“I’ll just use my weight.”
That was the answer I got from a student who was regularly running out of breath during training.
Size certainly matters. So does strength.
But what happens when the first thing you try doesn’t work?
We spend a lot of time arguing about what karate is. Perhaps the problem is that we’re no longer talking about the same thing.
Sometimes another martial art doesn’t show us something new. It simply helps us recognize something we had stopped seeing.
Context is the technique. The same movement that’s brilliant in one situation is a great way to get hurt in another.
A black belt only has meaning if everyone agrees on what it represents. I’m no longer convinced we do.
Perhaps the hand position is not always the technique.
Sometimes it may simply be the shape the hand makes while gripping, pressing, clearing, or controlling.
An unrehearsed attack is not necessarily an unexpected one.
When both people know that something is about to happen, the warning has already been given.
The dojo feels different before anyone else is there.
No explanations, no questions and no need to think about what comes next. Just a little time to practice and pay attention.
Sometimes that is where my own training begins.
The fence is simple in appearance, but its value has never been simply where the hands are placed.
It is what those hands allow us to manage before the situation becomes physical.
We are often told to watch the eyes, shoulders, chest, hands, or feet.
But concentrating on one part of a person may cause us to miss what is changing elsewhere.
Perhaps the question is not simply where we should look, but how much we are able to perceive.
