silence.  “Maybe we should try it in Japanese?” 

“Call again, this time louder.” 

“ Sumimasen?” Nothing.

“Once more, then we get the hell out of here.”

“Of course we should take the milk!”

Then she appears out from the back!  Would she be thrilled to be saved by the two handsome strangers?

Nope.  

She is four foot eleven inches of angry old lady.  Disheveled and obviously rudely awoken by the two idiot foreigners.  She makes us fully aware that the money is laid out for customers to come in, pick up their items, make their own change, AND GO HOME QUIETLY.

Not like 7-11 at all.