Looking at the Long Run…

While the general public might see someone with a black belt as a “master of karate” who knows everything there is to know, those of us who train understand that this is far from the truth.

But it was during my most recent trip to train at the Jundokan, and through conversations with Gima-sensei and Kinjo-sensei, that I realised just how different this perspective can be even between Western and Okinawan practitioners.

Throughout my own training experiences, I have always been led to believe, and witnessed in numerous contexts, that instructors teach their kyu-grades little by little to ensure they take things one step at a time. Beginning with basics and stances, moving on basic kata patterns, refining those patterns so they can dissect and understand basic bunkai, and eventually, with enough understanding, moving on to develop one’s own, more practical oyo-bunkai.

This approach, of course, makes sense and is undoubtedly practiced in Okinawa as well. However, the key difference I’ve recently noticed is what happens after one earns their black belt…

Perhaps influenced by Hollywood portrayals or the common misconception of black belts as masters of karate, it seems that many black belt holders in the West are seen as ‘eligible’ (for lack of a better term) to learn without the constraints they faced as kyu-grades. In other words, there’s a sudden ‘no holds barred’ approach where black belts gain access to knowledge in a far less controlled manner than when they were coming up through the lower grades.

Of course, this might not apply to everyone, but based on my own encounters and experiences, earning a black belt often serves as a ticket to a more unrestricted learning experience in the West.

Personally, I believe this perspective arises from the recognition of how far a person has progressed in their training, serving as a reward for their efforts. Achieving a 2nd or 3rd dan is seen as a testament to one’s dedication and a validation of their understanding of the art. Many in the West view this accomplishment as earning the right to learn more freely, in contrast to the more structured approach typically applied when teaching kyu-grades.

However, recent conversations with some of the Jundokan masters have revealed to me a stark difference in how things are approached in Okinawa.

I remember Gima-sensei telling me some time ago that training in the old days was rooted in learning from your senpai. Ni-dans would teach the sho-dans, san-dans would teach the ni-dans, yon-dans would teach the san-dans, and so on. This was the first major difference I noticed between Western and Okinawan training styles; and while this tradition may not be as prevalent today, the mentality surrounding grades in this sense remains strong.

More recently, I’ve come to understand that (at least in the Jundokan) there is a significant distinction between sho-dans, ni-dans, san-dans, and yon-dans. While in the West, holders of these ranks might be seen as equally eligible to learn the same material, this is not the case in Okinawa. Through multiple conversations with the Jundokan masters, it has been strongly implied that sho-dans, ni-dans, and even san-dans are still relatively early in their training and may not yet be ready—or able to fully grasp—certain techniques or applications. This has led me to believe that the Okinawans perceive a clear difference between sho-, ni-, and san-dans as being at one level of understanding and ability, and those above as being at another, more advanced level.

I personally believe this perspective arises not so much from acknowledging how far one has progressed in their karate, as is often the case in the West, but rather from considering how much further they have yet to go. With decades of their own training and having learned from masters like Miyazato Ei’ichi-sensei and Iha Koshin-sensei—both of whom possessed extensive knowledge passed down from Miyagi Chojun-sensei—a sho-dan, ni-dan, or san-dan is still in the early stages of their journey in the eyes of today’s masters, Gima-sensei and Kinjo-sensei.

In summary, what I’ve gathered—whether accurate or not—is that the Okinawan perspective emphasizes not how far you’ve come in your training, but how much further you have yet to go. This outlook, acknowledging that there will always be more to learn no matter how much we progress, embodies a humility that can profoundly influence our approach to training.

What I love most about this perspective is that it encourages continuous growth and reminds us that mastery is a lifelong journey, not a destination. By embracing this mindset, we stay open to new lessons and remain dedicated to refining our practice, both inside the dojo and beyond.

Blake Turnbull © 2024

Disclaimer: The ideas expressed here are my personal interpretations based on conversations and experiences. They may not fully or accurately reflect the views or experiences of individuals in either the West or Okinawa.