Many of my blog posts about the martial arts are pretty generic. I got beat up today. I like arm bars. Kids in gis are cute. But every so often I write something that rubs someone the wrong way. ( My promotion post was one. And yesterday's was another. If you have not read it yet feel free to scroll down.) I should not have to say this but I will. I love both my karate dojo and my jiu jitsu school. I have nothing but respect for my teachers, both past and present, and for all of my training partners. If you were ever offended by anything I said, I apologize, that was truly never my intention.
The thing is I am not just a martial artist, I am also a teacher. I run a dojo. Sometimes when I ask questions it is from the point of view of a lost, confused student. But other times, when I am questioning the best way to do things it is because it is my job to do so. I am not attacking anyone else's teaching methods, I am just trying to improve my own.
I know these discussions make some of you uncomfortable because traditionally we don't talk about these things. But we should. Martial arts is not magic and it is not religion. (And by the way we should be able to debate that too!) While tradition is very important so is conversation and innovation. It is how we grow as martial artists and as people .
So please dont take offense. I love you all no matter where you train or how. I don't ever claim to know the best way. I am just trying to find the best way for me.
I am going to tell you a secret. The name of your school does not matter. The patch you wear on your uniform does not matter. The belt you tie around your waist, the color of your gi, the medals on your wall, none of these things matter. All that matters is the sweat on the floor. Period. I am not saying that you should not be proud of those things. You earned them and they deserve to be celebrated. I am not saying that all dojos are the same. They aren't. But none of that matters. What matters is that you did one more pushup that night. When you thought you were done, you did one more. What matters is that you kept fighting, even though he had you pushed up against the wall and for a moment there you were pretty sure he forgot who you were. He certainly forgot how small you were, yet you kept fighting, or at least you kept your hands up and waited for the bell to ring. You didn't quit. What matters is that you went to class. When you would really ra...
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