But that doesn’t mean every emotion should be ignored, either.

Sometimes we’re getting angry at empty boats. Sometimes there’s a genuine reason to be concerned.

Perhaps the difficult part is learning to tell the difference.

It’s relatively easy to demonstrate an unbalancing technique against someone who cooperates.

But what happens when they resist, recover their balance, or continue attacking?

Kuzushi is more than a technique associated with a particular kata. It’s a principle worth investigating throughout our training.

I’ve noticed that some instructors regularly refer to the people who taught them, particularly when explaining why they do something a certain way.

There’s nothing wrong with respecting our teachers. I certainly do. But there’s a difference between explaining where we learned something and explaining why we do it.

I don’t believe that finding our own way means leaving those teachers behind. Sometimes it’s their encouragement that gives us the confidence to explore in the first place.

Particularly when it comes from someone with an established grade, reputation, or lineage.

One of the things I’ve come to appreciate over the years is that a good question can sometimes teach us more than a confident answer.

I’ve encountered instructors who welcomed questions and others who seemed uncomfortable with them. Both experiences taught me something.

Respecting our teachers shouldn’t mean that their explanations are beyond question.

Sometimes an old memory from training makes you reconsider something you’ve been doing for decades.

I’ve been thinking about the stepping punch recently, not so much how we perform it, but what we might actually be learning from it.

No grand historical claims, just looking at something familiar from a different perspective.

But over the years, I’ve seen how easily things can change, sometimes for reasons we might not expect.

A few personal experiences led me to think more carefully about what we mean by “traditional.”

During a throw, the body can pass through a perfectly recognizable karate stance, even though the person performing it never set out to adopt one.

It’s an observation that raises some interesting questions about the way we teach and interpret karate movements.

A student can spend years learning to withdraw their hand to exactly the right position in kihon and kata.

But being able to perform a movement correctly doesn’t necessarily mean understanding how to use it.

Two people can be working against considerable resistance, yet both still know exactly what’s coming.

They’re working hard, but are they really dealing with uncertainty?

There’s a difference worth thinking about when we consider how we train.

It’s interesting how the same questions about kata keep appearing, even after so many years of discussion.

Sometimes I wonder whether the problem isn’t with the answers we’re giving, but with the questions themselves.

Perhaps it’s time we looked at the question a little differently.