The Thirst for Knowledge: Leading the Horse to Water

Tuesday, May 3, 2011 by C. Michial Jones

There is an old expression: “You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.” In the context of a traditional dojo, this proverb takes on a frustratingly literal meaning.

Why is it that a student will seek out an instructor, ostensibly to learn an art, and then refuse to listen to the corrections provided?

The Duty of the Student

I occasionally visit other dojos to train, and inevitably, I am asked to assist in correcting students’ kata or techniques. I take great care in this. I explain the correction, demonstrate the “why” behind it, and ensure the student practices the movement until they have it. Yet, upon my return months later, I often see the same students making the same mistakes.

When I was a student at the Komakai Honbu and its various branches, my mindset was different. If a Sempai or Sensei took the time to correct me, I considered it a debt. I would go home and practice that specific correction hundreds of times so that the next time that senior saw me, I didn’t waste their time with the same error. I wanted them to have one less thing to fix. To do otherwise is a breach of dojo etiquette; it is a sign of disrespect toward the teacher’s time.

The “Instant Gratification” Trap

We live in an era where people expect karate to be handed to them on a silver platter. The modern world is built on convenience, but the Budo path is built on hardship.

I remember my father’s first dojo. He would line us up against a brick wall and tell us to punch at it 500 times. After we had bloodied our knuckles against the brick, he would stop us and say, “No one told you to hit it—I said punch AT it!” It was a lesson in focus, listening, and physical grit. We kicked trees. We ran in the snow. We did thousands of push-ups. We trained as close to the “Old Ways” as we could.

Today, many students are more interested in the “glitter” of the art than the “gold.” They want:

• The next colored belt every three months.
• The shiny trophy from a weekend tournament.
• The ego-boost of being called a “champion.”

Tournament karate has its place—I started competing in 1978 and won my share of state, national, and world titles. It was a blast, and I met great people. But I always knew that tournament karate wasn’t real karate. It was a sport for fun, not a system for life preservation. Unfortunately, many modern “champions” believe they are beyond correction. Their ego tells them that because they have a trophy, they have reached the end of the path.

The Yushikan Path: Returning to the Source

Years ago, I decided I would no longer cater to the masses. I realized that to preserve the art, I had to stop the dilution. I made the following changes to my teaching philosophy:

1. Simplifying the Rank: I did away with the “rainbow” of fancy colored belts and returned to the traditional White, Green, Brown, and Black.
2. Invite Only: You cannot simply walk into my dojo and sign a contract. You must be invited. I only accept those who truly want to learn.
3. The True Currency: I do not charge my students a monthly fee in money. Instead, they pay me in sweat and hard work.

If a student is not willing to “drink the water” once they have been led to it, they have no place in a traditional dojo. The path of Goju-Ryu is long and steep. If you aren’t willing to work hard and listen, you aren’t just wasting my time—you are losing sight of the path itself.