Monday, December 12, 2011 by C. Michial Jones
The term Shodan (初段) is commonly translated in the West as “first-degree black belt,” but this translation is fundamentally misleading. Sho literally means “beginning,” “initial,” or “first.” Shodan, therefore, is the First Level. It implies that the student has finally finished the introductory phase and is now officially ready to begin learning the Art.
To the traditional Okinawan or Japanese Sensei, a Shodan has simply mastered the ability to stand, move, and breathe without constant correction. Yet, in modern society, people receive their black belts and immediately think they are qualified to teach, to open a dojo, or to offer grand commentaries on Budo. They treat the belt as if it were the Holy Grail, when in reality, it is merely the entrance exam.
The Right to an Opinion
My father has a saying he has repeated to his students hundreds of times:
“You have no opinion about anything until you reach Shodan, and then you only have an opinion about the kyu grades.”
I once heard him tell another Yudansha (Dan grade holder) that only after twenty-five years of training would he consider listening to that man’s opinion. To an outsider, this sounds like ego. To a practitioner, it is the truth of the “Dojo Floor.” Until you have spent decades in austere training—sweating, bleeding, and repeating the basics—you haven’t earned the perspective required to judge the art.
Knowing vs. Knowing Of
When I was in the eighth grade, I lived in Phoenix and had the opportunity to train under masters like Robert Trias, Jiro Shiroma, and Al Sadler. During a summer visit to my father’s dojo, he asked me how my training was going. I told him I was working hard. He asked, “Do you know Seiunchin?”
Seiunchin was my favorite kata; I practiced it every day. I confidently replied, “Yes, I know it.”
His response stayed with me for life: “Really? Because I have been practicing it longer than you, and I still don’t ‘know’ it. I know of it, but I don’t know it.”
It took years for the weight of that statement to sink in. I have been performing Gekisai Dai Ichi and Sanchin for nearly thirty-five years. Each time I step onto the mat, I find a new layer, a hidden application, or a subtle nuance in the breath that I had missed for three decades. You don’t “learn” a kata like you learn a poem; you peel it like an onion, and the layers never end.
The Danger of the Hurry
Today, we see dojos run by people who have only trained for a few years. The average student now expects a black belt in twenty-four to thirty-six months, after which they often rush to open their own school.
The timeline of my lineage is different:
- My Father: Trained for 10 years before he was permitted to open a branch dojo.
- Myself: Trained for 17 years before I opened my first dojo.
People are in too much of a hurry to reach what they consider “the end.” But in Budo, if you rush to the end, you find nothing but an empty room.
A Harsh Truth for the Yudansha
This may sound harsh, but Shodans need to keep their mouths shut and train. At the rank of first-degree, you haven’t even been shown the “substance” of the system yet, let alone do you have the authority to offer opinions on the direction of the art.
Martial arts is a lifelong endeavor. Pace yourself. Enjoy the view. Real knowledge takes years to manifest, and even then, it is fleeting. I have been at this on a daily basis for nearly thirty-five years, and I still don’t “know” anything. I know of many things, but I am still searching for the “knowing.”
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