Sunday, September 9, 2012 by C. Michial Jones
The year 2012 has been a grueling season for traditional Budo. We have witnessed the loss of an incredible segment of the older generation—men who were the direct links to the founders of our arts. The roster of those who have passed this year is a “who’s who” of Okinawan and Japanese heritage:
- Koshin Iha Sensei (Goju-ryu)
- William Dometrich Sensei (Chitoryu)
- Taika Seiyu Oyata Sensei (Ryukyu Kempo/Ryute)
- Kensei Taba Sensei (Shogenryu)
- Takayoshi Nagamine Soke (Matsubayashiryu)
- Giyu Gibo Sensei (Shorinryu Shorinkan)
- Tatsunori Azuma Sensei (Kobayashiryu)
- Seikichi Gibu Sensei (Shorinryu Butokukan)
- Masayuki Shimabukuro Sensei (Seito Shitoryu/Muso Jikishin Eishinryu)
I feel fortunate to have shared the mat with several of these great men. We are rapidly approaching a threshold where no pre-WWII students—those who learned in the harshest, most authentic environments—will be left. As the founders and their first-generation students pass into history, we face the terrifying possibility that the “old ways” of Karate may cease to exist within the next decade.
The Weariness of the Teacher
As I approach the 19th anniversary of my dojo and my 36th year of daily training, I find myself at a personal crossroads. The challenge hasn’t been the training itself; it has been the exhausting politics of the commercial martial arts world.
I have grown tired of the modern “consumer” attitude—the students who want every rank handed to them and who recoil at the hard work the old ways require. After decades of teaching at my father’s dojo and my own, I recently reached a point where I wanted to stop. I seriously considered closing the Yushikan to everyone except my own personal training and my senior black belts. No more Kyu grades. No more starting from zero with people who may not even stay the year.
The Responsibility of the Survivor
During a two-day visit with a close, long-time friend, I voiced this exhaustion. My friend, a traditionalist who does not yet have his own dojo, listened as I explained my desire to simply “train for myself.”
His response stopped me in my tracks:
“If people like us do not teach—people who have trained with the masters and studied traditional karate—then it will die. If we do nothing, it will die, and we could have stopped it.”
The Decision to Persist
That conversation has weighed heavily on my mind. While the loss of the masters is a tragedy, the true downfall of Budo would be the silence of those they left behind.
If we have been fortunate enough to receive the “true” teachings, we do not own them; we are merely stewards of them. If we quit because we are tired of the modern attitude, we are essentially helping the art die. I have made no final decision yet, but my friend’s point is undeniable. We are the bridge. If we break, the knowledge of those masters goes into the grave with them.
The path forward may be difficult, and the students may be few, but the work of preserving the light of traditional Goju-Ryu must continue.
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